GOMERO CIRCLE 


 For my family this street did once exist,  
 It's there each day,


 We were all just young children, run all 
 Day and play.


 We left It behind, most of It lost from our
 Minds,


 A street with a name, each house had a friend 
 Who went away.


 When does a street become a family, together we
 Share and disappear,


 I remember a friend, Michael John, where have 
 You been?


 Nine was I as you were only seven, We ran and 
 Played in the Summer sun,


 Amber was a fine, little dog, You were my friend 
 From a long time ago.


 Gomero Circle was a part of our lives, a girl named 
 Robin, Marcy, and Tony,


 Running down the street, mud and water touched our 
 Small feet.


 Nineteen seventy one, so much fun laughing, rememeber 
 A Childhood that's done,


 We thought It was our own as today there are new lives 
 That do roam.

                 Keith Garrett

            GREEK GOD OF THE SKY


 It rests way up high, giant in the dark of night,



 So far away, when was it formed, millions of years 
 From today.


 Beyond the stars, spinning in outer space, thirteen 
 Rings around its face,


 Father of the sky, seventh planet from the sun, will 
 You ever perish and go away?



 You go by a name known to all from the beginning of man, 
 Uranus be your name,


 Quite strange as you spin forever tilted on your side,  
 A collision be the reason why.



 You orbit with others of names which have been formed so 
 Many human lifetimes ago,



 Beyond the Earth, space is a place of much mystery just  
 As You hold a mystery of your own.


                    Keith Garrett

                                                                                       
                  BROKEN GLASS


 Without any shoes, I carefully walk,


 Each step I take a chance to be cut.


 All around me, I can't see every piece,


 One is sure to find me if cautious I'm not.


 Where are my shoes, why aren't they on,


 A lot safer I'd be, less chance to be hurt.


 There's broken glass everywhere,


 Watch the way you step and you'll not be wounded.

               Keith Garrett

                                                                                        
               A SMALL HOUSE


 Along the banks of a river, is home,


 Apple trees and hills of grass live here.


 A small house for a family of people,


 Food on the table and a fire burning warm.


 Sitting on the porch, a fiddle in hand I am,


 A pipe to smoke is an evening kind of thing.


 Horses are down for the night, children in our 
 Sight,

 Nineteenth century life is quite a fight.


 A small house is all we need to believe,


 Hopes and dreams are seen as far as our eyes can 
 See.
               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 were mixed 
 With my day.

               Keith Garrett

                                                                                                                
           BE NOT HERE



                                                                                                                            Disappear, go away and leave me alone,

                                                                                 
 I don't need you anymore, you bring nothing.


 My energy is being drained, a piece taken away,

                                                                                     
 You're out there but I need you not here.

                                                                                    
 Be not here whomever you are, stay away,


 I've seen you in too many places around this 
 World.

                                                                            
 You've done much harm to me fore you are them,


 You don't have a place in my life, a disease you be.

                                                                               
 Not to be trusted, worn by you are many faces,


 Many faces you are, which might be the right one,


 Be not here and I won't have to wonder who you are.


                Keith Garrett

                                                                                                       
           ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD



 These things I might find strolling along a 
 Country road,

 From my mind I can create a day or reality 
 Along my way.

 I see the sun rising in the early morning sky, 
 My day begins,

 Dream do I of a perfect setting, fields and 
 Hills of beautiful color.

 Nothing can go wrong, not in this made up scene
 That I want it to be,

 Swim do I in a pond that appears along a country 
 Road, quiet and alone.

 There is a wind blowing through the trees, across 
 The field I feel,

 Hay stacks scattered in a country dream, a farm 
 Where i wish to be.

 Along a country road all possibilities unfold,   
 From a dream, All that can be seen.

                     Keith Garrett

                                                                                       
              AN ALWAYS CHANGING SKY



 A light shade of gray evenly covering that 
 Which lives below,

 Clouds so heavy and thick with moisture ready 
 To rain down.

 In the early evening as the sun fades many shades 
 Of color,

 After dark on a clear, stary night you can see 
 Forever high.

 Big, white, fluffy clouds of many shapes sitting 
 Still above your head,

 With the wind you'll see their shapes change and 
 Drift slowly away.

 Thunder and lightning visit a dark, stormy day, 
 The sun is there,

 Hiding beyond the blanket of nature, the sun still
 Shines without sight,

 An always changing sky, never the same throughout 
 Any given day.

 The sky is always there, it is the elements that 
 Move through and change it,
                         Keith Garrett

                                                                            
              ANOTHER TIME AND PLACE


 I write to you from yesterday, a very long 
 Time ago for you,

 Long before you were born in a town of people 
 And family.

 My family and I were up before the break of dawn, 
 Working,

 Children of  a simple time but at times not so
 Simple you see.

 Horses were a common thing just as your car is 
 In your time,

 Things of your day not dreamed up as of yet, life 
 Was hard, also fun.

 Here in yesterday there is sickness that kills many 
 As there is no medicine,

 As I sit here on my farm watching my wife and kids  
 Play, I write this to you.

 When you receive my letter it will be that I and those
 I love will be gone now,

 You will have all the things that we here have seen,
 Good and bad.

 There are beautiful things and land that will disappear 
 With time, I can see them,


 I live here in another time and place just as you do, 
 I hope this letter gets to you.                   

              Keith Garrett

                                                                                       
                  BABOON


 Baboon, poor baboon, why are you the brunt of 
 everyone's jokes,


 "You're acting like a bunch of baboons"  says the 
 Teacher to her students.


 "Quit jumping around like  a baboon"  were you 
 Born in a zoo,


 saw someone today, he was as ugly as a Baboon, 
 What a face.


 "You need to see a dentist" " you have teeth like 
 A baboon"


 Some people laugh with the sound of a Baboon, poor 
 Baboon.


 They are made fun of, they appear to be something 
 So bad,


 Perhaps misunderstood, in the jungle not so sad, 
 Maybe glad.
                     Keith Garrett