DO MY WORDS TELL YOU A STORY?


 Writing my thoughts changes the way in which 
 I speak,

 Thinking about what I write, explaining the
 Way I feel.

 Emotions have many parts created from a lifetime,


 A story I started writing from a time when just
 A small boy.

 I say all kinds of things fore there's much to say,


 Words have become the power that moves me through 
 the day.

 If you listen closely there are messages from my lips,


 Telling you about myself, letting you know who I am.


 Do my words tell you a story or do you not read what 
 Is said?
                 Keith Garrett

                                                                                        
       DID YOU HEAR IT LAST NIGHT?



 I awoke last night to a booming sound, echoing 
 Across the sky,


 Cracking like a whip was it as I lay there listening 
 And wondering.


 Thunder, louder it became, the sound of sparks high 
 In the sky,


 Very unusual as my eyes needed to see what this 
 spectacle could be.


 Nothing could I see except the sounds ringing into 
 The dark night,


 Did you hear it last night? it came out of the sky, 
 I tell you no lies.


 Like heavy footsteps across the clouds, horses galloping
 With no sight,


 What was happening, was it something so real, was it 
 Just I who heard.


 Did you hear it last night, did it bring you fright, 
 Was it from beyond the sky.
                             Keith Garrett

                                                                                  
                PHOTO ALBUM,


 Open it up, only empty pages are before you,



 One by one, we add a picture, a scene from time,



 Frozen within pages of a book, hidden with each turn.



 It can not hold all that we see, not enough room 
 For our history,


 A photo album to pass along, share memories of 
 Life and family.


 Not a movie, piece by piece, a glimpse of an adventure 
 Of life,


 Turn the pages and find that with the passing time 
 A book filled.


 We become frozen in time, memories that we leave behind,



 Expressions shared in pictures, we close the book on 
 A simple time.

                Keith Garrett

                                                                                                    
         MIGHT GOD BE A CHILD


 Never a picture of god, thoughts of a face like ours,


 As a child, as children did we wonder or believe more,


 The Innocence of a young mind holds fantasies of many.


 Playing in a kingdom just as a child plays in the park,


 Could this place be for a mysterious boys amusement
 Or not.

 Might God be a child, Is this why we grow old and die,


 Possibly a magnificent little boy who created it all.


 When there was nothing was there a who to think there 
 Could be something,

 Might God be a child? If so then how might this soul 
 Have been created.

 How did we go from nothing to something, was God born 
 From nothing?

                 Keith Garrett

                                                                                               
             DAILY PLEASURES


 Wake to the morning, a cup of tea or coffee,


 Feeling the sun shine on a chilly, Fall morning.


 Something to eat, as again hunger visits me,


 A shower, a hug from maybe someone you love.


 Feeling good as health is a precious gift to enjoy,


 A stroll down the street, just my headphones and me.


 A breath of life from morning through the dark of night,


 Taken for granted at times, daily pleasures are so fine.


             Keith Garrett

                                                                                    
             DESPERADO


 More than one hundred years ago he lived,


 In a small village somewhere in Mexico, a boy.


 Poor was his family as each day was a struggle,


 There were those close by, the bad ones who stole 
 Everything.

 A day came when his village was destroyed, family
 Killed,

 Survived did he to one day grow to be a man.


 Revenge would be his only friend, not a bad man 
 Was he,

 With pistols at his side he would seek justice.


 They called him desperado, a no good criminal,


 He stole from them who once took everything 
 Meaningful.

 His gun did the talking, anger ate at his soul,


 He lived by campfire, ate what he shot or stole,


 Justice was one day his, his reward was always on 
 The run.
                Keith Garrett

                                                                                                   
              I LISTENED TODAY


 My day had changed, some people appeared to me,


 As I was thinking of my losses and more to lose 
 Again.

 Things become much brighter when you learn  of a 
 Worse pain,

 From a country, Guatemala is from where once they 
 Came.

 Our paths had crossed for a reason I do believe, 
 Meant to be,

 I gave them many things that were of help and worth 
 Far away.

 A man told me of life as a child in a place much 
 Different than here,

 A tortilla on the ground, brown and some green, a 
 Fight for this meal.

 He spoke of trimming away the bad and eating what 
 Was left,

 Of cheese that was molding after some days, clean 
 Away the worms, okay.

 If we would throw upon the ground our food not wanted,
 Pick up they would do,

 His story of a father who died from sickness and hunger 
 So that they could eat.

 All the clothing I gave to them would be to those over 
 There like gold or money,

 Shoes for their feet, today such a great feeling, my 
 plans had changed.

 He said to me, " If you think you're full and had 
 Enough to eat, save half

 For tomorrow, fore nothing matters more than the 
 Hunger inside,

 I listened today to a man who was once a child in a 
 sorrowful place.
                      Keith Garrett

            I'VE STOOD STRONG


 I've stood strong, Oh! so long and watched
 time pass,

 To see the sunrise, to see the sunset.


 Above me, the clouds drift past each day,


 Can't see where they go, this Is where I stay.


 In the dark of night I stand not alone,


 What keeps me company Is that which roams.


 The wind passes through me on a journey across 
 The sky,

 I'm never cold nor have I died.


 Many have visited and stayed where I stand,


 Some are now part of this land.


 I'll still be here long after you,


 I've stood strong, I'm different, this Is true.


               By Keith Garrett 

          " TIME STANDS' NOT STILL"


 A clock may stop In the middle of a day,
 Time keeps on ticking ones' life away.



 Measured by years' the number you are,
 How old will you get, will your existence go far.



 Months' are a piece of time In your life,
 As each passes by, shorter becomes your flight.



 Weeks are measured seven days' at a time,
 Fifty two as twelve months' go by.



 A day has twenty four hours' for you,
 The sun comes up and goes down too.



 hour by hour our days' will pass,
 No slowing them down so our lives will not go fast.



 What Is a minute but sixty ticks at a time,
 Second by second older we find.


              Keith Garrett

               IT'S NEVER TOO LATE


 It' s never too late to open your eyes,


 To say a thank you, too show a smile.


 It's never too late to listen with your ears,


 Of words said that are needed to be heard.


 It's never too late to be less selfish of a man,


 Or to show your love to that special one If you 
 Can.

 It's never too late to give of yourself,


 Unless there's no room for change In you and 
 That's sad.

 It's never too late to try and to do,


 Grow as a man and be strong as a rock for yourself,


 And those who love and count on you.


                                                                                      
          Keith Garrett