AUNT PENELOPE

She could do such unusual things without much thought,

Out of bottle caps, she could make a crazy hat.

She could jump really high, almost fly,

Close her eyes and make an apple pie.

She could walk backward while tying her shoes,

Dance around a pool while reading a book.

She could play the harp without her hands,

Tell you the time in just about any land.

She could watch a movie without a sound,

Recite every line while spinning around.

Aunt Penelope was a strange one indeed,

At the age of one hundred and fifty three,

Old aunt Penelope is still but a fantasy.

Keith Garrett

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

I’ve drifted across the open sea, I wait for you to find me,

In a bottle I have been placed, a message that I am alive.

You are no longer there anymore but I let you know I exist,

A thought of what you meant to me, a thought of what I once meant.

If my message gets to you yet then again how can this possibly be,

You are a memory from yesterday, I am a thought that sails the sea.

Time does not stop, It has no sympathy, it makes what is what was,

Life and all that’s within it is reduced to memories, things of yesterday.

Message in a bottle is what I am, If you find me take me for what I am,

You are forever now, I am something that will one day fade away.

Keith Garrett

FINDING FREEDOM

The search for freedom and a fight to keep it,

After thousands of years more is taken away today.

It’s all up for sale, we can barely walk in the hills anymore,

Dirt, water, and even air are not ours without a dollar.

We are not as free as we believe, we are allowed to do as they say,

All wars are not about freedom, most are of corruption and money.

Finding freedom when so much has changed is becoming rare,

We are losing it from every direction, before our eyes, and behind our backs.

The enemy appears to be us, look to our neighbor more than across the sea,

Look around people, we are losing our rights, finding freedom between what is seen.

Keith Garrett

THE RAGING BATTLE

How can this be, is war actually a necessity, is reality,

Whom are these souls who sit around plotting, thinking?

Ridiculous is a word I will use to describe senseless acts,

The battle is planned for many reasons, not always right.

There are those who do volunteer for these deadly missions,

Many have perished throughout time from wars created.

Armed forces are everywhere, are they protecting or attacking,

They serve but do they really know why, what are the lies?

These brave men and women go in with faith and courage,

Never are they told the entire truth as they run for cover.

They join and serve for reasons of their own, it is their stand,

The raging battle continues for as long as man shows greed and exists.

Keith Garrett

THE OLD WOMAN AND THE SERPENT

She lived near the shore of a beautiful lake surrounded by hills,

Her small house was nicely built many years before, she was young.

Once married as now this old woman is mostly alone in her happy home,

She is known as a scary, mean, old woman who by rumors would eat children.

In this massive and peaceful lake lived a giant serpent that wanders the water,

Scared by those who have never seen before but the stories have grown with years.

Where it came from is but a mystery, it has lived here for years, once young as today old,

The old woman and the serpent have much in common as they have shared this place.

Never have they know each other but only of one another as they kept the peace for years,

One late afternoon as the sun was setting and the old woman was gathering wood for fire,

The serpent came upon the shore, speaking in such a manner his words to her were this.

I thought you were mean and scary just as all the rest do, you are an old woman of peace,

The old woman replied back, just as I was afraid of you, a terrible old serpent that kills.

The day arrived when the townspeople came to torment the old woman and destroy the serpent,

The serpent spoke, she is but an old woman of kindness, a life lived has she, leave her now in peace,

In return the old woman replied, leave this aging serpent to wander the water, together we are free.

Keith Garrett

THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD

More than forty years ago out there among some hills sat a town.

Already quite old but new to another generation brought together.

It was a place where as kids we could run in the fields, explore the hills.

I remember an old stagecoach laid over in a ditch, why was it there.

Those hills were beautiful and a great place for many adventures I recall.

Now most of them are gone or disappearing with years of man’s destruction.

I will say that I have walked or passed through every street in my time there.

The old neighborhood is now much older as I have walked where once walked,

stood in spots where as a boy once stood, shadows are now larger from trees

that were so many years ago young and now much bigger and older I see.

Watching streets form that were not there, houses rising from the ground

that never were there, now more than forty years have passed as they have aged.

Ghostly images remain of friends who did ride skateboards, talk at school,

Hang out at a doughnut shop that has vanished just as those special friends have

wandered into the future where today they rest scattered across many lands.

I remember when streets didn’t go through, when Boone’s Farm wine was cool.

7- Eleven, triple scoop for fifteen cents and pinball machines, streets of Yorba

were indeed a dream, the old neighborhood and all of you from back then.

If you’re still out there, somewhere around, let your voice be heard,

make a sound, the old neighborhood, my thoughts from a kid in a Yorba Linda town.

Keith Garrett

THE HEAT OF THE DAY

A summer’s day, hot and humid is hard to take,

I’d rather be under a shaded tree than beneath

The staring sun one hundred degrees.

If only along would come a cool forgotten breeze,

A pool of water to drop into would be the wanting for me.

Close my eyes and I picture the waves moving across the ocean so free,

The wind catches me as the refreshing splash of water drenches me.

Walking along the wet shore, water at my knees,

In the heat of the day, this is what I dream.

Keith Garrett

SOME KIND OF MAN

Running from or always chasing, that is this kind of man,

Looking over his shoulder is a way of life, trusting no one.

He carries a gun, on the wrong side of the law, this chosen life,

His morals are close to none, a killer for a price, anyone.

Some regret comes from his eyes as he won’t turn back now,

What can turn a soul black, a heart of stone with no compassion?

Some kind of man who will take away a life without thought,

Cold eyes, somewhere in life he became very lost.

Keith Garrett

SILENT WITH WORDS

Their voices can not be heard, speak without sound,

From their minds, words do form, communicate with signs.

Much to say in different ways as they plan their days,

Silent with words that can be heard, they reach out to the world.

Living in a silent land but they hear all that we have to say,

They are silent with words, listen and they shall be heard.

Keith Garrett

TALE OF AN OUTLAW

Sit back and listen as I tell you this tale of an outlaw,

As a child, his future was uncertain as both mother and father were killed.

Hungry with no one to turn too he begged for food,

Slept wherever might be shelter, survived as a thief.

As he grew he then met those who lived as he lived,

Without skills of his own, he set out on a stolen horse.

He now was a thief and an outlaw, listen further,

With a gun, he did not own he now robbed from those who did not steal.

Finally, he faced one who did not wish to give,

Murder was now his ultimate crime.

Hunted down by a sheriff and a posse, he was then caught,

Because he could not travel a road of good,

He now layed in the dirty street, dead.

Keith Garrett