"I DREAMED I WAS A CHILD"


  There was a place, there was a child, was It real, 
  Why was he crying,

  A street, a neighborhood, a school where laughter 
  Lived, clowns on a wall.

  Duck, duck goose and a circle of friends,' round 
  And round they ran,

  A boy named grover, swingsets and a dream, I 
  Walk there it seems.

  A small boy, lonely In his thoughts, a dreamer of 
  Things not to be thought,

  Monsters under the bed, who peeks In his window, 
  Above his frightened head.

  I dreamed I was a child but who Is It to be, a fathers' 
  Son from yesterday,

  A child trapped In a place that does not let go, cartoons 
  And sounds of planes.

  Reality was but a moment, childhood Innocence and 
  Magic slips away,

  Where were you little girl when my October drifted 
  Into eternity.

  Imagination and Icecream trucks, playing musical 
  Tunes for a dime,

  Warm Summer days, lost In a mans' child dreaming 
  Eyes.

  It rests In cobwebs, It quietly waits for my return,


  A place hidden from my mind, It watches, It knows 
  What I have seen.
                                            Keith Garrett 

              MYSTICAL DREAMS OF SHORES UNSEEN


  About a land so far across the sea, stories of
  Knights from days lost,
  Castles of stone, standing through centuries of 
  Tales told, those who know.
  Kings and Queens, ever since this Island was 
  Discovered back in a dream.
  Magical wizards are fables of men, said to them 
  As a child long ago,
  Those dressed in armor, a King by the name of 
  Arthur, and a sword.
  A legendary table of round, sat Knights so long 
  Ago on shores unseen,
  Princes and Princesses, dancing at parties of 
  Royalty, in a far off land.
  Commom men and women lived together, and 
  Begged for food  a hand.
  Along the river, lakes of swans, gliding across 
  The mirrored glass,                           
   Over the hills, where the whispering winds 
  Watch the grass dance.
   In the English night sky, through the known 
  Expected fog of the land,
  A rising moon, shines its glowing light upon 
  The trees, upon these shores.
  Seasons of many centuries, witnessed by a people, 
  with voices of sound.
  Sir Lancelot dressed for battle, riding high upon a 
  Dark horse, into forever.
  Dragons of fantasy flying through the sky, wings 
  Spread  soaring,
  Breath of fire it is told they possess, demons 
  Brought to life in a dream.
  Legends of many moons long since past, ghosts of 
  Heroes wander in mist,
  Mystical dreams of shores unseen, songs sung in 
  Green meadows.
  A beautiful sound from voices such a long time ago.

                                   Keith Garrett

                                           A MYSTERY


  Something not discovered, a story that grows,



  That which can not be figured out, a mystery.



  Who did it, or how did it happen is a question,



  Responsibility for a disappearance or crime.



  Aliens are around us constantly, keep searching,



  A mystery it is about Jack the Ripper, who was Jack?



  Things exaggerated from the human mind, folklore,



  A mystery grows with time, a mystery created with time.

                                                 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 the 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 

                                   THE WRESTLER


   Broken down, a man aging In appearance and spirit,


   A lonely road Is wandered by this wanting warrior.


  His pain Is out there, It Is of the heart, love lives In 
  The ring,

  The world does not need him, what he needs Is no 
  Longer there.

  Tears run down an old but regretting face, see him as 
  He searches,

  Loneliness Is a prison of unwanting sorrow, his fight 
  Has an end.

  Scars of yesterdays' blood are a reminder to a once 
  Young soul,

  The only thing of value left for a man Is one final 
  Goodbye dance.

  He Is the wrestler, battles within him are now done, 
  Darkness lingers,

  He walks In the sand, he sees the sinking sun, his day 
  Is almost done.

  He struggles to the ropes as he rises one more time
  Through the pain,

  A tear, a smile, through the air, fade to black, he Is 
  The wrestler.

                                   Keith Garrett

                              A VIEW WORTH SEEING



  Fortunate if you are to see through the darkness,


  For granted do not take the gift of light, always night.


  Scenes and visions from the mind are wonderful at 
  times,

  To open your eyes and nothing rests in your sight, 
  A fright.

  A view worth seeing comes to the grateful eyes day 
  Or night,

  The morning light with the birds beautiful in your 
  Sight.

  Wherever you go a picture of color awaits, always 
  Changing,

   Each day a different view, open your eyes to a view 
  Worth seeing.
                                                Keith Garrett

                                "THE RIDER"


  He'll ride In the morning, through the day 
  Travels the road,

  High upon the hills a shadow beneath the 
  Clouds, He rides.

  Into the wind, the rain blowing against his face, 
  He rides,

  The snow falls as through the mountain passes 
  He is moving.

  A man with no name, throughout the land, 
  Maybe a glimpse,

  He's known only as the rider, carrying whatever 
  For hire.

  This horse he rides, with colors of solid black 
  And white spots,

  A demon creature, wicked with speed like the wind.


  Brown and black hat worn on his head, gives a 
  Mysterious appearance,

  A coat so long for cover and warmth, shields him 
  From weather, the rider.

  Boots on his feet of dark, broken In pattern, can be 
  Noticed in the stirrups,

  This man of the land, rides and rides, just he and his 
  Faithful companion.

  Like a ghost so quiet,  he roams the wild wilderness 
  Of life,

  He's known as the rider, Into the night he rides.


                                             Keith Garrett

                             "A STRANGER"


  Cobwebs and tumbleweeds, traces of life and the past,


  A forgotten road not so often traveled, not anymore.


  Where do they go, the ones we once knew and walked 
  With,

  More and more they become ghosts, faded faces from 
  Yesterday.

  Time slips away slowly, Into my tomorrow, where my 
  Memories are found,

  Friends' are now strangers, strangers are now my friends.'

  There once lived a woman who I did not know, she lived 
  Her life without me.
           
  In her there was not a thought of me, for me she had no 
  Meaning,

  This stranger that I had not met would someday be the love 
  A man could not forget.

  Like the wind forever blowing, she has drifted, a stranger 
  I never knew,

  Where did you go,! where did you go,! A stranger I love, a 
  Woman I'll never know.

                                          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                                                     

                         SINGERS OF A LOST TIME


  Chubby Checker had the peppermint twist,

  Chuck Berry sang out Maybelline.

  Jerry Lee Lewis screaming great balls of fire,

  It was Buddy Holly and Peggy Sue.

  Johnny Cash, his song walk the line,

  Elvis Presley belting out Jail house rock.

  Rick Nelson was the Travelin' man,

  The big bopper with his Chantilly Lace.

  Richie Valenz yelling out La, Bamba,

  Nancy Sinatra and a tune of boots.

  Petula Clark going downtown,

  Patsy Cline singing softly with crazy.

  Janis Joplin giving a piece of my heart,

  Grace Slick chasing white rabbit.

  Pat Boone echoing out April love,

  Little Richard pounding out long tall sally.

  Jim Morrison feeling rider on the storm,

  Jimmi Hendrix in a world of purple haze.

  Robert Plant on his stairway to heaven,

  Eric Clapton, after midnight or wonderful tonight.

  Singers of a lost time, they come to mind.

                            Keith Garrett