Keith Wesley Combs- Three Poems

Keith Wesley Combs is a painter/poet living in Washington State. His work addresses the regular life of the working man. His work has appeared in Isles of Mist Review, Cokefish, Struggle, Love's Chance Magazine, and many more.


sheltered poet.

I've become somewhat of a recluse.
other than working, shopping for food-beer-cigarettes
and occasional drunken nights at the bar
I mostly stay at home
with my television and loyal dogs and cats
to keep me entertained.
you might say my life
is boring
and I do get lonely for company
and a little intellectual talk-
I do pretty good otherwise.

I've become somewhat of a recluse
but for you, woman
I would venture the world
and discuss the earth's troubles
with strangers in the teahouses and ritzy condos
you frequent.
for you, woman
I'd come back out from my shell.
then, to keep you from leaving
I'd face the people I've grown to despise
and conquer the fears
of what lies beyond these doors.


daily distractions.

I fret the little things
the imaginary things
formed by a paranoid and dwindling mind.

I fret the little things
like whether I will work
tomorrow.
the movies I borrowed and never returned.
whether my dog's ear will ever fully heal.
what my farts will smell like today
and if my penis is too small.

the imaginary things
like fairies and werewolves.
Hitler. aliens. crystal balls.
malls. psychics. voodoo.
the cancer that I believe is growing
in my throat.

my mind has lost its balance.
I can't concentrate on the small accomplishments-
the real things that mean the most.
I always fret the little things
the imaginary things
and whether fret is even a word at all.


lost in translation.

tattoos.
scars.
piercings.
hairy muff scene.
your beauty crosses over the ages.
an Asian model
of pure sexual lust
driving me further into these fantasies
I built around you.

trees.
rocks.
water.
the forest engulfs you
in this portrait you sent me
to remind me of the days
we spent lost in our own garden
and as I examine your naked body
with all the brilliance that is formed into it
I cry for all that I pushed away:
you. our love. the greatest dream
that I ever had come true.