Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Keith Wesley Combs- Three Poems

Keith Wesley Combs lives in Tri-Cities, Washington. His work is influenced by all the people he's loved, detested and sadly lost, plus all the experiences{whether good or bad} he has experienced along the way. His work has appeared in Isles of Mist Review, Poetry Pacific, The Chicago Record, and many more.
Five of his poems are set to be published in The Stray Branch in the Spring/Summer 2017 issue.

no calls.

she didn't call
assuming so, I figured
I'd check.
I turned on the television
found an Irish detective show
poured a drink:
scotch and seven
three ice
more scotch than the latter.
a long day
it had been.
a heavy day
full of loneliness
and the forgotten excuses
for why I had drank before.
I lit a cigarette
gathered my blankets
finished my drink
poured another
and laid down to find
a millimeter of peace
in a lifetime
of excruciating hell.

old bull.

his home has no doors
his bed is a concrete floor.
a wet blanket covers him
as he shivers from the cold.
'they' call him nobody
a vagrant, a loser, a bum.
'they' don't know the torment
he faces from his own mind-
'they' just spit and laugh.
the whiskey dulls his senses
silencing the voices momentarily
once it wares off
they return
with a vengeance
pushing him further into his hole-
his own hell.
the one 'they' created for him
when 'they' sent him
back into the world
to suffer
scared, confused, and so alone.

a younger woman.

I've been craving
the warmth of a nice
young woman.
not too young-
this old man still has morals.
the love is greater-more intense
with the younger woman
and I need something piercing
in this dull life I've created
around myself.
whether shaved or natural
black, brown, yellow, or white
I just crave the unwavering lust
a young woman brings.
the taste of her body.
the smell of her hair and skin.
the ways she makes me feel
vibrant and powerful.

I've been craving
the fire of a lively
young woman
and the romance
I haven't experienced for several years.

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