SINGERS OF A LOST TIME

Chubby Checker had the peppermint twist,

Chuck Berry sang out Maybelline.

Jerry Lee Lewis screaming, great balls of fire,

It was Buddy Holly and Peggy Sue.

Johnny Cash, his song walk the line,

Elvis Presley belting out Jailhouse Rock.

Rick Nelson was the Travelin’ man,

The big Bopper with his Chantilly Lace.

Richie Valenz yelling out La, Bamba,
Nancy Sinatra and a tune of boots.

petula Clark going downtown,

Patsy Cline singing softly with crazy.

Janis Joplin giving a piece of my heart,

Grace Slick chasing white rabbit.

The Beatles with Hey Jude,

Pat Boone echoing out April love,

Little Richard pounding out Long Tall Sally.

Jim Morrison feeling rider on the storm,

Jimmi Hendrix In a world of purple haze.

Robert Plant on his Stairway to Heaven,

Eric Clapton, After Midnight or Wonderful tonight,

Singers of a lost time, they come to mind.

Keith Garrett

SHE TRAVELED A TRAIN

A different era, nineteenth century woman, what does she see,

On a trip far away, she’ll travel across a country never before seen.

On a locomotive made of steel, roaring and whistling down the track,

A window seat will be the perfect spot for this adventure to a new land.

The things she would see along the way would be wonderful and a bit scary,

Across the land of wilderness, what’s out there, an Indian village at peace.

Wagon trains of travelers headed for that land of hope where they might prosper,

She sees towns that once were, slowly died and moved on to where life again was.

Passed by towns that were booming with life, men and women seeking their fortune,

She passed by towns where families worked the land, came together during hard times.

So much did she see, this woman from another century, she traveled a train.

Keith Garrett

” THIS LIFE”

The sun rises to an unforgiving day, what preys’,

Sympathy has no smile, It does not walk my way.

Faces of lies speak to me, satan In their eyes,

Spirit In the sky takes a grip of my hand, strength.

This Is a mans’ land, not of pure and good,

This life, this life of mine Is an alone adventure.

Words’ pour out of their mouths’ like water so dirty,

Only sounds’ do I hear, unrecognizable to these ears.

They try so hard to take this heart, they cannot steal,

I’m reminded of the hurt they know I feel, not unreal.

This life, this life takes If It sees a smile and happiness

When It knows It’s In me.

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 whom 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 NEIGHBORS

Appeared did they to be a peaceful, also a mostly quiet couple,

Smiles on their faces as their days were filled with fun and activity.

Barbecues on weekends, sitting on the porch in the evening air,

Mowing the lawn on a Saturday, planting flowers in the garden.

They would come and go as they pleased, two different cars of color,

A hello as they passed you by walking down the street, they had names.

Laughter from their house at times even an argument or two I’ve heard,

It appears they get along very well but then nothing in life is perfect.

The neighbors are basically like everyone else, differences in all though,

I remember them well, I came home from a trip and they were gone, the neighbors.

Keith Garrett

THE EMPTY HOUSE

Behind a set of pine trees, so big and tall they are,

Where the sun shines through the branches up high.

There is a house, an empty house that’s old and weathered,

Around it are shrubs and a pond that rests for many years.

I can feel there is a story here, one to be told from long ago,

A cabin like home where once lived someone, a family gone now.

Wood so old, cracked and worn as if a hundred years ago,

Made of brick and stone, a chimney where fires for warmth were formed.

I walk the grounds where once walked a lonely man, children were born,

Echoes of a fiddle played in the early evening light, listen to laughter from a time.

The empty house has stood through time, imagine this land and what was going on,

Cobwebs where once life walked around, not a sound, the empty house, alone.

Keith Garrett

THE WRONG BOOTH

Innocently he walks in, a quiet night,

His thoughts are of the moment, he sits.

A cup of coffee as his eyes wander this place,

He is not comfortable as he watches those around.

There is little sound as he rests his weary mind,

Eyes are upon him but he will not understand why.

Approached by one he does not know, he reacts quickly,

Injured as he runs away, the wrong booth he found today.

Keith Garrett

THESE BOYS OF SUMMER

They come to play, these men of the field,

All dressed the same for this game they don’t fear.

Nine men with a number and a name on their backs,

The goal is to defend and conquer this enemy who will attack.

A crowd will gather in support of these warriors well trained,

They’ll cheer till the end of this battle of power that has its own name.

One by one, each stands at the plate,

As one lone attacker throws his weapon their way.

With a bat in his hands he defends his ground,

A crack that echoes can be heard if he strikes back

At him what was thrown from the mound.

They dive and they jump to stop what’s sent their way,

To hold back the attack of nine men here today.

These boys of Summer who fight to become,

Champions of the game to be remembered for what they have done.

Keith Garrett

SOMETHING SO STRONG

For so long now a crushing pain, out of the darkness I find my way,

The sky I see above rests over the mountain i must climb.

A glow of light finds me as I make my way up the endless giant,

There’s a faith that guides, I am not afraid fore many will stand with me.

Inside this body lives a spirit of never ending fight for survival,

Something so strong, it conquers the force of doubt in another man.

I may not reach the top but I will try, I will get there, I’ll touch the sky,

Lost was I this man of many sorrows, a change in myself is discovered.

Such a long road on my own to follow, travel it with me now and forever,

I’ve seen the mountain, I’ve climbed high with blood and pain, to the top.

Many have come to watch my flight from the morning’s light into the dark,

With me they stood strong, they helped me climb when I weakened.

Keith Garrett

Something so strong as I would not fall, their strength gave me courage,

The mountain still stands, again I will climb stronger each time.

Keith Garrett

WORLDLY GOODS

We leave it behind, go only with that which we were born,

Over a lifetime we accumulate many possessions of love.

Material belongings come and go, of use for but a moment,

Why we treasure items made by another, there is a value.

These things we use in our everyday, tools, things of help,

Material things are not what rates us as human beings although

To some it is the measure of success of a man, sad as it is.

Worldly goods are sometimes earned and at times found,

Good in a person much more precious than gold from the ground.

Keith Garrett