A HORSE CALLED STORM

Jet black, tall and strong, he stands in the morning light,

Out in the grass land roams this free spirit.

Never ridden, not a man calls him theirs,

Answers to not a soul does this horse left alone.

His name is storm, dark as the night,

Moves like lightning, sounds like thunder.

Fierce and at times mean is this beast,

Untamed by man, natural and free.

He is friends with each day, land where he runs,

A horse called storm standing in the sun.

Keith Garrett

1969

I was a child in 1969, I had not a clue of the world,

I knew of certain things, those of which I lived through.

Riding my bike and a deadly Halloween night, that’s right,

I remember all that I did as a kid, a lifetime ago and a family,

Vietnam was a reality and I was protected by my childish world.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, Clint Eastwood was the man,

Raindrops keep falling on my head, Simon and Garfunkel were grand.

Scooby Doo and all of the colorful cartoons that I knew, I think of you,

Baseball with the miracle mets, Bill Russell and the champion Celtics,

Joe Namath with his Guarantee, the Jets beat the Colts, Charles Manson and history.

The Innocence of the Brady Bunch, walk on the moon, Led Zeppelin and a tune,

1969 was the year when love and innocence was mixed with my day.

Keith Garrett

A THANK YOU DEAR LORD

It’ me again, many thoughts swirl in my head,

For this life you gave to me, I am most grateful.

I wake each morning to the rain or shine,

You’ve let me walk your worldly creation, I’m still alive.

I forget at times and also for granted take,

This life is precious, there’s much good in the world.

A thank you dear lord for the things given to me,

The wonders of this land at times are hard to see.

I’ll try to remember that fragile is man,

Speak to you soon, I keep trying to understand

And be the best I can.

Keith Garrett

A STORY TO TELL

A PIECE OF TIME

It’s been a long time, I think about being thirteen,

I just started at Bernardo Yorba JR,high, just a scared boy.

Life seemed to be changing so much from where I came from,

I moved to Yorba in nineteen seventy two, I was lost after my dad died.

Glen knoll was my first stop, then off to seventh grade where I met many friends,

Taken for granted all of these things right in front of me, we were just kids.

I think of those friends today, dreams enter my sleeping body in the dark of night,

I would like you to know that I remember you more than you know, a long time ago.

You walked through a school that I once visited years after we were far from there,

The year was two thousand fourteen, I wandered again in the land of Yorba Linda.

Neighborhoods that we knew were mostly the same, trees taller than once stood,

It was a Saturday morning when I walked with an old friend into a school much older.

We were no longer fourteen just as Bernardo Yorba had so much age to it now,

Wandering this place filled with ghosts of friends from the past, cobwebs now rest.

Lockers were no more, where all kids stood and spoke of childish stories that would end,

Standing in the center surrounded by classrooms where teachers once taught,

I was an older me remembering a boy playing sports in this place, I stood again.

Nineteen seventy five I was thirteen, coming back here it is quiet, a sound from the wind,

Looking around, echoing voices from ghosts of friends, I remember you a long ago friend.

I have been back there to Yorba several times since I was young, a neighborhood I loved,

Although it has changed over the years just like every small town anywhere you go.

The last time I visited I walked around the streets of my neighborhood, a bit older,

The outside area is too crowded, Yorba Linda Boulevard is not the same as those days.

I’m so grateful that I was able to have lived there at a time when it was quiet and peaceful,

Esperanza was a great school with the best friends I ever had, Short lived for myself.

An Injury suffered at school turned to Illness and I was suffering at school along with each day,

I missed out on a lot so I find myself traveling back in stories, I visit back in my mind.

A piece of time is what was given to us all back then. a childhood, life as teens was ours,

For myself, walking past houses of old neighbors, and friends is like seeing emty shells.

A ghost town now with tumbleweeds, the seventies were left behind, that was my time.

Keith Garrett

A DRIFTING MAN

On a road of travel without any end,

Rests his weary body wherever he can.

Sleeps in the night hidden from sight,

Days of length, the next stop is any place.

