THIS IS THE BOSS


                                                                    Out on the stage with guitar in hand,


                                                                Giving to the crowd, music from this man.


                                                                 Moving all around the place as he sings,


                                                    The audience is amazed at this performance of a king.


                                                                  He has a voice that's rough and strong,


                                                                Throughout the night he plays his tunes.


                                                                     A band leader of talent, this is true,


                                                                  Night after night, preaching the blues.


                                                                  This is the boss dressed up for a show,


                                                                   All night long, he plays for the world.


                                                                 Keith Garrett

                           EASTER  BUNNY


   Where does he come from, this figure of folklore, 



  A symbol of Easter from many generations ago.



  This rabbit that brings Easter eggs during the night,



  Also called the "Easter Hare" Sometimes shown wearing 
  clothes.


  As legend tells, he carried colored eggs in a basket, candy, 
  And toys,


  To the homes of children who were good and obedient.



  Easter bunny, Easter bunny, I thought of you during the night,



  A gift to me of a colorful Easter Basket, by morning's light.

             Keith Garrett

         WHEN THE CLOCK STOPS


   It measures our time, an hourglass in our mind,



   All are not equal, not the same amount of sand.



  A timepiece which shows our days, hour by hour,



   With the sun we plan our existence minute by minute.



   Everything is measured from the creation of time,



  When the clock stops we drift into a consciousness of 
  Another kind.

                                                Keith 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

  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 
  That leave them to 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

                      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

   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 fairytree,

  It is said that wishes of three have been granted to some that 
  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

                             YOU WERE MOM


  I can't quite remember when I first opened my eyes,


 From that moment you were always by my side, mother 
 Of mine.

 You held me when I was hungry, fed me as I drifted back 
  To sleep,

  Made me feel secure, washed me and made sure I was 
  always clean.

 When I woke from a scary dream it was you who took away 
  My fearful screams,

You were there when I was down, near and always around,
You were mom.

You taught me about the things that I should know, about
The world as I would grow,

You were a friend, a companion, but most of all, you were
My mother, you were mom.

Memories I will never forget, I would trade them all for one
More day, you went away,

I will see you again in a different kind of land, you were mom,
thanks for all that you were.
                                                  Keith













































































































































































































































































































  
























































































































































































































































































        
                                      You were there when I was down, near and always around, you were mom.


                               You taught me about the things that I should know, about the world as I would grow,


                                 You were a friend, companion, but most of all, you were my mother, you were mom.


                               Memories I will never forget, I would trade them all for one more day, you went away,


                           I will see you again in a different kind of land, you were mom, thanks for all that you were.

                                       Keith Garrett

     A THANK YOU TO A VALENTINE,

                       INDEED



  As children in school over f0rty nine years since passed 
  We were,

 We find ourselves here in the future, through facebook we
  Met again.

 From Indiana you traveled, i remember you standing there 
 In my yard,

  From boy and girl we in our own way have journey'd, here 
  We now are.

 Through pain and struggles fore life is a roller coaster ride, 
  We ride,

 You're there when I fall asleep, again when I awake to a 
  Hopeful new day.

  You are the one whom does stand by my side when life 
  Becomes tough,

  Each day is real, not always full of magic or a fantasy story 
  Told, Indeed.

  There is not a number for the things that you do, can not 
  Count that high,

 We are not of perfection, not a fairy tale you see, we are 
  You and me,

  For all that you are and do, a thank you to a valentine, 
  Indeed so true.
                                      HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY,

                                                      KIM

      
     There's a war on, it's been planned,


   Strategies have been worked on, enemy close at hand.


   Two Generals who do know of each other,


  One's arm is his cannon, the other a fighter.


  They're gearing up fore it's time to stand and fight,


   Strap on their armor, weapons are of many.


  Through pain or blood or the dark, cold, of night,


  They do not surrender on this battlefield of might.


  Armies of two, strong and fearless they march,


Until one is laying on the field, battle rages on.


  This is a battlefield like no other,


  Strength and speed, mistakes must be few.


   A near perfect game plan, a prayer, and some hope,


   To the victor, a field taken, champions proud,


  They will stand tall.


         Keith Garrett