THERE IS SOMETHING IN THE WIND

 It’s October, I wait and wonder not if but when it will come,

Over a century ago something evil and disturbing happened,

A storm appeared and with it an unusual, foul smelling, wind.

In the end it took with it neighbors, family, and strangers,

It has been one hundred years since that nightmarish night.

I know something bad is coming, it’s October now, no one believes,

The air is changing, you can’t stop what will happen, stay away

From the wind.

There is something in the wind, tomorrow morning there will be

Not a soul left.

Keith Garrett

                                           THE PINK LADY

It’s been many years since I was there, a cemetery,

Out there in the dark of night, Yorba Linda the place.

Who was she, does anyone know of her name, a lady,

Mystery or made-up stories that grew with the years.

This legend, the pink lady lives in the night, a vision,

Does she haunt this place for reasons only few know?

I remember going out there with my brother and friends,

Wondering, thoughts that she was real, at one time.

Now a spirit wandering the darkness of an older Yorba Linda,

Called “the pink lady” Who once may have known her?

What kind of life did she have, who gave her the name,

Will she be there on Halloween, could she be there tonight?

Keith Garrett

                             WHAT’S INSIDE THE CLOSET

What was that! a noise from the background during the day,

I passed it off as nothing and went about my work in the yard.

The window was open to the bedroom, some kind of rustling,

It was probably nothing but I had to go inside and find out.

When I opened the door there was nothing to see nothing to be,

I wondered as I closed the door, were there eyes looking at me?

My mind was getting the better of me, nothing could be,

Later that day when I went inside to change I found the door open.

Could there be, what’s inside the closet that’s beginning to scare me?

Again I closed that door, I went to eat, Sitting there I swear there was 

A whisper,

I closed my eyes for a bit, falling asleep within what I saw as a dream state,

Awoke did I in a hurry as my mind saw something horrifying, a nightmare?

I went off to bed, looking towards the closet fear ran through me, 

The door was open,

Am I losing my mind, is something there, tell me please! what’s 

Inside the closet!

Keith Garrett

He’s coming back, each year during the Fall, he awakens,

Travels here from someplace far away, a demon is he.

Wings opened wide from side to side, feet, and hands like claws,

A face of fear, eyes wide open, and bright red, teeth ready to eat.

He wears a disguise of black coat and a hat that covers his face,

Silent through the night, he lives in the cornfield, he waits.

Watches in silence, those bright red eyes moving from side to side,

Tonight there are two who wander through the cornfield for home.

They see a scarecrow, curious as they approach this strange sight,

Horror on their faces, through their hearts and minds, fear races.

His hat is raised and his face shown to them, hands and feet exposed,

Try to run do these two, he swoops upon them flying high into the night,

Wings spread wide, with his prey disappears, back by morning’s light.

Keith Garrett

It was on a night just like this back when I was a child,

In bed I lay, on a cold, Fall night, Halloween I recall.

A sound came to my ears, trick or treating was a done thing,

I was half-asleep as I approached my bedroom window.

When I saw him my body felt like it hit the floor, what a face,

Fear like no other came quickly as I thought this a nightmare.

His face was dark, eyes blank, and a hint of a smirk that brought chills,

With his face pressed against the window, then walked away, 

Until this day.

I never told anyone about him, I’m not sure why, maybe the fear

That I carry,

When I saw him I never forgot him, why so many years later

I am scared.

I know he is back, I feel him near, I need to know for sure 

As slowly I move,

Face to face once again, why is it me, with a smirk on his face,

Takes my sanity away.

Keith Garrett

                      WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY BLAKE?

He drove to the mountains, to Stoney Woods,

He wanted to run, to get away from his life.

To a big house where he would not be bothered

Or found by the outside world,

Stormy weather was approaching as he headed

Up the mountain.

If he hurried then he could make it before it hit.

Alone he would be as he pulled up to this big house

That stood all alone among tall trees.

He got his things and went inside where dusty 

Furniture sat in the dark.

It was cold but there was a big, old, fireplace.

Harry gathered some wood and started a nice

Fire that kept this creepy place lit for the night.

Harry didn’t know it but someone or something

Was there, watching.

Alone on the 31st of October, Halloween in Stoney Woods.

It was late, the fire fading, sleep took him away.

At morning’s light, Harry was gone, where did he go?

On October 31st every year, a fire burns in a dark house.

Up on a mountain in Stoney Woods, you can hear the echoing 

Voice of Harry Blake, never seen again.

      Keith Garrett

                                  DREAM WORLD

In the light, I saw them, a sky of orange floating,

An army of apemen dressed in full armor above,

On a hill, they stood, spread out far and wide.

Suddenly, music echoed from the sky, an eerie sound,

I recognized the tune from an English band listened too.

My sleeping eyes saw them with many faces of fear,

Guns in hands turned before these eyes into electric guitars,

Watching apelike men come together as a band in a dream world land.

Keith Garrett

                                   SHADOWS OF FRIGHT

They appear as they are while I lay in my bed at night,

The light from the moon shines through my window.

Spiders crawl up and down the walls, my eyes follow,

Images of snakes on the ceiling above, slither along.

Bats with fangs their shadows I do see,

Flying on by, I have fear through the night.

Vampires with a thirst for blood are a haunting sight,

What do I see but only a silhouette of a monster.

Creatures of the night, shadows of fright,

Mummies and werewolves out on an Autumn night.

Frankenstein wanders but it’s only a shadow to me,

A vision of that which is horror you see.

A glimpse of a witch on a broom flying high,

The stroke of midnight, a shadow across the sky.

       Keith Garrett

                                                     WHO ARE YOU

It’s late October and Fall has made its presence,

The wind blows through the emptying trees, less leaves.

Evening is approaching as the sun is falling,

Walking through the park with my shadow following me.

Behind the tree, over my shoulder, It is you I see,

Fear rushes through me as you’ve been watching.

My footsteps are faster, my heart pounds like a drum,

No longer are you there, I am scared, are you for real?

Run do I for home, safe behind a locked door,

I forgot about you as I relax all alone.

You stare through my window, this I do not know,

I am not scared but soon you will change this.

The wind is loud on this thirty-first, of October,

My eyes peek out to see the night, your face meets mine.

Horror fills my soul, Who are you! who are you!

Again you are gone as I search all around.

I drift off to sleep upstairs in my bed,

Dreaming, I can hear myself ask the words, who are you?

My eyes open in mind-numbing fear, it is you,

Who are you! the last words I hear are, do you really want to know?

Keith Garrett

                                                           DREAM STATE

I know I’m lying here alive, half-dead,

Horror and fantasy fill my head, never to stop.

I’m chased through the woods by a man with no face,

 Hatchet in his hand for all eternity.

Always a different story, pictures in my mind,

I can’t wake up, I don’t know why.

Pushed from a rooftop on a neverending fall,

About to hit the ground, monsters reach for the sky.

  Up the stairs, they walk me, I see the hangman’s noose,

Around my neck, the noose tightens as I drop with fear.

Demons that fly chase me from the sky,

Wicked sound they make as I scream in the night.

Am I in a coma or bad dreams from my bed,

Could I be in hell, am I really dead?

My dream state does not end, a living hell,

In a cage full of snakes as psychotic souls laugh with delight.

      Keith Garrett