A DAY WITHOUT SYMPATHY
I awoke in the morning, I fell out of bed,

A bad headache but no aspirin for my head.

I went for a cup of coffee but only an empty jar,

Maybe some toast but the butter was at the store.

I went to get the paper in a puddle of mud,

The dog chewed up my shoes, what am I to do.

Got dressed and headed for the car, off to work I’ll go,

The car wasn’t there, stolen wouldn’t you know.

Went to call the police, locked myself out of the house,

Headed for the bus stop, watched the bus drive on by.

I flagged down a cab, please get me to work,

No wallet in my pocket, I gave him my watch.

I walked through the door, fearing I was so late,

This is your day off, you don’t work today.

No way home so I put out my thumb,

No one would stop, I walked all the way.

I had not a key, Oh! what a day,

I broke the window, the door was open all the way.

My T.V. was gone, the phone did not work,

Nothing to eat, time for some sleep.

I went to my room, the bed was gone,

A day without sympathy, on the floor I did lay.

Keith Garrett

SOUNDS IN THE HOUSE

I remember you and me, we were children, a family of plenty,

Summer fun, swimming with our friends in the hot, endless sun.

Listen to your memories and thoughts, a day in your life, Yorba Linda,

There were sounds in the house, years of growing up, voices of change.

I can hear the seventies in my head, watch carefully, life of yesterday,

They echo, the voices from brothers and sisters, frozen in time.

There was a time when we were really there, a mother and father did speak,

What happened to their words, the sounds of their voices are so far away.

Sounds in the house were not always of peace and happiness, they were real,

Resentment towards one who did not want to listen, I did hear you.

I heard quiet sounds, sounds of love and pain, sounds that never go away,

Sounds of Yorba Linda that traveled through open windows of a long-ago house.

To a house at 19941 Fernglen Drive. 1972-1977

Keith Garrett

A SEARCH FOR ANSWERS

Since the beginning of time much curiosity of what’s before us,

Thoughts and questions had man on journeys of discovery.

About the oceans, such mysteries far down below, always questions,

Voyages to find out why and what this all means, neverending search.

The mountains, the sky that circles our huge planet that is so small,

Why in the span of time we get only a moment to understand our existence.

A search for answers has been a quest of man since the first breath given,

Never will it cease to be a search for answers to these questions we seek.

Keith Garrett

“JONATHAN”

Jealousy for a young girl would soon turn to grief,

Wishing selfishly that her newborn brother would never be.

Through coincidence and reasons only God knows, a brother dies,

Believing in her heart and mind that her bad thoughts are to blame

She travels far, high upon a mountain where closer to God she might be.

Tired, so very tired as she lays herself down upon the mountain ground,

Before she sleeps a prayer she makes to God for her brothers’ life in place of her own.

When the morning light shines this child awakes covered in warmth and a man with a smile,

Where did he come from as he asks how she slept and a bowl of hot porridge offered to her?

He asks of her journey there, he is a most unusual sort of man who appears to possess much wisdom,

She speaks of her conversation with God as he listens with a look of great understanding.

“What is your name she asks,” I am Jonathan! this is my mountain and you are far from home,

I wanted to be as high as possible so that God would hear me when I said I was sorry.

Listen, child! It’s not your fault, he has made his decision, your brother with him, you with your family,

Was this a miracle that a father found his daughter high on a mountain, was he shown the way,

Where was Jonathan, was he an angel,? she shared time with him, never again was he seen.

Keith Garrett

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

I’ve drifted across the open sea, I wait for you to find me,

In a bottle I have been placed, a message that I am alive.

You are no longer there anymore but I let you know I exist,

A thought of what you meant to me, a thought of what I once meant.

If my message gets to you yet then again how can this possibly be,

You are a memory from yesterday, I am a thought that sails the sea.

Time does not stop, It has no sympathy, it makes what is what was,

Life and all that’s within it is reduced to memories, things of yesterday.

Message in a bottle is what I am, If you find me take me for what I am,

You are forever now, I am something that will one day fade away.

