HE WOULD BUILD AN ALTAR

Nobody believed he would survive as he lay there dying inside,

This young boy of twelve shot by an evil man with no heart.

A father with a faith so strong would never give up on a son,

His family, friends, and a town were concerned about his behavior.

He took his son to a wide open field of green grass where he might heal,

Set up camp and began to pray while his son lay motionless, staring.

He would build an altar of stone with a cross placed upon the top,

Seen for miles by travelers, talk of this altar and father would also spread.

Night was falling, the sun setting, supper was ready, and a visitor would show,

An old man with a cane would ask, let me try as the boy would not take broth.

The old man asked, if he is not saved will you lose your faith,? No said the father,

The old man went behind the altar, the father followed and the old man was gone.

Nothing but distance all around, where could he have gone, the father believed,

The father now wore a beard as the next night a storm was forming, this be the night.

The old man appeared in the dark and told the father, go to the altar! now!,

Lightning struck the altar and the father fell to the ground, the night was done.

When morning came and the sun rose in the sky his family was there wondering,

The father stepped from behind the altar, a true miracle as did his son with life.

Keith Garrett

HE WANTED TO BE ALONE

High up In the hills away from the crowded hostile world,

He lived alone, a quiet man of peace In his cabin of a home.

A fireplace and a pile of wood, always chopping to keep It warm,

He has all that he needs or wants with a roof above his head.

A man wakes to the morning light, begins his day with a cup of coffee,

A companion joins him for breakfast, a four legged friend of loyalty.

When the days are beautiful and filled with the sun they venture out,

Walking among the trees and the beauty seen high above what lives below.

He wanted to be alone In his made of wood home, he and a friend,

In the night as the crickets are the only sound, a chair, and a smoking pipe,

In a cabin on a hill lives a man mostly alone, all that Is needed, a smile and a home.

Keith Garrett

HE STOOD BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

Driving along the dusty road I could see him In the distance,

A tall figure of a man, a long way from anywhere, who Is he.

Dressed In Jeans, a bit dirty to be expected, boots, and a dark shirt,

Warm outside In the middle of the Summer for where he stood.

What are you doing out here so far from civilization I asked him,

He did not speak, would you like a lift and maybe a drink of water.?

He hesitated and then stared, a very strange sort of man standing there,

There might possibly have been something wrong as he accepted the ride without words.

We traveled along for quite a while, music playing as quiet rode along with me,

He was such a mysterious being but for some reason, I felt trust In him.

We kept driving along the road, many sights to see, I looked at him, he smiled,

Who Is this man who doesn’t speak and stood by the side of a road In the heat?

We came to a place where In front of us stood hills stretching far beyond our reach,

He motioned for me to stop, Put his hand on my shoulder and then again smiled,

Where are you going I asked,? He pointed, got out of my car and walked away,

Turning he said the words thank you friend and were no more to be seen.

Keith Garrett

GOLDEN HAIRED LITTLE GIRL

She was born In nineteen twenty eight, a star she would soon be,

This golden haired little girl with a pout that could melt anyone’s heart.

She would sing and dance shaking her golden curls all about,

A beautiful little child, a star growing up back in the thirties.

There has never been a child star like her and never will be again,

Her smile would light up any room, she lived in a time of depression.

World war two was closing In but her movies could take away the struggles

Of everyone’s pain from those days, you could go away If only for a moment.

What a life for a girl named Shirley, so young when the whole world knew her,

In a time of great entertainers, a changing world, Shirley Temple was around.

She grew up to be a woman but the little girl would go on to live forever,

Her movies will never go away so she will live in our hearts always.

Here’s to you golden haired little girl, In heaven, you’ll be again that little girl.

Keith Garrett

GODS MIRACLE

He seemed to have dropped from the sky,

No memory or thought of an earlier time.

A gift he had, a gift from God,

The gentle giant with a loving heart.

Guilty of nothing but judged just the same,

A healing hand, a gift with a burden.

His name was John, a miracle of God,

A sentence of death although a good man.

Soon he would die, a chance to be set free,

The gift that he had made him tired and weak.

But how could one of gods miracles be of any evil sort,

His name was John, never did he do anything wrong,

One of gods miracles has died and gone.

Keith Garrett

GLOVES ON HIS HANDS

He trains on his own, a hard and painful, lonely, road,

Up with the sun, a day that’s never done.

A boxing man, at times, beaten and battered,

Win or lose, he’ll give it all that he can.

Blood is his sacrifice, swollen knuckles, and hands,

Stands and faces the enemy, twelve rounds if he can.

Knocked to the canvas, back on his feet is this man,

Eyes that are half closed, strength of a warrior.

This chosen life, a courageous man with gloves on his hands,

A champion, a winner no matter the outcome.

Keith Garrett

GETTING BACK HOME

So badly have I wanted to go back to where I belong,

A house in a place where friends once visited and played.

Going back where everything has changed, nothing the same,

There are times when all dream about making that trip back.

It’s never the same when you try to go away back in time,

Getting back home, so many times we wish, but where is home.?

A fantasy in our minds as time moves forward and we journey on,

We can travel back and see it for what it is but only in our thoughts of yesterday.

Getting back home, home is today, where we stand, older as we continue to dream.

Keith Garrett

FUNERAL FOR ONE

Life is lived to its fullest having friends who last a lifetime

The people you meet along the street, throughout school and beyond.

Co- workers known for such a long while, do you make them laugh and smile,

What mark, what lasting Impression will you leave upon the world.

Will there be those who will really care enough to be there for those moments,

We always hope that family is the most important of all from beginning to end.

The sad fact being that a lifetime can add scars and create a wedge between,

At times family and friends may, unfortunately, drift apart and not return.

Sometimes we do make amends before in our lives too late it is,

That’s not always the reality of things as regrets are for everyone.

If it’s not too late then visit, call on the phone, don’t die alone,

This is not the way you should go away, not a send off for you,

Funeral for one is not much love shown for anyone.

Keith Garrett

FROM THESE EYES SEE

What do I dream, look into my eyes, what do I see,

To you are my eyes beautiful, what do your eyes see.?

My eyes shine in the light, they’re a color of brown,

A face I wear but you do not see, you will not see me.

From these eyes seen are amazing and wonderful things,

In my time there have been tears shown to you, why.?

These eyes take in all that will appear before them,

Do you know me, have you seen me before.?

Keith Garrett

FROM THE DARKNESS

There’s a sound, stare into the darkness,

Footsteps are there, listen to the crunching of leaves.

What’s in the dark,? can you see that it’s real,

Does it watch you as you try to see, can it smell your fear.?

From the darkness, it moves closer but much too dark,

Out of the darkness it is you who cannot step.

Feel it as you know it is there, you know that it stares,

Your eyes are open but only for you, darkness is everywhere.

What is it that haunts the one who lives in the dark,?

Could it be all the sounds that you do not see?

From the darkness, you cannot wander,

From the darkness, you cannot be.

Keith Garrett