BEGINNING TO AN END

I had walked the streets in a certain town,

For so many years, familiar faces and sounds.

Everything I did, all that I knew very comfortable,

It was my home but now it has gone and ended indeed.

Once again in life, this is my new beginning, strange it is,

I feel lost, a strange place with faces unknown to me.

Street names are just that, only names but not recognized,

Strangers are only people who have not yet become friends.

My new home has neighbors who have not yet become known,

Street names I will memorize so I will not get lost and all alone.

I like my new yard, yesterday has made many a change,

I now have a spot where I can be alone, I hide from the insane.

There is life that traveled with me, some that I have left behind,

I swim in a pool, this is my new day, I heard some new voices, walk a new way.

I’m an inch away from heaven, a lifetime from where I belong,

I can hear my father calling me, In my head, there is always a song.

Beginning to an end, the world is for us not to really understand,

I am here where I am, this is my new beginning, I am where I stand.

Keith Garrett

TO OUR OWN TUNE,

WE WILL DANCE

Different we are from one another,

The things we do different make us like no other.

Some of us move with an unusual step,

Or others may talk high pitched or deep voice.

A person may think of the same thing unlike a stranger or friend,

None are the same, we may wonder why until the end.

Why we see through our eyes In our own way,

Makes each one special every day.

Dance we will to our own tune.

Keith Garrett

ALWAYS A SHADOW

The sun comes up and the sun goes down,

They’re everywhere and always, make not a sound.

Shadows from clouds cast upon the ground,

As the sun goes down, shadows all around.

Shadows upon the mountains in the early morning light,

In the early evening, shadows that hide as darkness is in sight.

Always a shadow, shapes, and sizes stretched out across the land,

Shadows of figures, like ghosts, phantoms here and there.

Always a shadow, we carry this with every step we take,

Always a shadow even with the light still upon our face.

Keith Garrett

BY THE CREEK,

IS WHERE I DREAM

Away from everyday, away from what is always seen,

To a place of peace by the water, where the grass is green.

Birds of song dance in the sky, here in solitude, this is I,

A giant oak tree that’s as old as many night skies, by the creek.

Myself searching for a dream come true, seeking in my reflection,

In the still water the face of a man staring at me, what does he see.?

By the creek is where I dream, lost wishes sleep at the bottom,

This always working mind tries desperately to awaken them.

I’m a different sort of man now, lessons of mistakes learned,

Taught by what and the who of that which is gone away.

Lessons learned from the no more, by the creek, by the creek

Keith Garrett.

THE PRAYER

Where have I seen you, have I seen you before, how is it I know you,

Do you recognize this forever searching man as he seeks the path?

I’ve strayed away from where it is I belong, not as lost as before,

Show me the kind hearted one who will walk with me as I search.

I’ve discovered and I’ve lost but through it all much has been gained,

The miracle I have sought has not been for me granted at this time.

But perhaps a gift not chosen is the right and chosen gift handed to me,

Prayed have I for peace, happiness, and love, I watched for it day and night.

Do I not listen and am I possibly a bit clouded in these eyes of mine,

Are these things of want circling me always as my heart is closed?

I’ve taken a step back from those who may show care and concern,

I’m unsure and confused of which is friend or foe, how will I know.

Some of those who mean the most to me are not here, do not appear,

I am here, sometimes a little bit lonely, I await a soul who might care.

Keith Garrett

THE RIDER

He’ll ride in the morning, through the day travels the road,

High up on the hills, a shadow beneath the clouds, he rides.

Into the wind, the rain blowing against his face, he rides,

The snow falls as through the mountain passes he is moving.

A man with no name, throughout the land maybe a glimpse,

He’s known only as the rider carrying whatever for hire.

This horse he rides with colors of solid black and white spots,

A demon creature, wicked with speed like the wind.

Brown and black hat worn on his head gives a mysterious appearance,

A coat so long for cover and warmth shields him from weather, the rider.

Boots on his feet of dark, broken in pattern can be noticed in the stirrups,

This man of the land rides and rides just he and his faithful companion.

Like a ghost so quiet he roams the wild wilderness of life,

He’s known as the rider, into the night he rides.

Keith Garrett

TEARS FROM THE SKY

Watching the smog as it fills up high,

Polluted water, senseless acts day and night.

Wars of destruction, the greed in a man,

Acts of violence that destroy nature and human beings.

Trash fills the streets, anger and hate consume,

What are we doing in our world of doom?

Evil thoughts, random killings go on,

The family structure dissolves, crumbles, and falls.

Tears from the sky, god watches as our time goes by,

Stand back and watch, you just might cry.

Keith Garrett

I’M GETTING OLDER

I first opened my eyes, once tiny and bright to this world,

A memory I do hold but remember not as I was a baby.

Pictures of my life are few compared to the window of my mind,

Once only a child, things I knew were also few, children that played

With this child are lost with time, always in my mind.

The world seems smaller as my life has spread further with the passing days,

I’m getting older, once i was a young teenager moving ever so fast.

Birthday to birthday comes a new number pinned to my aging soul,

Grateful am I with a much appreciated thank you and love of god

That he has given me life this long, I hope and pray that one day I’ll

Be forever remembered and once in a while thought of by you.

I’m getting older, maybe a touch wiser, possibly a better me,

I’m getting older, remember who I am, my name is Keith,

I am a mortal man living in this gift layed in my hand.

Keith Garrett

FLIGHT OF A DRAGON

With speed like the wind, to the sky, it soars,

So massive this beast, listen to the sound as it roars.

Legend or myth, this monster of fire,

Just the sight of it is hard not to admire.

Of long ago these stories are told,

FLIGHT OF A DRAGON, in a time of old.

Where did they come from,? these creatures so wild,

Born down below or in the mind of a child.

Sometimes in your thoughts, look up in the air,

Flight of a dragon, maybe still there.

Keith Garrett

STORIES ARE TOLD

Traditions of storytelling from thousands of years,

Around campfires and in homes in times of old.

Thought up from Imaginations or a small tale that grows,

Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries of old.

A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to dream,

Around the world, many have listened, stories across the sea.

Stories are told that touch one’s soul,” listen child” they never grow too old,

Generation to Generation, within cultures of different beliefs, a tale that speaks.

Keith Garrett