THIS HOUSE

                                                                                   
                       THIS HOUSE


    Standing along a River bank within years of trees,


    This house so old has been for more than a century.


 It has a story, secrets that remain inside its stone walls,


      Built to withstand wars, survive the test of time.


 Windows there are of many, windows that eyes have looked through,


     Eyes that no longer see, lost in this house for eternity.


 There are rooms that can not speak fore if they could, horrible screams,


 Those whom have slept here never awaken from their peaceful dreams.


   This house is not haunted as none of the dead have ever stayed,


     It sits here quietly as all who have entered never go away.

                                 Keith Garrett

UNSEEN

                          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

A WALK IN THE FOREST

                                                                                
                   A WALK IN THE FOREST


 The time is now, Autumn is alive with a different feeling,


 Darkness is longer in the morning, slowly the leaves are upon the ground.


 Plants and trees grow slower, nature never gives up on the day,


 Animals are busy preparing as Winter is not far away, earlier the sun fades.


  A thought of a walk in the forest to escape for a moment, everything,


 Tall trees that cover much of the sunlight that warms the land we wander.


 Leaves that have piled for many years make a sound beneath these traveling feet,


 A walk in the forest, so many times I have dreamed of this while trapped elsewhere.


 Quiet, yet not quiet as there are sounds in a place as this like there are no other,


 A walk in the forest, a dream that I have not yet discovered, a reality discovered.

                               Keith Garrett

ELLEN DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE

               ELLEN DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE


 I think of how she liked to run through the field of flowers,


  A smile so bright, as if not a care in her world, memories.


    We swam in the lake, laughing under the hot Summer sun,


 Walking to school on cool, Fall mornings, playing along the way.


    She went away, such a sad day as my friend went far away,


 I still see her running through that field with her smile so bright.


  If I listen on quiet nights I hear her splashing in the water, her laugh, 


   I walk to school in the morning wondering if she is by my side or near,


        I get tears because Ellen doesn't live here anymore.

                                  Keith Garrett

WOUNDS OF TIME

                                                                                           
                     WOUNDS OF TIME


                                                                        
           Innocence and pure, the new born child,



                                                                          
             ay by day what's taught and learned.



                                                                            
             With an eye that which is witnessed,



                                                                        
            An ear, sounds of many spoken thoughts.



     Physical pain, hurtful words that disable and change,



 Corruption and crime, nightmares of life that torment the mind.



                                                                          
             Like scars, lessons that make us strong,



                                                                    
            Wounds of time sometimes alter a clean mind.



       Can't is only a word, failure learned from weakness,



                                                                       
           Our minds and bodies see battles over time,



       Learn from them, survive, unkind are wounds of time.


                                                     Keith Garrett

WHAT MAKES A MAN CRY?

                   WHAT MAKES A MAN CRY?


       Loss from his heart or a fear haunting Inside,


       Death of a friend or a love dying slowly, why?


       Loneliness created by a life of anger and pain,


         What makes a man cry, what makes a man cry.


          Whom will understand, who might know why,


     The things In the heart of a man that make him cry.
 

       Macho and tough are a disguise, only a facade,


          Two sides of emotion, a real man can cry.


      The wanting and care from a woman who knows tears,


          What makes a man cry, the hurt In her eyes.


          What makes a man cry, she who says goodbye.


                                                                     
          Keith Garrett 

PAINTED CLOUDS

                          PAINTED CLOUDS

       I walk the morning, the air has a chill and a breeze,


   Out In the distance, above the hills they float like balloons.


             Shapes or sizes and colors of difference,


            Splashed across the sky are painted clouds.


             Vanish, they go away for a moment In time,


                Reinvented, shaped from heaven above.


                 Pastel colors appeared In my sight,


          Rays of light from the sun trying to peak through.


           An Invisible smile, a memory of a face sketched,


       Forever In my mind, eyes of beauty, a voice that echoes


                        Through the clouds.


                                                                                                
              Keith Garrett

MASTER OF THE GUITAR

                                                                          
                      MASTER OF THE GUITAR


    Hammer of the God's, like a wizard, black magic possibly,


      An outfit he wears, decorated with dragons and snakes,


      Black attire, tassels hanging from that which he wears.


     Master of his guitar in hand, double neck belongs to him,


      Magician of musical sound as he dances across the stage,


   From a legendary Led Zeppelin band, he is the great Jimmy Page.


    Bow in hand, he strums to Dazed and confused, mystical tunes,


       Animated with such a floor show, speed of his fingers,
    Go Jimmy! go,

 Master of the guitar, magnificently he plays, from England, the amazing Jimmy Page.

                               Keith Garrett

SOMETIMES

                        "SOMETIMES"


         Sometimes I wait for the telephone to ring,


          A wanting for a voice that does not sing.


         Sometimes I dream about and sometimes I cry,


       Love and peace are held deep Inside, understand.


       Sometimes I feel that I have to go away, I stay,


       So many things to do as I work and play, listen.


        Sometimes I'm a very tired and complicated soul,


          I'll keep on pushing till the day grows old.


        Sometimes I battle the Invisible fight, my fight,


     Something to prove as my time gets closer to the light.


         Sometimes I search for an Imagined hope of love,


        Can not find that which does not wish to be found.


        Sometimes I think that I am not seen by many eyes,


  Perhaps at times my mind Is closed and It Is I that am blind.


        Sometimes I wonder If the world does not need me,


          As I discover a wanting for more that It holds.
           Keith Garrett
                                                                        
            SOMETIMES                          

SADNESS IN THE SMOKE

                   SADNESS IN THE SMOKE


 Flames In the darkness, flames of fright, run, run Into the night,


     Men of fear, men who fight through the night, a fire fight.


   Sadness and pain as the heat and smoke devour natures beauty,


   Who's to blame for this destruction placed upon all good men.?


 They run, they hide but where to hide, animals,' creatures of all kind,


            Death comes to visit, too take away the Innocent without feeling or care.


  Fix your eyes to the tears' from those whom see the land die and die,


  Look to the sky, watch as It rises, a picture of sadness In the smoke.


    The wind will blow but there will be no trees for It to pass through,


          The grass you will not see, the animals' are gone.


           Some men do not stand anymore, they disappear with this tragedy,


   That must be forever remembered, some day we will learn to love


                   This land that was created.


  Sadness In the smoke above these hills' that burn for the world to see,


     Eyes must be opened before It's to late, before this land goes away.


                                                 Keith Garrett