UNSEEN



I'm all around, sometimes I'll go away,

 In the morning a visit, maybe at the end of 
 Your day.



 I've been known to whisper or at times a scream,


 I push through the trees, perhaps awake you
 From a dream.

 I may go very fast or swirl around,




  Everywhere Is where I am bound.



 Since the beginning of time, from then I was born,



 Always will I be here with an unseen form.


                  Keith Garrett

                                                                                          IN MY DREAMS

 Asleep in the night, I was talking on the phone,


 My conversation switched from brother, voice 
 Of mother,

 In my dreams that familiar cough heard as she 
 Did speak.

 Angry was her tone, just a blur as a dream is 
 Only a dream,

 A computer disguised as a television, appears 
 As a game.

 Pieces surround like a chemistry lab, my mother 
 On the screen,

 In my dreams she is as a professor with bright, 
 White hair.

 A mystery it is about dreams and what they may 
 Tell you,

 In my dreams she may exist from time to time, in 
 My mind.

 The reality of it all is that mom has gone away, 
 She did not stay,

 We hold her in our hearts and pray for her 
 in a heavenly place.
                        Keith Garrett

                                                                          GREEK GOD OF THE SKY


 It rests way up high, giant in the dark of night,



 So far away, when was it formed, millions of 
 Years from today.


 Beyond the stars, spinning in outer space, thirteen 
 Rings around its face,


 Father of the sky, seventh planet from the sun, 
 Will you ever perish and go away?

 You go by a name known to all from the beginning of
 Man, Uranus be your name,


 Quite strange as you spin forever tilted on your side, 
 A collision be the reason why.


 You orbit with others of names which have been formed 
 So many human lifetimes ago,


 Beyond the Earth, space is a place of much mystery,  
 Just as you hold a mystery of your own.

                Keith Garrett

                                                      REFLECTIONS'


 Like the sunlight on a clear window, my 
 Image appears,

 Thoughts of yesterday bring a picture of 
 You to my heart.

 Wandering back to you Is a place In my 
 Dreams at night,

 Of the past It Is a part of you, live do you 
 In a piece of my today.

 On lakes and rivers, oceans and wet ground 
 After a storm,

 Reflections of a kind or memories brought 
 To our minds.

 Wishing, wondering what might have been,


 Backwards In time to watch has gone by, time.


 Mirrors are looked Into and looking back are the
 Faces,
 Reflections of another kind, thoughts that we find.


 Images of all kinds, like being children somewhere  


 Back In our minds.

               Keith Garrett 

                                                                                  A SAILOR

 A sailor talks of far away lands and the ports 
 Where he would like to be,
 He relates to all in a salty drawl, his love 
 For the roll of the sea.

 Let's hear him boast of powers so great, let's 
 Hear of his deeds so bold,

 Let's hear him tell of seas of hell, and the 
 Treasures he's bought and sold.

 Let's hear his yarn of the south sea Isles, his 
 Romance on balis shores,

 Or the girl he had with eyes so sad, in the 
 Land of the sliding doors.

 And let me tell you what you never hear, of 
 The loneliness that tortures his soul,

 When the sun's last light gives into night, 
 he's a dreamer, not a sailor so bold.

 Yes, a sailor dreams when the sun goes down, and 
 The wind lies slack on the sea,

 Of the heavenly bliss of a woman's kiss, and the 
 Home where he longs to be.

 There, a lamp burns low thru the lonely night, there 
 A heart waits patiently,

 Their tears are shed as a prayer is said for a sailor 
 Who dreams at sea.

 To live his past let no man wish for, there is 
 More than the tales he told,

 Though his laugh is long and his heart is strong,
 Inside he Wrestles his soul.
               Leon Russell Garrett

                                                                                       LEPRECHAUN

 A small, mischievous Elf, dressed in green attire,


 Belts of black, boots perhaps of the same color.


 From Irish Folklore, It has been said they have been


 Seen roaming the Irish countryside, these wee folk.


 Members of a clan, they invaded Ireland, banished to 
 Live underground,

 Standing only two to three feet tall, these devious
 Characters.

 Quick witted, intelligent, they evade capture from 
 Humans,

 They live in underground caves with entrances or a 
 Hollow trunk of a fairy tree.

 It is said that wishes of three have been granted 
 To some who leave them be,

 They are known for their love of Irish music and dance, 
 Instruments played.

 Tin Whistle, the fiddle, Bodhran, and the Irish harp, 
 A look with beards and pipes,

 Shoemakers they are, believed because of all 
 The dance they do.

 To catch one of the wee folk is nearly impossible as 
 They are smart with magical powers,

 Vanish into thin air they can, a pot of gold 
 Is a most possible dream.

 You'll hear an Irish Leprechaun before 
 You'll ever see one,

 They have a fondness for drinking Irish Poitin, 
 Catch one if you can.



                  Happy ST. Patricks Day,

                      Keith Garrett

                 LAND ACROSS THE SEA


 Make your way across the water, across the sea,



 Let the flowing ocean that surrounds us take you.



 On a journey under the earth night sky to a land,



 On the water it rests, hills of grassy green, a place.



 See this lady they call Ireland, land across the sea,



 Beautiful sounds of music from there, take a journey.


                Keith Garrett

                     " MAGIC"


 Wizards with wands or magical dust,


 Four leaf clovers and a seven showing 
 Always on two dice.

 Witches and warlocks, wishes or rainbows,


  Do dreams come true, there are stars and moons.


 Do unicorns exist, are there spirits In the mist,


 Is magic a fantasy, what you feel are prayers 
 That are real.

 Magic lives In the heart, It Is a wanting hope 
 For all that you feel,

 All you hope will be real.


                                                                                                              
                  Keith Garrett

                                                                                                 
         AND THEN THERE WERE NONE



 A fight for survival, man's quest for power to 
 Rule,


 Fear and ignorance but money will be the tool.



                                                                                    Inventors of destruction, builders of a  force,



 The enemy is our brother, traitor to the land.



                                                                                        Which side are we on, who is on our side,



                                                                             
 Conflict and hatred, how many must have to die?



 And then there were none, not much left to say,



 Put the bombs away, we may have another day.


                         Keith Garrett

                                                                                      
          HE TOLD ME OF HIS LIFE

 As he sat down in his rocking chair he began 
 to speak,

 With a smile, he invited me to sit and went 
 About his story.

 His life as a child, at the beginning of a war 
 For Independence,

 On a farm in South Carolina, he lived with a 
 Father, Brothers, Sisters.

 He went on to tell of adventures in the Summer, 
 Just before it happened,

 A big house, great times with family, working the 
 Farm each day was tiring.

 He must have been about ninety years old now, the war 
 And those days long gone,

 A childhood recalled, swimming in the pond with 
 A friend or two, The night's moon.

 He told me of this war being all around them, nothing  
 Would be the same, Much change,

 Tears in his eyes as he described that time and place 
 Where brothers and family died.

 He sits in his chair today, many years away 
 From there, He lives in that house today,

 He sits in his chair on that porch where as 
 A child he played, He told me of his life.
                   Keith Garrett