HER EYES, BIG AND BRIGHT


 She stands there in the morning light,



 The sun shines bright, down from the sky.



 She waits for me,  there in the wind blown grass,



 I watch her as silence surrounds our world.



 Trust is no easy task as this beauty has been hurt 
 Before,


 Her eyes, big and bright, I saddle her and ride in 
 The night.

                         Keith Garrett

                 WATCHER OF THE SEA


 High above the water, overlooking the ocean,



 Built above the rocks standing tall under the sky.



 With Its' eyes of light so bright watching for those,



 Guiding who might approach these shores, looking.



 For so many years It sees, watches, and waits,



 As from across the horizon travelers make their way.



 Watcher of the sea keeping your eye on what Is all 
 Around thee,


 Whether the light of day or the dark of night, you watch.



 Trusted by many are you, counted on for safety,



 You are the watcher of the sea, lonely as It may be.


                    Keith Garrett

                 TO CATCH THE WIND

 Out there, free In the early morning light 
 From the sky,

 A shadowy figure stands motionless, as the wind 
 Blows across the land.

 Feeling the fresh air swirling around this  
 Powerful spirit,

 It raises Its' head to the rising sun.


 Miles and miles to the North, South, East, and West,


 This great beast can run under the wide open sky.


 This miracle of nature, a magnificent creation 
 From heaven,

 With speed and quickness, gallops to everywhere.


 Such a gentle friend which stands up tall,


 Fast, Oh! so fast he may run, and run to catch 
 The wind.

                     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 

                MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE


 I've drifted across the open sea, I wait for 
 You to find me,
 In a bottle I have been placed, a message that 
 I am alive.

 You are no longer there anymore but I let you 
 Know I exist,

 A thought of what you meant to me, a thought of 
 What I once meant.

 If my message gets to you yet then again how can 
 This possibly be,

 You are a memory from yesterday, I am a thought 
 That sails the sea.

 Time does not stop, It has no sympathy, it makes 
 What is what was,

 Life and all that's within it is reduced to memories, 
 Things of yesterday.

 Message in a bottle is what I am, If you find me take 
 Me for what I am,

 You are forever now, I am something that will one day 
 Fade away.

                                   Keith Garrett

                    ARMS OF GOD


 Outstretched, they reach far and wide, around 
 The world,


 Fierce and strong, they can crush or destroy 
 What's needed.


 Careful and loving as they will comfort when the
 Going is tough,


 A being so full of mystery, with power and wisdom 
 So unknown.


 Creator of all that we know and more, arms of God 
 Will carry us home,


 Wherever you may be, within all that we see, they 
 Exist to help us up.


 Touching a universe that seems to have not an ending 
 of discovery,


 The arms of God are not to be seen as they are not a 
 Fantasy or a dream.

                                  Keith Garrett

                    HUMMINGBIRD   


 Wings fluttering so fast in sight, 


 Yet hovering in one place, a color so bright.


 Small as they are yet fast they disappear,


 Where do they go when darkness is in the air.


 Searching for nectar in flowers of a tubular shape,


 From here to there, they move swiftly to anyplace.


 Mysterious they appear, like no other type of bird,


 When they pass you by, slightly they are heard.

                                  Keith Garrett

               HIS FACE IN THE WINDOW

 Passing by as I do each day, there stands a 
 House of yellow,

 The yard is most beautiful with many colors of 
 Blooming flowers.

 Shrubs and trees that dance in the wind, the morning 
 Sun shines,

 The birds and squirrels rise early to the day, 
 Gathering What's before them.

 My days'  are the same as they are different in many 
 Ways,

 The sun rises and sets while i go about every busy day.


 Seen by me is his face in the window, most often you see,


 His yard is always so amazing, outside he's never to be.


 I've never seen his face so clear as to know him very
 Well,

 Never have we even spoke, i don't even know his name.


 His face in the window, it's all I know to be,


 Who is this man and what kind of life has he seen.


 Why does he only show his face in the window,


 Does he really hide inside, is his life just passing 
 By,

 Or is it perhaps that he only shows himself in the 
 Night.

                    Keith Garrett 

                PUPPETS AND CLOWNS


 Dressed up each day in what we are to wear 
 For the man,

 For work not for play, every day survival, an outfit, 
 Our costume.

 A ritual practiced, obey fore to be compensated,


 With the printed paper handed to us so that we are 
 Of worth.

 We're to let them pull our strings, dance and put on 
 A certain face,

 Puppets and clowns, humiliating and a sad disgrace.


 We're to have no real thoughts of our own,


 Speak so that they do not hear,


 Put on an act for those who are made up of power, 
 False power.

 Puppets and clowns, puppets and clowns, are we they?


 Turn it around, is the world upside down, we have 
 No strings,

 We dance for no one, only for fun.

                          Keith Garrett                                     

                 ON THIS MOUNTAIN


 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 who 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