HE WOULD BUILD AN ALTAR

Nobody believed he would survive as he lay there dying inside,

This young boy of twelve shot by an evil man with no heart.

A father with a faith so strong would never give up on a son,

His family, friends, and a town were concerned about his behavior.

He took his son to a wide open field of green grass where he might heal,

Set up camp and began to pray while his son lay motionless, staring.

He would build an altar of stone with a cross placed upon the top,

Seen for miles by travelers, talk of this altar and father would also spread.

Night was falling, the sun setting, supper was ready, and a visitor would show,

An old man with a cane would ask, let me try as the boy would not take broth.

The old man asked if he is not saved will you lose your faith,? No said the father,

The old man went behind the altar, the father followed and the old man was gone.

Nothing but distance all around, where could he have gone, the father believed,

The father now wore a beard as the next night a storm was forming, this be the night.

The old man appeared in the dark and told the father, go to the altar! now!,

Lightning struck the altar and the father fell to the ground, the night was done.

When morning came and the sun rose in the sky his family was there wondering,

The father stepped from behind the altar, a true miracle as did his son with life.

Keith Garrett

HE WAS A DOCTOR,

NOT GOD

He learned to heal as only a man can, he was human,

A woman’s husband dies, he loses faith in himself,

People he knew in a town also lose faith in a friend.

He was a doctor who did care about pain and suffering,

Angry at himself because he failed another, could not cure.

He was a doctor, not perfect in any way, not made of miracles,

He turned his back on his profession, he turned his back on himself.

He needed to figure it out, he went home, back to a simple life,

Working on his farm, away from the pain and death that ate at him.

This wasn’t who he was, down inside he was a healing man, a doctor,

What he realized, he was a doctor, not god.

Keith Garrett

HE WANTED TO BE REMEMBERED

A journey with a friend home, a journey all alone,

Last night at campsite, a time for conversation.

A little supper under the stars, light from a fire,

Unusual talk from the lips of a friend, saying something.

He wanted to leave his mark on the world, on a friend he would,

He was to go away that night, a friend by his side.

That started a friend thinking, he wanted to be remembered,

He needed to make his wife and family understand, for himself.

Afraid that he would be forgotten, so afraid, who would remember his name,

A project with his name on it, wood tables with only his Initials would be.

One hundred years later a single worn piece of furniture many would see,

His initials would be, his name never known, he wanted to be remembered.

Keith Garrett

HE WANTED TO BE ALONE

High up In the hills away from the crowded hostile world,

He lived alone, a quiet man of peace In his cabin of a home.

A fireplace and a pile of wood, always chopping to keep It warm,

He has all that he needs or wants with a roof above his head.

A man wakes to the morning light, begins his day with a cup of coffee,

A companion joins him for breakfast, a four legged friend of loyalty.

When the days are beautiful and filled with the sun they venture out,

Walking among the trees and the beauty seen high above what lives below.

He wanted to be alone In his made of wood home, he and a friend,

In the night as the crickets are the only sound, a chair, and a smoking pipe,

In a cabin on a hill lives a man mostly alone, all that Is needed, a smile and a home.

Keith Garrett

HE STOOD BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

Driving along the dusty road I could see him In the distance,

A tall figure of a man, a long way from anywhere, who Is he.

Dressed In Jeans, a bit dirty to be expected, boots, and a dark shirt,

Warm outside In the middle of the Summer for where he stood.

What are you doing out here so far from civilization I asked him,

He did not speak, would you like a lift and maybe a drink of water.?

He hesitated and then stared, a very strange sort of man standing there,

There might possibly have been something wrong as he accepted the ride without words.

We traveled along for quite a while, music playing as quiet rode along with me,

He was such a mysterious being but for some reason, I felt trust In him.

We kept driving along the road, many sights to see, I looked at him, he smiled,

Who Is this man whom doesn’t speak and stood by the side of a road In the heat?

We came to a place where In front of us stood hills stretching far beyond our reach,

He motioned for me to stop, Put his hand on my shoulder and then again smiled,

Where are you going I asked,? He pointed, got out of my car and walked away,

Turning he said the words thank you friend and was no more to be seen.

Keith Garrett

HE SITS ON HIS THRONE

Making decisions, those at the top with minds so different,

They seek more power, these ones with minds no different.

Sane or not, their thoughts and actions alter our everyday,

Presidents, Kings, rulers of land, what do these tyrants understand.

Dollar signs are the pictures in their minds, money speaks loud,

Behind closed doors, beyond phones that tell secrets to others listening.

He sits on his throne taking care of his own, what does the world have to offer,?

Since so long ago from many distant and nearby lands, they rule with dirty hands.

The world is for all to discover, not for any one man to hold with gun in hand,

He sits on his throne, could be stabbed in the back, a position all alone.

Keith Garrett

FROM THESE EYES SEEN

What do I dream, look Into my eyes, what do I see,

To you, are my eyes beautiful, what do your eyes see.

My eyes shine In the light, they’re a color of brown,

A face I wear but you do not see, you will not see me.

From these eyes seen are amazing and wonderful things’,

In my time there have been tears’ shown to you, why.

These eyes take In all that will appear before them,

Do you know me, have you seen me before.

Keith Garrett

FROM 18 UNTIL THIS DAY

Much younger was I back when the sun rose much higher in the sky,

Still but a teenager as once a thought that I might have been a man.

When I was eighteen I was going to the beach, dreaming about life ahead,

Long blonde hair and searching for that always wanted Summer tan.

The sun begins to move west and I go beyond those teen years,

I follow the sun, it looks down upon me each morning then I chase it.

I walk the road, I live my life, the sun travels further than I can run,

The more I follow then the older I seem, I have dreamed, no more eighteen.

I am older than some friends once were, older than a father gone far away,

From 18 until this day I have changed in different ways, the sun now half way.

Keith Garrett

I HOPE YOU HAD THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE

You were once a child, do you remember being a girl?

Having your tea party, a dollhouse with all you pretend.

A swing set, do you remember riding the wind? so young back then,

Think back to your Kindergarten school, lost friends and you.

You saw things a son not born would ever see, you had dreams,

There were school dances and your favorite movie stars,

Listening to songs of great singers, drive-in movies, driving in cars.

You were born with the Wizard of Oz, wandered through the fifties as a teen,

Wars were many, the sixties and a family, all the places you have seen.

A touch older but will forever live in you, a little girl from long ago scenes,

I hope you had the time of your life,

Remember who you are, a girl who dreamed, Barbara Jean.

Happy Mother’s Day

Mom,

Love Keith

FOOTSTEPS OF EXISTENCE

My feet have walked in different shoes,

I have left a mark upon the land with feet.

On sidewalks as a child, footsteps much smaller,

Imprints not seen, back in time where I dreamed.

Footsteps of existence, invisible in some ways,

What we leave of ourselves, soul and spirit of no decay.

Keith Garrett