MISUNDERSTOOD

Sometimes the way I walk and a way I talk is noticed,

My words out loud are not always poetry spoken.

A look upon my face is perhaps seen as an angry glare,

To be safe is not always a smile shown, a distance kept.

Trust a little, just enough so that I am not fooled or taken,

Misunderstood I know I am, a judgment without knowledge.

Misunderstood as an appearance does not tell of who I am,

An impression to be observed, not always a story known.

Keith Garrett

MAGIC BUBBLES

There was a time when you were a child, remember when,

Children playing simple games back in a world of wishes and magic.

A bottle, do you recall that magic bottle from where bubbles appeared,

Close your eyes and blow through that circle of dreams, watch their form.

Bubbles, see the colors inside, small and big are they as you see them float,

Away they go to somewhere, disappearing with the wind, vanished bubbles.

As a child, it is and was such a creative, wonderful, experience of magic,

Did you believe, try to see that each one had a different gift to be held.

Blowing in the wind were dreams, wishes, possible things, everything,

Magic bubbles, once upon a time in a child’s dreaming eyes.

Keith Garret.

MAN OF THE WOODS

Born quite a distance from civilized land, this man was,

In this place, these surroundings of still and quiet, lives he.

Immense sort of a man, bearded with scraggly hair,

Hunts for that which he eats, gun or knife in hand has he.

In weather hostile or friendly he makes his way, survives,

Cabin built of wood is where this loner dwells in silence.

Content to be in this place without another soul for company,

Whittling wood or the harmonica played is a passion of a man alone.

Fish that have been caught in a stream nearby, fried up for dinner,

Eaten next to a fire that takes the chill from the night as he thinks.

On the porch settles this soul who exists in solitude enjoying the night,

Not so complete without the puff of smoke from his tobacco filled pipe.

As he speaks good night to all around, all that lives, he’s off to slumber,

Whom he is matters not, man of the woods, farewell.

Keith Garrett

LIGHT IN THE WINDOW

Each night as the sun goes down, darkness visits a sleepy town,

A usual stroll through the streets brings peace before dreams.

What’s noticed from a man’s eyes within the blackness is a window,

A dark building shows off the faint light that glows from behind a shade.

As I pass by every night along my route of walking I wonder about the light,

Who might be there beyond the walls surrounding this one and only window?

Always seems so quiet, could there be laughter or singing on the other side?

Someone quietly reading a book, dreaming of what’s out there in the world,

Beyond their window, do they wonder of things that are a mystery to them?

Is there a possible sadness that wanders around inside, who might hide?

A name must be attached to a soul with a life, only a light in the window is seen.

Keith Garrett

JUST LISTEN!

On the shore, sounds of the ocean are heard,

You can hear crashing of the waves, close your eyes.

In the afternoon, a Summer breeze, it whispers to me,

A windy day, Just listen! to the sounds that come your way.

A cricket on a warm, humid night, silence visits but there is life,

Just listen! you can hear whatever visits your wanting mind.

Keith Garrett

DID YOU HEAR IT LAST NIGHT?

I awoke last night to a booming sound, echoing across the sky,

Cracking like a whip was it as I lay there listening and wondering.

Thunder, louder it became, the sound of sparks high in the sky,

Very unusual as my eyes needed to see what this spectacle could be.

Nothing could I see except the sounds ringing into the dark night,

Did you hear it last night? it came out of the sky, I tell you no lies.

Like heavy footsteps across the clouds, horses galloping with no sight,

What was happening, was it something so real, was it just I who heard,

Did you hear it last night, did it bring you fright, was it from beyond the sky?

Keith Garrett

A PERFECT MOMENT

When darkness falls and the night is quiet,

Fighting is no more, words are of silence.

Sitting on a bench, hand in hand,

A drink for two on my private land.

When the echoes of sirens are no longer close,

The scream of the freeway is not near my home.

When all is everything I want it to be,

A fantasy is made in my own world to see.

A perfect moment can only be what we make it to be,

Things of change piece by piece, a perfect moment can be anything.

Keith Garrett

PLAYGROUND

IN MY MIND

There are times I like to escape from here,

Away from all this mess handed out from life.

Through my dreams’ and Imagination there’s a place to go,

A fantasy created by myself that only I hold.

Come with me on a journey Inside,

To my playground built for me, a place I can hide.

In my mind, I keep out that of which I choose,

Letting In only wishes of my perfect reality.

There’s a land of which I’ve come to find,

It’s a secret place, a playground In my mind.

Keith Garrett

HEY! HEY! THEY WERE THE MONKEES
Hey! hey! they were the Monkees, used to be here but where did they go?
Way back in the sixties they had their own t.v. show.
They were all pretty silly and funny, an odd bunch wouldn’t you say,
People still love to watch them, oh! yes to this very day.
Davey was English, a short sort of a lad,
A voice made for singing, banging the tambourine that he had.
Peter was like Harpo, quiet but funny,
A piece of the puzzle to make them as one.
Mike played his guitar and could really sing,
Somewhat as the leader to all four he would bring.
Mickey was funny, had a voice, and could play the guitar,
Back in the past, maybe a pop star,
Mickey Dolenz, Davey Jones, Mike Nesmith, Peter Tork.
Keith Garrett

AN UNCERTAIN AMERICA

Crime in the streets, it goes on in the day and by dark of night,

Anger and mistrust are now an epidemic of disease running wild.

Shooting guns are everywhere, open your eyes, beware as the enemy is here,

We are hated but laughed at all around this spinning globe, we are weakening, they know.

It is us who are deadlier, more dangerous than those who surround and invade,

Standing together we pretend, we are each one on our own, make no mistake, we are alone.

Our lives matter but only to us, there is no high power who cares if we survive or turn to dust,

Can you see it? every day the horror encircles our American way, we slowly decay, soon to go away.

An uncertain America where the flag moves slowly down, shredding a little each day,

Something wicked is coming soon our way, be well prepared with trust only in yourself.

Keith Garrett