IS LIFE A BOARD GAME?

Pieces on a square board, who goes first,

Pick a card from the deck, is it a good one.?

Roll the dice, move four spaces ahead,

Will you land on something that puts you backwards again.?

Go straight to jail, lose a turn,

You owe some money, what have you learned.?

Own two houses, lose them both,

The pot of money is yours, you owe more than you own.

Lose a turn, start over again,

Take a chance, is it only a game.?

You might reach the finish line, what have you won,?

In the end, you’ll be older, let’s play it again.

Keith Garrett

IN THE DARK OF NIGHT

As the moon rises, darkness falls,

A full moon so bright, what’s out there in the night.

They awake, life that wanders after daylight,

In the hills, among the trees, they can see.

The wolf howls, its shadow rests in the moonlight,

Hunger in its thoughts, searches in the dark.

An owl can fly, it sits in a tree,

Keeps watch from up high, everywhere nature is alive.

The coyote marches on, preying on what is not strong,

There’s a battle for survival, this circle of life.

In the dark of night, they work until dawns early light,

That which hunts, the strong will survive, in the dark of night.

Keith Garrett

IS IT POSSIBLE TO?

If a love goes away will she come back another day,

Is this possible, what might this person say.?

For myself to get back in control, what do I need,?

Nothing really, just thinking logically.

Is it possible to forget things I’ve learned,?

No, not really, only putting them aside for moments

Of ignorance or stupidity.

To be happy is possible this I know,

Look around you, life is good, don’t miss out.

All things are possible with just a little prayer,

And not giving up.

Keith Garrett

IS CONTAGIOUS A SMILE?

Walk up and down the street, see their faces of grief,

So many expressions of life and what the day brings.

Wondering at times as passing them by, I can try,

To catch their eyes staring back, I give a smile.

Some give nothing back as they stroll quickly along,

Is contagious a smile, passed on from person to person,

If so, to the world let this be forever known.

Keith Garrett

INVISIBLE MOMENTS

Not to be seen, noticed among the crowded streets,

Too walk a chosen road, dreaming and not seen.

Just a little time to be left alone, on my own,

Not a sound I’ll make or attention I’ll create.

Invisible moments, there will be no picture or scene,

No description of a man, all around me will be.

At times not to be before these eyes anything,

Not an unwanted sound, nothing all around.

The soul needs moments of peace, a slower pace,

Escape from the fast pace of the human race.

Invisible moments, quiet times under a forgotten tree,

In an empty field of grass, I’m not known to be.

Keith Garrett

INSIDE THE DOORS

From the middle sixties, the doors were made,

Four long haired boys from Venice would show the way they could play.

The voice of this band with a moaning pain to his sound,

Was a genius as he sang the poetry that came from within.

A noise that groans from the instrument that he played,

The group’s guitarist, still here today.

Great on the Organ, he played with a wail,

Back from a time when music was wild,

Ray Manzarek in heaven, back together with Jim.

Steady on the drums with a beat that goes on,

Their drummer was he, not yet has he gone.

Roaring out his songs with the magic of their music,

Dance on fire, break on through is what this man would say to you.

He sang his poetry with an unknown rage,

Intense and highly emotional is the impression he made.

A place once visited by this poet some use to know,

Many years from here, the Whiskey- a Go-Go.

I won’t be around forever he would say,

Jim left the planet on a warm Summer day.

Jim Morrison, Robby Krieger, Ray Manzarek, John Densmore.

By Keith Garrett

INSIDE MY PAINTING

I’m finished, this is my masterpiece as seen through my eyes,

I’ve created many scenes between those dreams inside me.

Step inside my painting to a world of hopes and dreams,

Colors beautiful, whatever is your choice, a favorite one indeed.

Inside my painting live scenes of forests and woods of fantasy,

Lakes and rivers filled with water where swimming and drinking are safe.

Painted are places of love and happiness that have slowly disappeared,

Inside my painting, you’ll find hills to climb, get lost in your own mind.

Can you imagine mountains standing so tall without a layer of dirt above,

Not in my painting will you ever find this, stay as long as you like.

With a brush in my hand, the world is mine to mold and create a better place,

Close these tired, everyday eyes and go away to a painted land and sky.

Keith Garrett

INSIDE MY BOOK

A life of thoughts lay in words beyond this cover,

Places I have seen or dreamed are remembered here.

Imagination, fantastic stories created from this mind,

So many places visited, each day a scene made up or recalled.

Inside my book are worlds not seen but for me dreamed,

There are those special lands where I once stood as a child.

Inside my book, there are things revealed about love and pain,

Friends thought of whom are between these pages, not seen.

That who I am rests here behind a cover, on paper saved,

My creation of emotion, fantasy, and dreams shared always.

Keith Garrett

INNOCENCE OF THE CHILD

Laying down, first moments of life, the child smiles,

Magic to their eyes as the mobile turns round and round.

Everything that is seen full of wonder and the beginning dreams,

That ride in the stroller, a voyage beyond the yard world known.

Stories told from a colorful picture book, wow! is this all real,?

Butterflies of beauty float outside our window, fly butterfly.

Cartoons are not a fantasy, they are not pretend to the child,

A shiny coin, hidden treasure, a box of crackerjacks holds a prize.

Life is forever to the innocent child, never, never land is out there,

The innocence of a child lives a short span in a world of reality.

Keith Garrett

INDIAN BRAVE

From ancestors, traditions handed down,

Taught by a father, lessons from a chief.

Their way was not the white mans’ way,

Born on the land, that which was precious.

That which was sacred, heart of the Indian,

Fought for that which was believed in.

They hunted for food, they did not waste,

Used the land to survive all the days.

An Indian brave, a warrior man,

Afraid not of death, fore another life they will have.

Keith Garrett