WRITE THE POEM


 You have it in you, stories to be told,



 It's in your heart and soul, young or old.



 Whatever it may be from the sky to the sea,



 Thoughts from your mind, life, and times.



 Write the poem, write about today,



 Yesterday is gone, words about the sun going down,



                                                                                       Write the poem.

                      Keith Garrett

                    "BILLY  JACK"


 Hatred was not what he was about, time would make him 
 Hate worldly things,

 Hurt was something he did not want to put upon any man, 
 He would be forced to fight.

 He had a temper, beliefs that would put him and those he 
 Loved in harms way,

 He was not wrong, society and those of corruption decided 
 He was not in the right.

 Integrity of one man, again he would stand as one tin 
 Soldier against the wrong,

 He stands at times alone, not without love of the people, 
 Against the corrupted souls.

 "Billy Jack" I read about you as a child, I sat under a 
  Tree As a dreaming boy for a while,             


 A book that made me want to see more, A movie, a man,  
 And Much, much, more.

 You were a war hero just as you did see what was wrong  
 With Government and war,

 Never did you run or hide, you went away at times to 
 Find peace, to be alone.

 Not a criminal or murderer as you defended against those 
 Whom would do you wrong,

 Society saw things a different way when you took off your 
 Boots and raised a gun your way.

 On the bloody morning after, one tin soldier rides away, 
 Then back he would stay
                    Keith Garrett

              IN THE SUMMER RAIN


 Walking the trails, baby you and I, together 
 Under a clouded sky,

 Dark and stormy, the wind howling through the trees 
 Speaking as it travels.

 You start running across a wide open grassy field, 
 Wind blowing your dress,

 Your hair so long and beautiful flowing In the days' 
 Breezy weather.

 Chasing you do I along the path created by your 
 Footsteps Following you,

 Thunder rumbles through the clouds, the wind making the 
 Grass wave across the land.

 Taking hold of you with my hands gently around your waist 
 As I hear a laugh,

 Drop by drop the rain begins to come down, It falls 
 Showering us now.

 Turning you around, I kiss that soft, wet face as you 
 return a kiss to me,

 There Is love In the Summer rain, there Is you and I.


                                 Keith Garrett     

                FROM THEIR HEARTS'

                    CRY SONGS'


 Listen to the sound, close your eyes and feel what 
 It is that they speak,

 Poetry cries out from these two hearts' of musical 
 Inspiration.

 They sing of dreams', possibilities of love, and 
 Sadness around,

 Separate thoughts', voices known well together or  
 Apart Are these men of Imagination.

 With so much emotion, out from his soul come words' 
 Of hope,

 Art Garfunkel stands' a dreamer In a not so perfect 
 World.

 This mans' guitar tells' tales In magical tunes of 
 Rhythm,

 Paul Simon Is a thinker of the wonders' that life holds'
 For mankind.

                  Keith Garrett                        

                   FROM MY OWN EYES'


 There are many things' that I can see,
 The blue sky above and the light that the sun brings,





 I see those who wander all around,
 They have no home, they don't make a sound.





 I see those who are only concerned with their own,
 They have not a care for others' around.






 The trees that I see, move from the wind passing through,
 I see the birds' fly fore this they can do.






 What Is It I see when I'm looking at you,
 Is my future still to come, for us things' we may do.


                   Keith Garrett 

                                                                                           
            TREAT FROM THE DEVIL


 It has no heart nor soul, feeds on life and 
 Is so cold,

 Hate is this monsters only friend, takes until 
 The end.

 Watches you with delight as the suffering haunts 
 Through the night,

 Who you are disappears along with your fight, 
 Blurred with fright.

 Treat from the devil, cast upon the human race, 
 Within our veins,

 We share this gift of evil, like all wars we may win a  
 Battle as the war rages on.

 So much energy, do we forget who we are, for a breath  
 Of life, We carry forward,

 When it drains our days, tries to remove our smiles, 
 Dignity Will not be removed.

 Eyes of life, a smile within the pain, a glimmer of 
 Hope that takes us away,

 Cancer does not die, life it watches end, treat from the  
 Devil, It is not a friend.
                                 Keith Garrett

                   TREMONT AVENUE

  As a young boy I lived in a town, on a street,


  Amesbury, Massachusetts, Tremont avenue.


 Two story house built in eighteen ninety five,


 Over one hundred and twenty five years old.


 Beautiful trees, I recall woods down the street,


 Friends whom can't be found, a long time ago.


 Stormy nights, a full moon, seasons of snow,


 A tire swing, a snowman falling to the ground.


 Family, parents, a bag of colored blocks were mine,


 Nineteen sixty six is a year I do recall, grapes 
 On a vine.

 Christmas trees and snow falling down, Christmas Eve,


 Batman and the Munster's, coloring books and cartoons,


 I remember Tremont avenue, Mom, dad, and you.

                     Keith Garrett                

                      1943 NICKEL


 A nickel I came upon, old is its age,


 Dirty and worn, 1943 had a name.


 When it was made, which first pocket did hold,


 A celebrity of movies or a farmer tired at night.


 Could it have been the great Joe Dimaggio, 


 As time went by possibly a singer or Olympian.


 A little boy had a nickel in his pocket, grew did he,


 A famous writer he became, a 1943 nickel, where could 
 Could it be?

 Beyond seventy years this silver looking coin has 
 Traveled,

 Today it rests with me, who held onto it in 1943?

      Keith Garrett

  Keith Garrett   MYSTERY OF HER SONG