the lion.

man, this cat could play
formin’ the stride
a jazz musician of the times-
sophistication-harmony._____

enter the lion
the beauty-beatitude-beautiful._____

 

The Guitar.

Five maidens dance
at the crossroads
to the music of the spirits-
jazz guitar soul.
Three lovers of flesh
two of the night.
We watch as they move
to the rhythm
to the love of the dance
swaying
swaying
moving to the guitar soul-
its everlasting soul.

 

 

The Bayou.

in the club
listening to the music play.
my whiskey and coke
goes down a little smoother
as the saxman blows.
I can feel it vibrate.
it penetrates thru my body
as the jazz piano wails
and as I lay down in bed
I can still feel the rhythm
soothing me, creeping in
moving me into beautiful dreams.

 

 

spinning.

my mind is spinning:
blues, jazz, soul.
the creative juices move
entrapping me
as the musicians
play on.

my mind is spinning:
giddy, dizzy, wow!
the trumpet belts the tunes sharp
almost out of control.
as I close my eyes
I taste it, smell it
while yours, theirs and my climax
begins to explode.

my mind is spinning:
fast, hard, free…

 

 

About Keith Wesley Combs

Keith Wesley Combs is a union painter and writer of poetry. At the age of 36, he has seen and experienced all kind of characters in his hometown of Kennewick, Washington and on his travels along the west coast, which he has shown through his writing. His work has appeared in The Main Street Rag, Black Book Press, Pearl, Struggle, The Chicago Record, Dead Snakes, and many more.