MY FIGHT

                   MY FIGHT


 I sit at night and realize the fight,

 For which I have In my sight.

 To have my children at my side,

 I will have to sacrifice each day and night.

 If I am to win my fight,

 I will have to make things' right.

 Why Is It that I sit at night,

 To think about the fight In sight?

 I wish that I could sleep at night,

 Instead of thinking about my fight.

 When I think about my children tonight,

 Then I know my fight Is right.

 When my children are at my side,

 Then It's time to end my fight.

      For my children,

 Sean Christopher Garrett 7 yrs.
 Scott Ryan Garrett       4 yrs.
 Sarah Renee Garrett      2 yrs.


 I love you, Dad

                                                                                         
   Keith Garrett      1998

JONATHAN

                                                                                   
                  "JONATHAN"

 Jealousy for a young girl would soon turn 
 To grief,
 Wishing selfishly that her newborn brother 
 Would never be.
 Through coincidence and reasons only God knows, 
 A brother dies,
 Believing in her heart and mind that her bad
 Thoughts are to blame,
 She travels far, high upon a mountain where closer
 To god she might be.
 Tired, so very tired as she lays herself down upon 
 The mountain ground,
 Before she sleeps, a prayer she makes to God for  
 Her brother's life in place of her own. 
 When the morning light shines this child awakes  
  Covered in warmth and a man with a smile,
 Where did he come from as he asks how she slept 
 And a bowl of hot porridge offered to her.
 He asks of her journey there, he is a most unusual 
 Sort of man who appears to possess much wisdom,
 She speaks of her conversation with God as he listens  
 With a look of great understanding.
 "What is your name she asks" I am Jonathan! this is  
 My mountain and you are far from home,                              
 I wanted to be as high as possible so that God would  
 Hear me when I said I was sorry.
 Listen child! It's not your fault, he has made   
 His decision, your brother with him, you with your
 Family,
 Was this a miracle that a father found his daughter   
 high on a mountain, was he shown the way,
 Where was Jonathan, was he an angel?  she shared  
 time with him, never again was he seen.


           Keith Garrett                                

NO THOUGHTS TODAY

                                                                                                 
                 NO THOUGHTS TODAY



 Not a poem do I write this day, not a thought 
 To display,


 I have not much to say, written words are few, 
 What can I say.


 My mind seems a bit tired, weary am I from a few 
 Years of war,


 I'm thinking but all is scrambled, trying too hard 
 Is a tiring job.


 Some projects, working in the yard will be of 
 Peace as I wonder,


 I'm sure that I will come back here and visit 
 As the day moves on.


 No thoughts today as I set my mind at ease, 
 Disappear into a quiet place,


 I need to breathe easy and take myself away but 
 I will return soon.


 No thoughts today, as you may read, I have 
 Not much to say.

               Keith Garrett

IN A WESTERN TOWN

                                                                                    
             IN A WESTERN TOWN

 Walk these streets, sidewalks of wood,


 Where men wear boots, hats, and guns.


 Women wear dresses of an earlier time,


 Some of morals, others work men for a dime.


 A sheriff, a deputy, to keep peace and order,


 Jail is for those who can't follow the law.


 A school house, a church, places of good,


 Children learn lessons, a house of God.


 A saloon is a place of drink and games,


 A piano heard, upstairs, women of the night.


 In a western town there are many things,


 A stable for horses, a gunfight to end one's day,


 Once upon a time in a western town.

              Keith Garrett

IN A DREAM

                 IN A DREAM


 I saw you wandering in a dream,


 In the dark, quiet as you searched.


 Not a word spoken from your lips,


 What do you seek haunted one?


 I can't find my way back home as each night
 I roam,

 It is you who see me wandering in a dream.


 What do you search for asking one, 


 You are the dreamer who saw me wandering.


 Now tell me wanderer, who is the dreamer and who's 
 In the dream,

 Is it only I and are you the dream.


 You call me the haunted one but who is the haunted,


 Not a word from my lips but you are the sleeping 
 One.

 What is it that you seek, why can't you find your 
 Own way home,

 I do not know as sometimes i am in the dark and quiet.


               Keith Garrett

IN THE COURSE OF A LIFETIME

         IN THE COURSE OF A LIFETIME


 Born we are, each of us with a purpose unless 
 Altered,

 Nothing stops what we do depending on anything 
 In our way.

 We see so much with these eyes of mystery given 
 From the master,

 What about those without sight, is there a gift 
 That comes from here?

 Nothing taken for granted when you never saw 
 What You are missing,

 You now see with your heart and mind, this is 
 What challenges your time.

 We travel a thousand roads trying to choose the 
 Best way to go, we don't know,

 Decisions of intelligence, luck along the way, a 
 Prayer of hope and we may be okay,


 In the course of a lifetime, we pass each other by,     
 shake hands, laugh, and say goodbye.


                Keith Garrett

IF I WASN’T ME

             IF I WASN'T ME


 You would not know me, my face, my name a 
 Mystery,


 The voice that becomes a stranger to you, 
 Would not be known.


 Pass me by without a thought, no emotion or  
 Care, a stare,


 There would for you be no memory of me, no 
 Late night dream.


 If I wasn't me, would you wish to see, hear, 
 Or smile at me,


 Would you be in want of a kiss without pain, 
 A touch with no scare.


 Would a second thought be a possibility if I 
 Was a different me,


 If I wasn't me, would you not forget me, would 
 I still be a something?

               Keith Garrett

I DREAMED I WAS A COWBOY

             I DREAMED I WAS A COWBOY


 Dressed in jeans, a black hat and boots,


 On a horse of beautiful color, I rode.


 A ranch up high in Colorado, I dreamed,


 Working, putting up fences with cowboys.


 A long day was a good day for me,


 Up in the dark, before the roosters.


 Breakfast was early, earn your money,


 Sweat and a little fun, working in the sun.


 I dreamed I was a cowboy, riding the open land,


 The dreaming cowboy, is a hard working man.

           Keith Garrett

I AM SEVEN

                                                                                          
               I AM SEVEN


 I chase butterflies and try to get moths 
 From vines,

 Model airplanes are a hobby done with my dad.


 A vegetable garden out back, chasing the 
 Icecream man,

 Coloring books and cartoons on a Saturday  
 Morning Is fine.

 A favorite cereal, lucky charms, and Frostio's, 
 A pop tart in my mind,

 Watching the Little Rascals, the three stooges, 
 Other favorite shows.

 Toaster pizzas and a glass of milk on a T.V. tray 
 On a late summer day,

 Riding my bike, through sprinklers we ran in the 
 Sun, A day for fun.

 I am seven as I would someday remember, walking 
 In the breeze, Climbing trees,

 I go to school, walk as I dream, I am a child of 
 Ninteen sixty nine, I am me.

 I run and play at recess with special friends who 
 I will soon never see again,

 My world is different when I am seven, no worries  
 Of the future, only a child's day,

 There is a magical side to my life today, what will 
 I remember of my time in a place.

                         Keith Garrett

IN A PERFECT WORLD

                IN A PERFECT WORLD


 There would be no crime, no hurt filled minds,


 Not a broken heart, no sorrowful cries.


 No reason to say goodbye if no one went away 
 Or died,

 Trash on the ground would not be found.


 No hungry souls, no suffering for the old,


 Prejudice and hate would not look you in the eyes.


 No thought of murder, no wounds of war,


 Not a lie from a tongue that causes pain,


 Emotional scars would never be claimed.


 In a perfect world there would be no fear,


 Not a poisoned word heard from an ear,


 In a perfect world, heaven is the word.


           Keith Garrett