ABOVE THE WAVE

Out on the horizon, beneath the sinking sun, It rolls In,

They all come to watch, they come to ride the wild surf.

For the true surfer, It comes from within, at one with the wave,

Shooting the tube, living on the edge, free to glide across the water.

From Australia, the split, surfers’ paradise, they battle the rolling storm,

To Hawaii, Waimea Bay, North Shore, Pipeline, or Hanalei Bay, the wave.

Above the wave where dreams’ are made, surf the open waterway,

Around the world beyond the shores of Peru to New Zealand, ride.

Above the wave, beneath the wide open sky, forever ride,

Touch the water and listen to the sound of the crashing waves.

Keith Garrett

CHILD WITHIN

Run and run until the day was done, fun in the sun,

Not a care, chasing butterflies within the wind.

A book that’s numbered beginning with one until it’s done,

I played in the sun, playing and laughing with children no more.

A child within an adult that would one day find a way out,

Child within, the older we get always seeking a part we once were.

Our faces do change, lines appear in the light, older by night,

Hair turns color as the seasons turn into years, eyes show more.

One less fear, a new one is here, another tear, dried with the years,

I see where I’ve been, we all walk our ongoing road, we have a child within.

Keith Garrett

A WORLD OF NAMES

They call him every day gay, so what’s in a name,

Does he not have a heart and personality?

Screamed out in the street, less than the color black is he,

Is he not a man, what makes any color better than you.

A boy was he, love of the dance but many names of unkind,

Names that would not serve the world in any decent way.

Called names and beaten because he was shy, tell me why,

Because he was shy, the bully is nothing in these eyes.

Too heavy or too thin, judgment from those who are weak,

Hurtful words from blackened hearts, those with not much to say.

I began to learn that life is too short to hate the world away.

Keith Garrett

KEYS TO THE KINGDOM

For whatever it’s worth you came out on top,

Power in the hands of the right and wrong is scary.

You are human but who are you really behind those eyes,

Through the years, from any shore, leaders are seen with fear and war.

Behind guarded doors of a house, Palaces and castles on foreign soil,

Keys to the Kingdom are held by those with or without morals.

There are battles fought to hold onto or gain possession of many keys,

Keys to secret places, vaults, and of course, keys to the end of the world,

Some keys should be destroyed, taken from them who misuse keys to the Kingdom.

Keith Garrett

THY THUNDERING HEART

Listen to the sound of my heartbeat, rumbles as i sleep,

From where it is you rest can the rhythm play to your ear.

This heart cries for a moment spent alone with beautiful you,

So long has it been since our walks together, forever, forever?

No prince am I, only a man with a spark of love in his eye,

Not a King of anything, no kingdom of riches to worship.

A knight in shining armor is a dream I am for you,

A beggar of wanting is not what I’ll do, not with you.

A movie star of handsome features you will not see,

Just a man who loves as he lives and dreams.

Thy thundering heart laughs and feels life’s energy,

Hurt and pain circle my every day but go away, go away.

I love you, I love you, thy thundering heart says so,

Heart and soul, from the heart growing old, strength from you.

Keith Garrett

STORIES ARE TOLD

Traditions of storytelling from thousands of years,

Around campfires and in homes in times of old.

Thought up from Imaginations or a small tale that grows,

Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries of old.

A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to dream,

Around the world, many have listened, stories across the sea.

Stories are told that touch one’s soul,” listen child” they never grow too old,

Generation to Generation, within cultures of different beliefs, a tale that speaks.

Keith Garrett

DESPERADO

More than one hundred years ago he lived,

In a small village somewhere in Mexico, a boy.

Poor was his family as each day was a struggle,

There were those close by, the bad ones who stole everything.

A day came when his village was destroyed, family killed,

Survived did he to one day grow to be a man.

Revenge would be his only friend, not a bad man was he,

With pistols at his side, he would seek justice.

They called him desperado, a no good criminal,

He stole from them who once took everything meaningful.

His gun did the talking, anger ate at his soul,

He lived by campfire, ate what he shot or stole,

Justice was one day his, his reward was always on the run.

Keith Garrett

jUNGLE MUSIC

Take a fantastic journey into their world,

The birds so exotic watching high in the trees.

Sounds come from hidden places of darkness,

Snakes slither and hang from tree branches.

Tigers and panthers roam quietly for prey,

Monkey’s sing out as apes go their own way.

Insects fly far and wide, an Aardvark is noticed,

Baboons speak a different way, Chetah’s on the prowl.

Chimps or Cougars, Elephants so loud,

Watch for a Gorilla, a Hyena is found.

A Jaguar is seen searching the grounds,

Climbing a tree, a Koala is around.

A Leopard has spots and talks his own way,

As for the Mongoose, what does he say?

Wild dogs and Wolverines, Zebras and birds,

Jungle music is played, they all know the tune.

Keith Garrett

LORD OF KINGS

Rulers of many lands, they were different but greed the same,

Treasures valued beyond the real purpose of a living man.

Since the birth of man and the rising sun, war is never done,

Blood spilled with time, lies and guilt, death seems but a crime.

There are Kings who sit upon thrones of deceit and evil deeds,

I wonder If there ever was one who thought more about the common good?

The Lord of Kings Is a mysterious one, creator of all things great and kind,

Master of Earthly scenes, creator of the universe, that which men build and destroy.

Keith Garrett

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