Keith Garrett

I AM NOT A RICH MAN

BUT RICH I AM

I do not own a home or a treasure chest of gold,

Stocks and bonds are few, diamonds are a little too.

I am not a rich man as calculated by statistics and daily man,

A special car or a vacation home does not show of my value,

I am not a rich man, estimated by paper money or material things.

But rich I am, If life is valued in a simple way, just a regular day,

These things are free but of gold bars to me, listen to what makes a rich man.

If love is in your day then rich you are in a most special way,

I can walk and see with my every day, I breathe freely, I’m okay.

A roof over my head, clothes on my back, never to bed am I hungry,

So much can cost money, beauty, staying healthy, a song you sing is free,

But rich I am, with that which is mine and my thoughts every way.

Keith Garrett

LAUGHTER IN THE WOODS

How deep the woods, into the mist of the early morning,

Through the trees my feet walk upon the aging leaves.

Can’t see the sky beyond the trees so high,

Quiet is the sound as i move along.

Something there, an echo through the cool, wet air,

Laughter far off in the distance, no one there.

I search as it calls to me, my curiosity,

Listen to it i do with no direction be known.

Are you there, are you anywhere, someone,

Laughter in the woods, only laughter in the woods.

How strange it seems, am i only in a dream,

The sounds of neverending laughter are here.

Laughter in the woods, nothing but laughter in the woods.

Keith Garrett

A PERFECT CRIME

They think that they are of something unique,

No one ever is watching, no one sees they think.

They plot and they plan, not so logical, woman or man,

Thoughts that roam their scary, sick minds,

They act calm and kind as they plan ones demise.

A perfect crime of many sorts fill the criminal minds,

They seem not to worried about being caught at the time.

Going on with their deeds believing they will always be free,

When they plan a perfect crime, what is in their minds.

Keith Garrett

A DRIFTING MAN

On a road of travel without any end,

Rests his weary body wherever he can.

Sleeps in the night hidden from sight,

Days’ of length, the next stop is any place.

From town to town he wanders with hope,

Worry fills his head about that next meal.

Find a job and stay in one place a short while,

Friends and smiles disappear with the miles.

A drifting man sees much of the land,

Meets many faces, lonely where he stands.

A price he pays to live in such a way,

There’s a gift in seeing the world,

What’s taken away is the peace of settling in one place.

He chooses a path, he’s a wandering man,

Today he’s here, gone again.

Keith Garrett

YORBA LINDA,

AND MY PARENTS

Memories of Yorba Linda and my parents are something from a dream,

It seems like it was yesterday, so many years ago when we were together.

We had our house on Fernglen Drive, we lived in the moment, no worries,

From nineteen seventy-two to nineteen seventy-seven we were a family there.

Five years seemed like a lifetime back then, so many great times in that house.

Not everything or day was perfect, We all had our own struggles and bad times.

My Mothers name was Barbara, unfortunately, she passed away on March 16, 2019.

I remember them both so young and alive, busy lives like every other parent.

My father had passed away in nineteen sixty-nine, Halloween night, horrible!

Doug Keener is my stepfather, I recently found out that he was diagnosed with

Dementia. We go from young with energy to not just getting older but these

Diseases that take everything from us. Yorba Linda was my favorite place in life.

Barbara and Doug had fights and laughter, nights of family dinners and watching T.V.

They spent time with friends, out to dinner and family trips that would come to an end.

Yorba Linda still rests there in my mind, with the hills that once were, the old streets.

A house that still is, who lives in it who has no idea or thoughts of us in it.

My parents did have lives once upon a time in a house upon a hill, Yorba Linda.

My mother is gone now, a stepfather who is now getting ready to slowly disappear.

He will at some point forget that house, a wife he once had, good and bad times.

Yorba Linda and all of us will be gone from a man’s mind, memories of great days.

My mother was once a beautiful lady, she took care of her family and had troubles

of her own. When I think about seven kids in the house and two stepsisters over

for the Summer, I don’t know how they did it, a lot of work and a drink or two in hand.

Yorba Linda and my parents was a long time ago, memories that rest in cobwebs

In a long-ago town.

Keith Garrett