ANOTHER TIME AND PLACE

I write to you from yesterday, a very long time ago for you,

Long before you were born in a town of people and family.

My family and I were up before the break of dawn, working,

Children of a simple time but at times not so simple you see.

Horses were a common thing just as your car is in your time,

Things of your day not dreamed up as of yet, life was hard, also fun.

Here in yesterday, there is sickness that kills many as there is no medicine,

As I sit here on my farm watching my wife and kids play I write this to you.

When you receive my letter it will be that I and those I love will be gone now,

You will have all the things that we here have never seen, good and bad.

There are beautiful things and land that will disappear with time, I can see them,

I live here in another time and place just as you do, I hope this letter gets to you.

Keith Garrett

ACROSS THE DESERT I TRAVEL

My challenge this day, a trek across the always dangerous desert,

Pack my things, just myself and a backpack complete with all I need.

Dressed In jeans, hiking boots, long sleeved shirt, and hat I am ready,

Early morning as the rising sun stares down upon me, time to move.

Such a feeling to seem alone In the world step by step through the quiet

Morning while nature does its own thing, I am watched as I walk.

Across the desert, I travel with a breeze swirling around what surrounds,

The heat of the day has not yet arrived as I continue my quest through the desert land.

So much beautiful and unusual plant life, animals seen from a distance,

The sun Is moving, day Is disappearing with shadows forming upon this land.

I’ll soon make camp with the animals of the night, a fire so bright, warm with light,

When the morning comes then I will continue my journey until I am done,

Across the desert, I travel.

Keith Garrett

A WORLD OF TIME

From the hands of time too the international date line,

We take our time from Greenwich, the hourglass is our sand of time.

Wristwatches, stopwatches, twelve months in a year,

Fifty two weeks, three hundred and sixty five days.

Twenty four hours to our day, is it long enough to live and play,?

Minutes disappear, seasons tick away.

We work about eight hours with what we do,

Forty hours a week, we’re never through.

Maybe two days off, forty eight hours to rest,

Only so much time to love and visit with anyone.

Time to feed the kids, time to feed the dog,

Not enough time to stay young, awake and start the clock,

A world of time, always on the mind.

Keith Garrett

A WORLD OF SICKNESS

As the world grows older we see that with it the world grows crowded,

So many people cover the lands stretching far and wide, the world does not grow.

This is a beautiful place that has been given to us all but together we are losing,

Survival may be harder than it was hundreds of years ago as we can not sleep wherever.

We can’t just wake from sleep and shoot our breakfast, the creek is not always there,

To camp beneath any given tree is now frowned upon as our society changes towards the rich.

Desperation and anger are greater than ever before, this we hear each day from words spoken,

Protests over many issues that do not change, only the mistrust for those high above grow.

Deceived daily are we sometimes by the people we may know but scarier those whom control,

Lies, broken promises, pay-offs from hand to hand between powerful people and government man.

The fight to own but in the end, they’ll take from you your home, we are violated as they spy, fear grows,

A world of sickness lives as we struggle to keep our health and sanity, neverending traffic brings hell.

A world of sickness forever grows because the more humans form the bigger the tumor becomes strong.

Keith Garrett

A WAND OF MAGIC

In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,

Not even a word and crime would disappear.

I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,

Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.

Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,

The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.

I could run fast or jump high,

A tear would be one less for all of mankind.

The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,

With a wave from my hand, this would end.

A wand of magic need not be that of evil,

For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.

A wand of magic is not to be real,

We can wish, hope, and pray, that it all goes away.

Keith Garrett

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A VISIT INTO YESTERDAY

As I couldn’t seem to believe I was really there where at a time a ten year old boy

Without so many worries ran and played, a dreamer who was much afraid.

Saturday, August thirty first two thousand and thirteen I once again stepped

Onto that school ground and thought of all that use to be and faces hard to see.

With the wind as my eyes searched around a long lost laughter, invisible sounds,

Remember the grassy playground,? today I imagined the ghosts that did in fact play.

Watched did I those memories of a yesterday, the trees are much bigger,

There was one that I use to sit under and read books with some friends,

It still stands, much older though, shadows of us sitting there, now older I am.

