When things get tough and the days seem much to long,

A step at a time and a deep breath is that which we do.

When the night comes and the day is at its end,

When there’s nothing you can do for the rest of this night,

You have to let all things be given to god so that you may rest.

A new day begins as it is hard, so difficult to show patience,

Feelings of helplessness, not having any control over the situation.

Perhaps it might even be that your life rests in anothers hands,

To wait, pacing day and night will do you no good, faith gives strength.

One day at a time in any situation is what each one of us has been granted,

Hard to relax and at times keep calm when you seek action now.

To be told to take it one day at a time can be a difficult, frustrating, thing,

One day at a time is life, hard at times but what a wonderful blessing.

Keith Garrett

As a child he lived here many years before,

The great depression was not a time of all pleasant things.

It was however a time of childhood, a sunset for some,

There was a family of fathers and mothers, sons and daughters.

A boy was he of seventeen, a dreamer, a writer,

He had nothing but he had also everything.

On this mountain in Virginia he was born,

So many days ago, long gone are they now.

He wrote his many thoughts by a lamp in the night,

Played games with his brothers and sisters.

Together this family sat together for dinner each night,

A lifetime ago is when this story was told.

By a boy whom with his family struggled but did laugh as they

Were blessed with much love and togetherness,

On this mountain, once upon a time.

Keith Garrett

A poem is beautiful, It can be anything that you wish it to be,

What lives in a poem,? Imagination of the wondering mind.

It can take you away, a vacation of choice to anywhere out there,

A dream that lives inside, written words that greatly describe.

What lives in a poem are the memories you carry around always,

Sad happenings of realistic times, happy, wonderful things that define.

Your thoughts and all that makes you whom you are,

To write, too make that what lives in a poem come alive.

What lives in a poem can be any place you want to be,

You can go anywhere, write a fantasy life or live in a dream.

What lives in a poem is the real you and all that you see.

Keith Garrett

“Old Man” by Keith Garrett
Who he was did not matter to me as each day i passed his way,
On a porch swing or rocking chair he would read or listen to the world.
I gave him a smile in which he replied with a smirk from his face,
Who are you whom sits in the morning sun thinking thoughts never done.?
I am a man but once a child running from sunrise till dusk, i am a man,
I’ve seen the years and have done many things in my time, once full of energy.
‘Old man’ on your porch is sitting there all that you do, tell me your story,
Are you waiting to die as each day you grow weary from nothing at all.
You are much younger than i as there was a day when i too looked like you,
What makes you think that i did not dream, that i did not succeed.
Who keeps a man company as he rests alone everyday, who loves you,
As once their lived for me a love so true, she went away, who are you.?
I am an old man and for me their was a love of beauty so fine,
Today i am loved by those whom will pass me by, listen and smile.
Do you fear that life has not much more time for you old friend,
Will you grow tired of quiet nights with thoughts that never end.?
Tomorrow sunrise brings with it a new beginning, possibilities,
When i grow tired then sleep visits me, dreams fill this old man.
I am young but not so wise as i did not understand passing by,
The day will come when i too will be some what like you.
You called me old friend as just moments ago i was a stranger,
i did not matter to you, wisdom will grow but learn from it.
As i pass this way i will see you in a different way fore you do matter,
You’re not just an old man, you have spirit and soul, old man,
My friend.

I walk fore It Is that I can not drive, I make my way to where I go,

Shopping Is a chore but I do It on foot and carry many bags home.

I have to do It In the rain, heat, but I see things that they don’t notice,

With my headphones singing to me I take notice of that which Is alive.

I have been judged by those whom have no morality, they speak words of Ignorance,

If I am lost In silence then I am called the bad mood, grouchy man, I am with peace.

We can all argue till the end of the world who has a harder time In life, yay!,

I work harder than you, my job Is more stressful, some make more money and pay the price.

I have a most difficult life In all that I see Is a hardship that only I can really understand,

They talk a good talk as my everyday Is nothing to them, they care nothing about my Pain.

My dreams are unreal to them, these dreams I dream are a reality they can’t see,

They don’t wear my shoes, they can’t walk my walk, they can’t win the battle I fight.

They don’t wear my shoes so their words of wisdom are of no use until they walk my road.

