Keith Garrett

War, How far back can I go, Nature of man to battle and conquer,

Does it have to be with weapons, debate and discuss until no end.

Think about how ridiculous and completely sad that it comes to a killing game,

Whatever the Issue it appears to be a fight as children would fight,

The difference being there is much more at stake when men can’t play nice.

War, never ending, I’ll just go back to the Revolutionary war, the Alamo,

Little big horn, The Civil war, World war one and two, is this enough.

No, Lets go to Korea, when it’s done onward to Vietnam,

So here we are today still with young men gone far away.

It has to stop someday, tears and crying need to go away,

I don’t agree because all men cause war, we wouldn’t need

Heroes if men would act civil and not go to war over what they

Want to get not what they believe, here’s to the men and women

Throughout time whom did their duty and part for the good of man

And that which they personally believe, wars are caused and then

The young men and women, those whom serve are wounded and die

Cleaning up the mess and protect what never goes away.

Keith Garrett

Wood needs to be chopped, It sits waiting many types and sizes,

Fall is in the air, chillier the air turns, work must be done.

A job it is to chop enough wood to warm a home for the Winter,

Must be done, perhaps no fun as it is an accomplishment to be proud.

Stack it in a pile, carry it piece by piece, chopped and split wood for a fire,

A smell, can you take it in, smell the aroma as it’s cut, stronger it grows.

A man with an ax gets this job done, he sweats from morning till the setting sun,

Swinging an ax, working as the cold moves closer, the wood pile will rise higher.

A man with an ax is strong and determined, he will succeed because he knows of its need,

When it’s done, a Winter of warmth, when the setting sun he knows the job’s done.

Keith Garrett

Hear this as i may have never spoken these words before,

May your days be plenty with a long, and wonderful life ahead.

Awake each morning to all the hope and happiness there could be,

My thought is that god blesses all good things upon you as you see your day.

May stress be a forgotten enemy far away into yesterday,

May your days always be the best wherever you are.

Walking in the sunshine is something so fine,

Dream the things that may be a life changing posibility.

Laugh as much as you can, worry put aside for as much as you can,

Feel the cool breeze, love the warmth of the sun upon your face.

The best you can do is believe in yourself and never give up,

There may not always be a rainbow but the searching never stops.

May your days always be the best as you strive to find your way,

Day by day we can always take the time to hope and pray.

Keith Garrett

Leaves of red and green, leaves turning brown,

Leaves falling all around, they fall and touch the ground.

Floating on down, wherever i’m walking, raining leaves,

Suddenly a gentle breeze blowing leaves beyond the trees.

Nights showing up sooner as the days become shorter,

Temperatures are dropping as the warmth of day earlier goes away.

A changing season is constant and repeats itself with the changing years,

Beautiful become the emptying trees, naked and alive without their leaves.

Slower does nature grow as soon getting ready to take that deserved rest,

The animals are beginning to collect and store for what’s next.

A changing season sets in motion a cycle of never ending energy and life.

Keith Garrett

                     As time began the wind came to life,

                           It had its moment of creation.

                    The wind has traveled to everywhere,

                    Seen by it is all places created by god.

                  All at once it takes in the worlds wonders,

                     Knowing many things and everything.

       What the wind has seen is the beginning until this day,

                           It has seen all that has changed.

                    The formation of man and all that stands,

            What the wind has seen is a never ending journey.

                      Keith Garrett 

              The mighty Yankees, nineteen twenty seven is recalled,

Murders row, the fortunate ones saw them play ball.

New York City, the house that Ruth built,

Almost a century ago, men of baseball.

Miller Huggins, manager of a most powerful team,

Biggest park in the majors, balls still sailed the walls.

The babe, the Bambino, Sultan of swat,

Bat in hand against many a man, Into the stands.

Born of German descent, the Iron horse was he,

Louis Gehrig would go down in history at an early age.

In center field Earl Combs would stand,

Left field was Bob Meusal, glove in his hand.

Second basemen Tony Lazzeri waiting for the ball,

Double play would be many a call.

Mark Koenig, Joe Dugan, John Grabowski, and pitcher Waite, Hoyt,

There was a time for them, murderers row,

Now ghosts in time, forever be known.

Keith Garrett

I’m here to tell you so relax because we have forever,

At that time i would like to have joined you but not yet.

There was at that time so much life for me to understand,

We were so close but when it happened i hid from the world.

When you were struck by that car my whole world went away,

I would always talk to you but i knew i would get no answer.

I missed you so much but i had a life to live, i let you go,

Never would i forget you, there was no one better in my eyes.

You were kept in my heart and as the years went by i was not afraid to die,

Life was wonderful but i was really looking forward to being with you again.

I knew the time would come when we would see each other again sweetheart,

I lived my life and time the good lord gave me, so now i’m here,

We now have eternity to catch up and you can again ask what took you so long.

Keith Garrett

                On ships they sail for destinations of turmoil,

              Fly across the sky, planes, jets, and helicopters.

                Young men of plenty, they strap on their gear,

                   Armed for battle, a weapon in their hands,

                               Men of war in a far off land.

                Some will die, wounded, they will come home,

                    Scars on their flesh, pain stricken minds.

                  That which they see is a haunting thought,

          Remember forever whether they believe in it or not.

                 Storm the beaches, run through the jungles,

                     Across the desert they fight for survival.

                          Men of war, bring them back home,

                        End all the fighting, Isn’t it about time.

                            Keith Garrett              

High upon the hill I could see him standing there watching,
Not much could  make out of his appearance except he was there.
He was waiting, I had to find out who he was and why he stood there,
I looked up to towards him and began to climb, he just watched my quest.
Tired as I kept moving on up the hill, grabbing onto whatever was within my grasp,
There he stood, I could see him clearer as i climbed higher and higher.
He was an old man with a lantern in one hand and a cane in the other,
Darkness fell upon the land as my climb took longer than it seemed.
Dressed in a robe with a hood over his head as closer I came to him,
I reached for him as he smiled and waved his cane back and forth.
When he removed his hood there he stood an older version of me,
As a young man I stared myself in the face, a look of many years.
There he stood, A long time to climb so high, an old man is he and me.
Keith Garrett

stands in this spot from centuries ago,

Tales of old from only ghosts that know.

Made of stone by men whom no longer speak words,

Without windows to close, from many nights ago, voices still heard.

Kings and queens, a princess or prince,

Stories of wizards and dragons pretend.

Down through the halls were there knights of the land,

Hand in hand do spirits walk in a castle that stands.

Pictures of dust hang on the walls till this day,

Memories in the wind on dark nights, do you hear?

Candles all lit, a fire in its place,

This castle of old has a voice and a face.

Keith Garrett