STORIES ARE TOLD


 Traditions of story telling from thousands of years,


 Around campfires and in homes in times of old.


 Thought up from Imaginations or a small tale that grows,


 Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries 
 Of old.

 A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to dream,


 Around the world many have listened, stories across the 
 Sea.

 Stories are told that touch ones soul," listen child" they 
 Never grow too old,

 Generation to Generation, within cultures of different  
 Beliefs, A tale that speaks.
                                   Keith Garrett

                                                                                         
                   THE CAPED CRUSADERS


 Do you remember? If  you were a child, an adult 
 Would know,
 Nineteen sixty six was the beginning of a super  
 Heroes show.
 I watched as there were villians, Batman and Robin 
 Would only know,
 I collected cards when I was a child, the bat mobile 
 And all they acquired.
 Between a world of reality and make believe, Batman 
 And the boy wonder were a child's dream,

 A call from the commissioner that a criminal was back in 
 Town, the bat signal was found.
 The Bat boat, the Bat copter, so amazed was I by the Bat   
 Cave, down the poles on their way,

 Masks and capes, crazy weapons to help them on their  
 Journey To stop the criminally insane.

 Remember their names, so many to say, Joker, Riddler, 
 Catwoman, And penguin, are a memory,
 So many villians, can you think of their names, look   
 At Their Faces, a child once again.
 Batman and Robin, a comical team, Bruce Wayne and Dick  
 Grayson Were reality in a dream,
 Let's not forget Alfred, butler and keeper of secrets in 
 Between, Gotham city and fantasy.

                                 Keith Garrett

                                                                                                 
                EMOTIONS FROM THE WIND



 Listen to it on a stormy night, screams with an 
 Angry fright,



 Does it cry out after disaster strikes, invisible tears.




 Can you hear the laughter from it, blowing on a Spring 
 Day,



 Is in it sadness, as always must it go away, does the 
 Wind feel.



 Emotions from the wind, a thought, and fantasy from 
 Within,



 We must dream and believe that possibilities are ours to 
 Be.

                    Keith Garrett

                      LIST OF FRIENDS


 I go back in time to a city in my mind,


 Memories, a list of friends in my heart and thoughts.


 Yorba Linda is where I'll travel, a beautiful spot,


 I saw them at school, weekends in the pool.


 Sitting on their porch, hanging around at the park,


 The donut shop, a pizza with a few to start.


 Riding our bikes down to the baseball field,


 Tastee-freeze for an Ice cream in the heat.


 Remember the hills before they were taken away,


 We hung out together, dreaming was real.


 Seven eleven, down in the greenbelt,


 Names of many different streets, homes of a list of 
 Friends.

 I remember all of you as I grow a bit older each day,


 Those special moments in the sun, never forgetting the 
 Things we had done,

 My list of friends, from a place that still lives.


                   Keith Garrett  

                                                                                                           
                         CANE IN HAND



 We start out young just as the early morning sunrise,



 Follow a path do we watching the sun make its way along.



 Journey do we through the days just as the light slowly 
 Lessens,


 Along the way we see many things, the sun passes over all 
 There is.


 The sun will one day set, as of now it does slowly move 
 To The West,


 Darkness will one day fall just as we will all grow from 
 Young to old.


 Cane in hand we are found, at sunset, the sun going down.


                   Keith Garrett

                         UNSEEN


 I'm all around, sometimes I'll go away,




 In the morning a visit, maybe at the end of your day.




 I've been known to whisper or at times a scream,




 I push through the trees, perhaps awake you from a dream.




 I may go very fast or swirl around,




 Everywhere Is where I am bound.




 Since the beginning of time, from then I was born,




 Always will I be here with an unseen form.


                    Keith Garrett

                                                                                               
                   THE BULLY                   


 He has a name, lives does he in a neighborhood, 
 Maybe yours,

 You have met him before, perhaps a lifetime ago in school, 
 He still lives.

 He knows of many people and he'll meet many more, not a 
 Friend is he,

 I saw him once before, not in a dream but in my  
 childhood reality.        

 More than one time did I meet him, he thought he was 
 Special as

 He followed me through my younger days or waited for me 
 To get to school.

 He never goes away fore he is the cowardly bully who 
 Waits every day,
 Always seeking out the weak, scared, and usually the 
 Peaceful one.

 The bully torments until his weakness and cowardly ways 
 Are found out,

 Although he will lose his power, again he is born with 
 Another face.

 I still to this day see the bully and he has many faces 
 Of ugliness,

 He can no longer touch me, He knows i'm not afraid.


 The bully goes to far and each day he disappears.

                                 Keith Garrett

                     SWORD AND GUN



 More than a century ago, a man lived and roamed,



 He was of both good and bad as life was hard in his land.



 He traveled alone, no family to call his own, who was he,



 On a mission of some kind, something needed to be changed.



 To prove he was of a descent kind, not on the wrong side 
 Of things,


 Go to war against those who were of evil against a  
 Certain Law.


 Dressed was he ready for the fight, a poncho, sword and 
 Gun At his side,


 From a long time before, he was the master gunfighter, 
 Today

                                     Keith Garrett

                                                                                                       
                FACE OF THUNDER



 Appears with many a storm, it is not seen,




 Growls, lets out an echoing roar from above.




 Not a soft voice as it screeches out with anger,




 Picture a face with mouth open wide, fiery eyes.




 Traveling around, town to town, a booming sound,




 Listen for the rumble, a face of thunder.


                     Keith Garrett

                                                                                                  
                 FROM THE BALCONY



 I see the trees standing in the sky,


 The cars go by as I watch from high.


 Walking people going here and there,


 Sometimes I wonder if they're happy or in pain.


 Do I really care when from the balcony I stare,


 Without a name, to me, they are not there.


 The wind I feel as I am looking everywhere,


 The sky is hazy, a quiet moment is where I am.


 From inside I watch through the window,


 The balcony is there, quietly I don't really care 
 What is out there.
                       Keith Garrett