Many changes there are as change is in everything, today I changed,

We said goodbye and began slowly away as I looked at houses of old.

Brett Olsen, Mike Keefe, and Brad Gribble’s house I remember,

Ron Laufercade, Lori Prichard, Neil Haynes houses were filled with ghosts,

Others are a bit faded in my mind, heading for Esperanza to see what we find.

Pulling up in front of a school, a place of so many thoughts and memories,

In the heat of the day, we took pictures of a long ago yesterday.

One last stop beyond where once a donut shop stood, Winchell’s,

Past the park with the tennis courts, around the corner of Cordova Street,

A picture of a house, a memory, Kim Gilberts, a memory that rests with me.

Keith Garrett

PAGE 1.

A VISIT INTO YESTERDAY

A drive in miles not so far as the journey through time,

This trip I took with a friend, to Yorba Linda on a hot humid day.

Down the road, a boulevard with the same name as a city once lived,

Around the corner, closer a school where ghosts of friends now walk.

The gates were open, emotions filled the soul of a man for another moment a boy,

We walked the grounds where friends no longer speak or laugh, quiet all around.

Down the street and around another corner, Amberdale to Fernglen Drive, back home,

Out from the car, we step, hot and humid but here we stand in front of our childhood.

As the years pass it’s a little hard to recall who lived in what house, so many friends,

Staring at my old house as a picture is taken, seen from my eyes is a family inside, no more mine.

Bryan Martin’s house, my old friend, a friend far from there as I stare and freeze a thought, a picture,

A house from nineteen seventy two, I remember you, the things we would do.

I stood there in spots where once my feet walked, the face of a house where a family

Forty years gone, the Darcy’s, a friend standing by my side who also once lived inside.

Up and down many streets where young girls and boys once played and dreamed.

Above it all, over a hill, we traveled closer to a playground, a school where children

Once upon a time sat in classrooms to learn and listen about the world we would see.

A TRUE OLYMPIAN

What seems like a lifetime of preparation and hard work Is here,

Sacrifice, blood, and sweat have been understood throughout.

For years getting ready for the ultimate competition Is recognized,

Whatever the battle you’ve been preparing for Is close, are you ready?

Stand and face your opponent, hold your head high and face your fear,

Strong Is the athlete who does finish whether win or lose, still a victory.

To make It there, be chosen to represent a country Is already a winner,

Raise your hand high In the air, wave the flag of colors and be also proud.

You are a true Olympian If you worked that hard and made It, head held high and proud.

Keith Garrett

A THANK YOU DEAR LORD

It’s me again, many thoughts swirl in my head,

For this life you gave to me, I am most grateful.

I wake each morning to the rain or shine,

You’ve let me walk your worldly creation, I’m still alive.

I forget at times and also for granted take,

This life is precious, there’s much good in the world.

A thank you, dear lord, for the things given to me,

The wonders of this land at times are hard to see.

I’ll try to remember that fragile is man,

Speak to you soon, I keep trying to understand and be the best I can.

Keith Garrett

A PLACE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE

Their Is a place, It takes a lot to get there, a search everyone must make,

There’s a place, It might be so far from where you stand or closer than thought.

A place where dreams are made rests deep Inside the heart, desire to succeed,

They are made with hard work and sacrifice, up late Into the night, weary eyes.

Running every morning before the sunrise catches up with you, make that dream come true,

Climbing the mountain until the pain disappears Into a numbing nightmare of fight.

Rowing across the channel against the ferocious water, It’s up to you to make It back to shore,

You can do It!, this Is a place where dreams are made, battle through what tries your mind.

Through the jungle you make you way, nothing stops a man whom dreams of a better place,

Don’t give up, say this to yourself as you struggle for that fifty, fifty chance to make It a dream.

You are the men, the women who run when the bell rings, sirens take you beyond the danger,

Remember, It was all of you who passed the test so that a life may be saved, you had a dream.

Do you carry a gun,? a badge worn every day from sun till sun, this was your dream, my friend,

To win each day Is to go home and walk through that door with a kiss for a family, you survived,

A place where dreams are made, Inside the human soul, the spirit of those who never choose to lose.

Keith Garrett