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




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



Watching the kids throwing snowballs in the cold,

Snow falling down, clapping their hands, joyful sounds.

Sleds and saucers, laughter rings through the day,

I am here as I am shown the greatest time a child may have.

Making a snowman come to life, snow angels upon the ground,

Watching their dreaming eyes wish upon a star, a lifetime ahead.

Like looking back in time when the magic was more alive, it fades,

The greatest time is watching children fly with no scars to hide.

Keith Garrett




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




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




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




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