EVERYONE HAS A STORY

Before our first breath of life, our first day recognized,

A book, blank on the inside, pages not yet written.

The cover plain without scene or color, our story begins,

This is our book until the last page written, everyone has a story.

We begin with that which we first see, pictures created,

We have the choice to write this ourselves or be written about.

Live our lives through our own eyes, walk and dream, page by page,

We will learn and experience many things as we travel our chosen path.

There will be times when a road taken is not the one we might desire,

We will come across every emotion created and attempt to deal with it.

Everyone has a story to write, write it yourself until the last page,

When it’s time to put that pen down, rest your weary head.

Keith Garrett

EVERYTHING COMES WITH A PRICE

Not only do we pay to live In every way but also with what we say,

To eat, have water, we must pay with a coin, a dollar hard earned.

The air we breathe, even dirt has a price on It, once something free,

Today, the time has come when nothing Is free, greed, pay or have nothing.

Love has Its own special price, much work and sacrifice Is most needed,

It too can be lost If not a daily concern, friendship has value, don’t take for granted.

When doing the right thing then there Is also a price to be paid In another way,

Standing up for that which we believe In, too speaking out loud has a big price.

Marching against, protesting, going against the law, right or wrong has Its price,

Everything comes with a price, growing old If ever so lucky comes with a trade,

One day we give our lives to god, the thanks for a life, with our souls we pay.

Keith Garrett

EVERYTHING IS ON ITS WAY

TO SOMEWHERE

We’re all connected from the beginning of time,

No matter where we are or where we are headed.

From the first sign of DNA, we have a link to each other,

It has been discovered that in some way we are all related.

Everything is on its way to somewhere while the earth keeps spinning,

Think about it, a bite of an apple eaten and swallowed, an ongoing voyage.

From a tree planted from seed, it then grows with time as the apple forms,

The flowing river makes its way to the ocean while the ocean carry’s it away.

Everything is in constant movement or aging as it makes its journey to other places,

The wind, the falling leaves continue on even though things disappear they are never gone.

Everything is on its way to somewhere, living or not, to somewhere, constant energy.

EMOTIONS FROM THE WIND

Listen to it on a stormy night, screams with an angry fright,

Does it cry out after as disaster strikes, invisible tears?

Can you hear the laughter from it blowing on a Spring day,

Is in it sadness as always must it go away, does the wind feel.

Emotions from the wind, a thought, and fantasy from within,

We must dream and believe that possibilities are ours to be.

Keith Garrett

EMOTION IN HAND

Pain in the mind is a heartfelt thing,

Many sorrows to a soul it brings.

The hurt of a love lost is an experience not wanted,

Emotional trauma to ones mind like being haunted.

When transformed into a physical agony now a loss of control,

Brings a weakness of sorts to a man who is strong.

To let thoughts of your feelings take you to a place of self destruction,

Is such a sad disappointment to those whom love and count on you.

From the mind to the heart to the hand that breaks,

Emotional and physical pain must not touch.

Keith Garrett

ECHOES

Stand on top of the mountain, scream out and listen,

Your voice can be heard what seems to be around the world.

There are echoes in the wind from centuries ago,

Across many deserts, the winds hold echoes in the dark of night.

How long the oceans have traveled, do you hear the echoes of ships,

Across the waters they traveled, many echoes of the stories told.

Echoes of war, echoes of songs sung throughout time, those that remind,

Echoes that haunt the mind, sounds that last a mans lifetime.

Keith Garrett

ECHOES FROM THE MOUNTAIN

From long ago, generation to generation stories told,

Fables and tales passed on, changing as they grow.

Beyond many Winters and long Summers, songs In the wind,

The lives of families whispered throughout a mountains time.

How long this mountain has stood can never be realized with eyes,

Echoes from the mountain, stories that drift with the passing sky.

The blowing wind, how many times has It passed across the mountain top,

What words speak from the wind, how many has the wind touched or moved.

Echoes from the mountain, voices of those who have forever passed through.

Keith Garrett

GOMERO CIRCLE

For my family this street did once exist, It’s there each day,

We were all just young children, run all day and play.

We left It behind, most of It lost from our minds,

A street with a name, each house had a friend that went away.

When does a street become a family, together we share and disappear,

I remember a friend, Michael John, where have you been?

Nine was I as you were only seven, We ran and played In the Summer sun,

Amber was a fine, little dog, You were my friend from a long time ago.

Gomero Circle was a part of our lives, a girl named Robin, Marcy, and Tony,

Running down the street, mud and water touched our small feet.

Nineteen seventy one, so much fun laughing, remember a childhood that’s done,

We thought It was our own as today there are new lives that do roam.

Keith Garrett

ECHOES AND SHADOWS

When the wind blows there are echoes in time,

Echoes of all that have passed on by.

The sounds of a lifetime, listen as the children have grown,

Echoes of voices lost with the emptying hourglass.

There are the echoes of those whom once lived,

Laughter of young ones, now part of the wind.

Shadows of the seasons, one by one gone,

Shadows remembered of a man standing in the sun.

Shadows of trees that stood tall in the sky,

Across mountain tops, shadows from morning till night.

Echoes and shadows from the beginning of time,

Time passed by, seen from many eyes.

Keith Garrett

EACH DAY, A GIFT

Awake In the morning to the rising sun,

To bed at night like a promise that It’s forever.

All things’ that we do or see or expect each day,

Are a temporary experience In this world to be.

Imagine one day no more will we exist,

Life down here will continue, by some, we shall be missed.

Our spirits’ will move on to some other plane,

Take comfort knowing that we’ll be joined by loved’ ones

On another new day.

Each day, a gift handed down to us from above,

Never knowing how many till we awake no more.

Keith Garrett