MEMORIAL DAY
MEMORIAL DAY
When we think of Memorial Day, what is it to us,
Is it the looked to barbecues with friends?
Maybe the beach and lying in the sun,
Going to the park with our children, relaxing.
Is it watching movies, drinking cold beer
For the day,
Going away camping, forgetting the troubles
In our way.
My father traveled the oceans, sailed the seven seas,
A navy man in the Korean war, his journal tells me
Of all the places, lands where he would be.
i hold in my possession the poetry he wrote on
A ship in a time of war,
The things I have to remember him ar not just
In a wooden box, they are stored in my heart.
When the sounds of planes, jets, or what flies
On Memorial Day, Listen carefully for the ones
You love, miss, or lost, think of them today.
For those who are lost, missing, who gave their lives
For what they believed, pray for all of them, the
Thousands of family members who rest together in
Heaven. Keith Garrett
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
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
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
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
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
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 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
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
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