From town to town he wanders with hope,

Worry fills his head about that next meal.

Find a job and stay in one place a short while,

Friends and smiles disappear with the miles.

A drifting man sees much of the land,

Meets many faces, lonely where he stands.

A price he pays to live in such a way,

There’s a gift in seeing the world,

What’s taken away is the peace of settling in one place.

He chooses a path, he’s a wandering man,

Today he’s here, gone again.

Keith Garrett

A CHANCE TO SEE

A chance to see fore never have I been able to walk in light,

A chance to watch the sunrise as never before seen but dreamed.

A chance to see the trees sway in the wind as the wind never seen,

A chance to see the mountains that I never thought a reality.

A chance to see the clouds so big in the sky, drifting slowly by,

A chance to see the waves in the ocean, only heard through time.

A chance to walk without a cane, to be free, walk, and see,

A chance to see a smiling face that might smile back at me.

A chance to see all the things that I have always dreamed,

A chance to see what’s never been before these eyes,

A chance, a chance, to see what is in front of me.

Keith Garrett

A BIG HEART

He was a small man but only in height,

He would lose his wife as a child was born.

Lou was his name, a man so kind,

Trying to survive, taking care of his daughter.

A job was needed, treated like some kind of freak,

Turned away, desperate, he would steal for a meal.

This is not who he was, why are people so Ignorant and mean,

Confined to jail by one who did not care, a much needed favor.

A daughter in danger, this little man with a big heart was needed,

Risk his life he would, even for those whom did look down upon,

A big heart in a man who did appear to stand taller than all.

Keith Garrett

LISTEN TO THE DRUMBEAT

Thump, thump, hear the sound that makes the world go around,

Feel the pounding of its rhythm, the drum beats hard, the heart beats fast.

Listen to the drum beat that lives inside, listen to music, the drum beat cries,

Boom! boom! echoes through the sky, thunder is the drum, it beats out loud.

Wait for the rumble as the shaking earth trembles with an awesome fear,

Bang! Bang! listen as the sleeping child’s heart comes to life in the dark night.

Bombs and gunfire sing through the war beaten land, thump, thump,

The drum beats slow, the drum beats fast, a mother’s terror as her son dies.

The dancing boxer, hard hit as he is dropped to the floor, beat of his heart,

Thump, thump, boom! boom! goes his heart like the drum beat so slow.

Listen to the drum beat, to the sound of wandering feet, like a drum,

A first breath of life, a slower and slower beat of the fading , going away.

Keith Garrett

X STANDS FOR ?

Xavier is a name not to common, will you agree,

Exit sounds like an x but only a word to be.

X-ray is a picture, one that shows inside,

X marks the spot, where a treasure may be.

Extra is something more although it appears to start with x,

An x could be a wife or husband, it could be the start of xylophone.

Excellent is very good but this does not begin with x, only sounds like it,

An x is a most unusual letter, many stories are told using this,

X stands for ?, more than is probably thought of.

Keith Garrett

WITH EVERY PASSING YEAR

So many different places show you a lifetime of remembered and forgotten faces,

With every passing year it is with sadness that a family member or old friends may disappear.

Lucky are we for having those we care about and love in our lives for whatever time there is,

I have had friends from the beginning of my time, to recall them all is without possibility.

They drift from my mind but yet they may be somewhere older and still quite alive,

Wherever they are alive and possibly forgotten or carefully kept close inside, I’ve been blessed.

Some are fortunate in this life to have a friend or two whom have been with them a lifetime,

There are those friends thought of and missed very much and never seen again as we move on.

With every passing year the cycle of life continues as even a new born baby ages with each day,

The future appears constantly without fail, everyone goes away but always comes another day.

With every passing year memories drift further away into places that don’t remember whom we are,

Children play in parks where we as friends did play, did we leave a trace, we went away.

They run on school playgrounds where even teachers aren’t the same, did we leave our names,

Time marches on, something of us will always remain but who out there will ever see.

Keith Garrett