Keith Garrett

Heavy It Is, It weighs on everyone’s shoulders, the world hurts,

What to do as our world gets smaller and the number of souls grow.

Crowded, the skies are filled with flying machines heading everywhere,

Traffic lights soon will stand upon our oceans, cars may suddenly stop.

Where will all the trash go, It finds Its way Into the streets, nobody sees,

Plow It under, pretend It goes away, Into the drains chemicals make their way.

Competition to rule the world, how many bombs can be made before Insanity sets one free,

Fake smiles from those whom share power, privacy Is nomore as they are out there watching.

Weight of the world, It Is upon all of our shoulders but not one of us Is really In control,

We are all at the mercy of the universe but we have been given a piece of It as a gift,

The life Is being drained from It, whom or what watches as we tear It apart, we have nowhere to go.

Keith Garrett

Excuse me kind sir!, could you please tell me which way to heaven,?

I have spent almost a lifetime In search of, wondering where It might be.

I just like you do not know where It might be although I have thoughts of wonder,

I believe It begins with the heart Inside and which road It Is that you travel.

But sir, I do have a kind heart but what do you mean by the road In which I travel,

Are there clues that I haven’t seen, Am I missing something on my journey.

Your road, the path that you choose, the way your life Is lived, are you a believer,?

You don’t need clues but you are missing something on your journey, look Inside.

Kind sir!, thank you for your time, but I did not get your name as we came upon each other,

I had my name and you will learn to follow the same road I once did, see you In heaven.

Keith Garrett

My thoughts and memories go way back In time to a far away place,

Not so far In distance anymore as the distance In my mind, Amesbury.

There are times when I can smell the air and still feel the cold, snow,

I remember I was only four and a half, I do recall that far back, East.

My eyes can see those purple grapes on the vines, the hills up above our house,

Playing with my friend Donnie, we had many adventures as kids back then.

I’m not really sure but there appeared to be woods or trees down our street,

I remember riding my batman bike, a cellar out back I do believe, not a dream.

I had a bag of blocks, all different colors and shapes, I was just a small boy,

I can remember the snow storms that put the power out, I can see candles In the house.

A memory of being In my bed staring at my Herman Munster head on the dresser,

Coloring books, cartoons such as Milton the monster show, Christmas Eve snow.

Icicles hanging from rooftops, making snowmen out In the freezing cold,

Sometimes I want to go home, back to where It all began, when I was most happy.

I remember laying on my parents bed, staring up at a full moon, when will they be home,

I think of a dad out In the snow, can somebody answer me, where did he go.?

Throwing snowballs Into the street, cold through my gloves, I remember me,

So many memories locked Inside the mind of a long lost child once upon a time.

Amesbury, Massachusetts seems like a dream, A story written from thoughts of a child,

There once was a boy named Keith, he had a life that’s been written In a book put away.

It sets on a shelf but never does It again get read, thoughts that rest forever In a mans head.

Keith Garrett

Words and there meanings are written upon paper, In books, they live,

They can be put together to become stories, poems, plays, and movies.

Words can be formed Into sentences so that we may understand one another,

A cry for help, that morning hello or gossip that travels so far and fast.

Words can be the enemy, make others believe false things about another,

Words can hurt If In fact we choose to let them, after all they are only words.

Words can set In motion a chain reaction of anger and misunderstanding,

Words with lies attached are a most dangerous way to say things, listen.

What words can do Is destroy lives, families, friends, and nations,

Build walls that take lifetimes to finally crumble, at times too late.

Words can Indeed heal hearts, they begin lives between two that love,

What words can do, how they’re used, a gift that at times Is abused.

Keith G arrett

They soar to the sky, sound of engines screaming,

Above them the great beyond, below, land and sea.

Patrolling the skies, keeping the enemy far away,

Ready for the fight, battle if they must.

Danger is anywhere, men who will give their lives,

These are the fighter pilots born to fly.

Look up high and see as the jet wash trails go by,

Faster than can be imagined, bravery is alive.

Fully armed when duty calls them to the sky,

Fighter pilots defend, they travel far and wide.

Wherever they are, wherever they may go,

They wear a uniform representing the american soul.

Keith Garrett