WHEN SHE’S NOT THERE

When she’s not there I sit quietly alone in my chair,

A drink in my hand, roamin’ ’round my home.

Turn the t.v. on, nothin’ much to watch,

Open the refrigerator door, stare a little more.

Dishes in the sink, wash em’ while I think,

Go n’ take a shower, soap n’ a little water.

When she’s not there, I think I can hear her everywhere,

Talkin’ on the phone, singin’ a country song.

Whistlin’ for the birds, sayin’ a bunch of words,

When she’s not there, I work out n’ the yard,

I sometimes look ’round, she’s nowhere to be found.

I put the laundry in, the sun is slowly goin’ down,

She usually makes me a drink, my woman’s nowhere ’round.

It’s gettin’ kinda’ late, no dinner on the stove,

I don’t appreciate when she’s not at home.

When it’s time for bed, when she’s not there,

I sleep all alone, where did that woman go.

Keith Garrett

WHEN I WRITE

Close your eyes and see If a picture comes to mind,

A thought about something seen out in the world.

Could It be possibly a scent In the air that holds a memory,

Tasting a favorite food that reminds one of a place in time.

When I write there are many possibilities that come to life,

I might just close my eyes for a moment and breathe.

A title appears In my mind, words from feelings arrive,

Inspiration comes from different things that are explored.

When I write day or night the world belongs to me,

Whatever I write when I write Is share for you to read.

Keith Garrett

WHAT’S WITHIN MYSELF

I’m beginning to understand and to see,

The good that is inside this person that’s me.

There are many things about which I care,

About where I’m headed in a land of uncertainty.

Within me lies a man of strength,

Just a moment of weakness has taken from me.

A smile lives beneath, sometimes far down,

On the surface pain hidden behind the act of a clown.

What’s within myself a small boy trying to find,

A man who may survive in today’s state of mind.

What’s within myself is a hope for a better tomorrow.

Keith Garrett

WHAT’S OUT THERE?

Take a look up in the air, beyond the clouds, high above the blue,

If you can’t see that far then put to use your great Imagination.

What’s out there where we have never been, never seen or dreamed,

The moon stands out in the sky, the sun taken for granted as we assume it will be there.

With the naked eye Venus and Mars are seen every clear, beautiful night,

Every so often the night shows us a shooting star traveling across the universe.

There are many mysterious and unknown things not yet discovered through the cosmos,

Comets we can’ not put a number to or even imagine how far away they soar in the darkness.

Why is it that the sun lights up our days with warmth but gives no light to a spectacular sight,

We can only breathe the air up so high, beyond that tell me why the air of life is nowhere to be found.

Billions of stars appear to rest right before our searching eyes in the night, touch we can not,

How far if we traveled would these things be seen, would we live so long to even dream.

What’s out there? in how many directions may we go to find all the answers to be known,

Will the universe continue forever, will we learn all as we travel one day to heaven.

Keith Garrett

WHAT SCREWS UP A MIND

Marijuana is smoked in a joint or pipe,

The feeling it gives is hard to describe.

Cocaine taken through a straw up your nose,

Speed or crack will take over your life.

Heroin with a needle, shot in the arm,

Destroy what’s inside, take away your life.

What screws up a mind is slow suicide,

Acid and pills, how can you survive.

What screws up a mind is a weakness

That one cannot hide,

Running from reality, how long can you stay alive.

Keith Garrett

WHAT LIVES IN A POEM?

A poem is beautiful, It can be anything that you wish it to be,

What lives in a poem,? Imagination of the wondering mind.

It can take you away, a vacation of choice to anywhere out there,

A dream that lives inside, written words that greatly describe.

What lives in a poem are the memories you carry around always,

Sad happenings of realistic times, happy, wonderful things that define.

Your thoughts and all that makes you whom you are,

To write, to make that what lives in a poem come alive.

What lives in a poem can be any place you want to be,

You can go anywhere, write a fantasy life or live in a dream.

What lives in a poem is the real you and all that you see.

Keith Garrett

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RAIN?

Has anybody seen the rain,? it went away on a trip to where,

Lost is it, I hear it’s been seen roaming the sky over far off lands.

Why doesn’t it like to visit here anymore, it’s been such awhile,

I remember how the clouds would gather each time and get ready.

You could smell it in the air, the winds would change, lightning and thunder,

When it began to fall I would turn my face to the sky and let it drop upon my face.

It use to be a friend and water all the beautiful plants until it went away,

Now the land is in trouble as it begins to dry up, will it crumble and turn to dust.?

Will the plants and shrubs turn to brown removing their color as they slowly die,

When will the people feel the thirst as the precious water taken for granted

Is no longer there, what happened to the rain, will it ever return again.?

Keith Garrett

WHAT DOES THE LAND FEEL

We walk this earth each and every one of us, make use of its energy and life,

Once upon a time the world began and slowly many different plants formed.

Trees began to grow, tall with many leaves, what was needed to survive was here,

Times have changed just as man has also changed always learning to adapt to this world.

What does the land feel, do the mountains cry as the cut down trees crash and die,

What do the hills feel as they burn, is there much pain as the fire crosses the plains.?

Does the desert ever laugh through the cold nights and the long heated days,

Do the rivers feel peace as for centuries they have been traveled upon, they change but don’t go away.

Does the ocean smile because it’s free to move about or does it scream as it’s treated without respect,

Are the lakes everywhere filled with happiness or do they weep as toxic waste are dumped with no thought.

What does the land feel as over the years it gives the gifts to survive and in return destroyed without care,

Listen to the sadness of its cries, how long will it be till it says a farewell goodbye.

Keith Garrett

WHAT DOES A WISE MAN DO?

A wise man puts aside his anger before he drifts off to sleep,

A thinker before an act brings much trouble Into his life.

A wise man never bows down to the pressure from his peers,

He must trust In his heart fore his actions are his to answer alone.

A wise man has angry thoughts that hold no consequences from Inside,

If at all they switch to violence then a wise man has no words to be listened to,

What does a wise man do,? He practices In that which he does In fact preach,

He Is not a hypocrite, he Is calm and speaks his words carefully, a wise man Indeed.

He knows that words of stupidity are not a problem behind closed doors,

What does a wise man do,? he thinks before he does anything at all.

Keith Garrett

WESTERN WORLD

What was It like many generations ago exploring a new frontier,

Starting a life where everything was so uncertain and dangerous.

Indians and bandits roaming the land trying to everyday survive,

The Indians living off the land, bandits taking all they can.

Building towns where a man or family can start a business for themselves,

Settling outside this town you choose to live and start a family of love.

You’ll have to rough It for a while longer as you have for so long now,

Waking to the morning light, at times cold as a hot cup of coffee will do.

Working hard from sunup till sundown with a dream In your heart,

A cabin with a fireplace, rooms built for comfort, a roof over your head.

The old west was more than a saloon with gambling, drinking, and gunfights,

It was about survival, discovery of new places, and things accomplished back In a time.

Hardship and disease, many died, gave their lives for a better life, triumph and sorrow,

These people from the past paved the way for dreams and success here In our today.

The pioneers had more struggles than can be Imagined but also had to be tough and strong,

The old West Is no longer alive but they did leave their mark, a path across the wilderness.

They survive and live In those today whom overcome and succeed, worked through their pain,

The Western world has changed but the blood and souls from the past are burried, their spirits

May be among us In ways as they are also surely gone off beyond this world where peace Is theirs.

Keith Garrett