More than one hundred years ago he lived,

In a small village somewhere in Mexico, a boy.

Poor was his family as each day was a struggle,

There were those close by, the bad ones who stole everything.

A day came when his village was destroyed, family killed,

Survived did he to one day grow to be a man.

Revenge would be his only friend, not a bad man was he,

With pistols at his side, he would seek justice.

They called him desperado, a no good criminal,

He stole from them who once took everything meaningful.

His gun did the talking, anger ate at his soul,

He lived by campfire, ate what he shot or stole,

Justice was one day his, his reward was always on the run.

Keith Garrett




Take a fantastic journey into their world,

The birds so exotic watching high in the trees.

Sounds come from hidden places of darkness,

Snakes slither and hang from tree branches.

Tigers and panthers roam quietly for prey,

Monkey’s sing out as apes go their own way.

Insects fly far and wide, an Aardvark is noticed,

Baboons speak a different way, Chetah’s on the prowl.

Chimps or Cougars, Elephants so loud,

Watch for a Gorilla, a Hyena is found.

A Jaguar is seen searching the grounds,

Climbing a tree, a Koala is around.

A Leopard has spots and talks his own way,

As for the Mongoose, what does he say?

Wild dogs and Wolverines, Zebras and birds,

Jungle music is played, they all know the tune.

Keith Garrett



Rulers of many lands, they were different but greed the same,

Treasures valued beyond the real purpose of a living man.

Since the birth of man and the rising sun, war is never done,

Blood spilled with time, lies and guilt, death seems but a crime.

There are Kings who sit upon thrones of deceit and evil deeds,

I wonder If there ever was one who thought more about the common good?

The Lord of Kings Is a mysterious one, creator of all things great and kind,

Master of Earthly scenes, creator of the universe, that which men build and destroy.

Keith Garrett


As he sat down in his rocking chair he began to speak,

With a smile, he invited me to sit and went about his story.

His life as a child at the beginning of a war for Independence,

On a farm in South Carolina, he lived with a father, brothers, sisters.

He went on to tell of adventures in the Summer just before it happened,

A big house, great times with family, working the farm each day was tiring.

He must have been about ninety years old now, the war and those days long gone,

A childhood recalled, swimming in the pond with a friend or two, the night’s moon.

He told me of this war being all around them, nothing would be the same, much change,

Tears in his eyes as he described that time and place where brothers and family died.

He sits in his chair today, many years away from there, he lives in that house today,

He sits in his chair on that porch where as a child he played, he told me of his life.

Keith Garrett



It comes to life between Fall and Spring,

In the woods beneath snow covered trees,

Where leaves are blown by a chilly, cold breeze.

Above the hills, high in the snow covered mountains,

Around a frozen pond, a snow surrounded lake.

Have you seen Winter? open your mind and it’s there,

See with your Imagination, there is a reality to the season.

Keith Garrett




Visiting for only a short time each year during Winter,

A friendship not long lived but renewed time after time.

Enemy of this man of white rests in the sky up high,

Shines does the sun as temperatures rise as the season hides.

Dressed for the occasion, a hat of black, scarf, buttons and pipe,

Disappears slowly from day to day and dawn till dusk,

When a snowman says goodbye he’ll be back again in a year’s time.

Keith Garrett




It was dark, I glanced out of the window and saw him,

Tall with dark hair, a sweatshirt soaked from the falling rain.

Why was he out there, by a tree he stood watching the rainfall,?

Clouds of many, darkness was everywhere, he stood drenched.

I wasn’t going to open the door as I was curious but a little scared,

Was I mean for not showing care, He was a stranger, why was he there.?

Standing In the rain, where did he come from, what was his name,?

Good or bad, I did not care, I walked away and left him standing in the rain.

Keith Garrett