Keith Garrett

From yesterday is where i come from, my life is with a wife and child,

Seeking a new life and possibly a different place of settling down.

We are pioneers of the early nineteenth century traveling across

The hot desert where their is much hardship, sickness, and hunger,

There’s a chance i must take as my son is very sick with fever this day.

I say goodbye to all in our wagon train for now as i say perhaps there

Over the hill i will find help, faith walks with me as i begin my quest,

Over the hill to a different world as i pass over the top of the ridge.

Am i dreaming as these impossible things appear before my tired eyes,

The wagon train is gone, vanished into the air, this can’not be.

I see traveling machines, music, and that which can’not possibly exist,

People so different, i’m looked at so strangely as i tell of my plight.

My son is sick i say, He’s over that hill, a kind woman she was,

A bottle, something inside, these will make him better i’m told.

I must go now, I run for the hill, i climb as this world is not mine,

At the top i now see again my world and wagon train, i look back.

The world i walked into is now gone, only desert left behind, my son does not die .

I can hear the neighbors child cry, what’s going on in a house near by,

A walk with their dog do a couple that hope for peace in the clear night.

The moon so full is a light that guides those in need through the night,

Animals that come to life in the dark are seldom seen with the human eye.

In the dark of night who is it that wanders with no conscience inside,

Porch lights are everywhere warning that there are those watching tonight.

Warm air turns to cool as sitting on a bench in my yard is a beautiful thought,

In the dark of night there may be fright, happiness, or delight.

A quiet, peaceful, experience as within the dark is but a soft light,

In the dark of night there is much to discover if alone or with another.
Keith Garrett

Autumn is in the air, the days are shorter, the nights are cool, and crisp,

My name is Rachel and there is something i’d like to ask, a request really.

The end of another year is fast approaching, sundown of my life you see,

I’m still a young woman so wonder do i why god has come to call upon me.

I have not much time to reflect on a life that has not see enough beauty from my eyes,

Not much older will i be, never will i be a grandmother and sit in a rocking chair.

Grand children i will never know, young children never will i watch grow,

By the time Spring arrives it is that i will die, will i rest in heaven by gods side.

Most important for me is the fate of my children and that they understand,

They must have faith that once again we will be together in another time.

Who will take my children,? Who will love them and show them the right way,

Soon i will leave and go away, who will take my children,? who will help them

To laugh again, I need to know that they’ll be o.k., before i leave and go away.

I was born In Amesbury Massachusetts in nineteen sixty two.

A mother, father, and in time four sisters and two brothers.

We moved out here to California in nineteen sixty six i recall.

I remember living in Lawndale and going to school in kindergarten.

When i was seven in second grade on Halloween night my dad died.

He fell off of a cliff in Palos Verdes in nineteen sixty nine, i remember.

The dreaming little boy found out that life wasn’t so magical after all.

I never stopped my dreaming or gave up on dreams as i went about life.

I’ve had my share of pain and disappointments as i walked my path.

I’ve had friends and family whom have disappeared and gone away.

I have had great times and memory’s through the years, a life.

When i was In Jr. high in Yorba Linda i fell on my head in P.E.

I had my first brain surgery when i was fifteen and told that i

Might die or be in a wheel chair, neither have happened yet.

I’ve walked fifty miles when i was told it wouldn’t happen.

I have three children, two sons and a daughter, I’m alive.

I’m fifty one, started writing poetry when i was thirty five.

I have a wonderful girl friend Kim, I dare to dream. Keith Garrett

Thinking about it as merely a wondering, curious, thought,
My everyday and all that i do appears to be a life that’s true.
Whether your time here has been of happiness or just sad,
What if and just suppose that it wasn’t yours, wasn’t real.
All that you know and everything you have, are you dreaming,
What if as you are asleep your mind has made up and written a story.
Perhaps a lifetime, the friends, family members, that which you know to be,
Has no reality, that but a dream or to awake to a nightmare of screams.
Is my life a dream,? Will i awake to find that nothing is as it seemed,
Reality is not what i have seen, for what appeared to be an eternity.
What if the life you believe to be is an accident, a long coma state,
Ask yourself, is my life a dream,? what if i had a different reality.
Keith Garrett

             A boy and his dog, love between two,

           Each day he waits at the stroke of four.

       Soon they will be separated by circumstance,

  Strength and courage will be tested, a faithful friend.

       A boy cry’s in the night, a tear from a dogs eye,

 Love travels a distance to see the smile on a face that cry’s.

          Hundreds of miles traveled, across land and time,

   Across a river swam, to the other side, love in a dogs eyes.

     He’ll meet many on the way, conquer with every stride,

      Back home a boy waits, a prayer and wish in the night.

 Struggle and pain, hunger or cold will not stop mans best friend,

         Something so strong lives within this four legged friend.

                          At the stroke of four he lies in wait,

                       Love travels a distance, together again.

              Keith Garrett  

Like thunder, explosions from different sites,

Their weapons loaded, death was in their eyes.

You saw them marching in the distance my friend,

Closing in on you were those whom did not know you.

Did they leave you there alone, turn their backs and go,

Were the men with you smarter, were they pleading with you.

It should not have been this way, you were not left to die,

No sense can ever be made of this tragedy as i wonder why.

My friend, why did you not run as were coming an army of guns,

As i was told you must retreat, why did you remain and wait.

I received the news from one at my door that you were no more,

The words i heard were that you were brave and a hero,

This i would like to believe as you died needlessly.

Keith Garrett

                   He seemed to have dropped from the sky,

                   No memory or thought of an earlier time.

                             A gift he had, a gift from god,

                        The gentle giant with a loving heart.

                   Guilty of nothing but judged just the same, 

                         A healing hand, a gift with a burden.

                        His name was John, a miracle of god,

                   A sentence of death although a good man. 

                   Soon he would die, a chance to be set free,

                 The gift that he had made him tired and weak.

          But how could one of gods miracles be of any evil sort,

             His name was John, never did he do anything wrong,

                     One of gods miracles has died and gone.

           Keith Garrett

I have a home, it’s not like yours, there are no rooms,

If i am to have heat then it comes from the sun.

My bathroom rests not in one spot, it moves,

No air conditioner have i, the coolness comes from the night air.

My shower is not always working, at times i am not clean,

I have a bed, it is wherever i may lay.

My refrigerator is always empty, it’s a thing i do not own,

My sink is a bucket of water or a puddle i may find.

I own a television, it is all that i see,

It only turns off when asleep i may be.

There are no chairs, a sofa to rest upon,

My windows are the world, a roof, only what’s above me.

A yard i have extends very far,

Wherever i may be, nature is all around me.

My name is George, do not be George.

Keith Garrett

The days can be long, life is beautiful, life can be a battle,

Go to work and give all you have to the corporate plan.

The world is so fast now, keep up with the pace,

Fight it if you choose, get left in the dust.

Eyes can get blinded by events of the day,

Deafness to the ears when so much noise is heard.

Like a scary movie or a happy ending may be shown,

The way of the world is to fight and scramble till sleep

And tired takes you away.

I feel so tired and worn out on some days,

When the sun goes down and a shower feels so clean,

A hot dinner made, the lights go out and a pillow beneath my head.

Keith Garrett