27 July 2019


By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Lady; passion and intellect divide
Me. While attraction remains true, I know
Your youth, to my age, is rightly denied.
Like Summer’s bright blooms outshine Winter’s snow,
So doth beauty eclipse infirmity.
Nature favors one as others decline:
Fading steadily in obscurity;
The mortality to which all resign.
What can I do if desire’s forbid?
Only a fool would declare affection –
Exposing an emotion best left hid –
When silence affords certain protection.
   Love is safer wrapped in the guise of art,
   For speaking truth will surely break my heart.

18 July 2019

A Goddess and the Sunset

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

(Photograph by Meshi - 2019)

The photograph shows radiance frozen
In time; a Goddess – like some Greek statue –
Contemplates sunset. Beauty in repose;
Veiled in twilight, her skin lit by subdued
Flame married to shadow as day and night
Meet. Aphrodite is reawakened;
A being celestial, burning bright
With fire only the stars can transcend.
Nature and Lady find harmony;
Their graces uniting to inspire art:
The image affords immortality,
While I tender verses writ from my heart.
   Muse; though these words are mine, thine is the praise;
   For ‘tis thy charm that sets my pen ablaze.

01 March 2019

Melted Into Air

For T.

With thanks to Janelle Velasquez,
and the Pittsburgh Public Theater.

Floating ‘cross the stage, her motion revelry;
Ariel: dancing, singing – resplendent
As she shimmers, delighting ev’ry
Faculty – a heavenly transcendence.
This spirit – perfection in form, movement,
Gesture, and expression – enchants the eyes;
Filling admirers with wonderment –
Weaving magic throughout as dreams arise.
Yet, my memory dwells on thoughts of thee,
And days past, when you performed the same role –
A pale blue star becoming muse; briefly
Bestowing thy grace ‘pon this poet’s soul.
   Inspiration bred verse of praise and prayer;
   Tendered respect, then melted into air.

18 December 2018

Sentinels in Blue

By Bud Koenemund

People dismiss us as inconvenient –
Obstacles to work, school, or vacation.
Sentinels in blue; control they resent –
Even while enjoying our protection.
Often, we are targets of ridicule;
Enduring contempt and indifference.
Cursed by the self-entitled for our rules;
Silent as others vent their annoyance.
Still, a few accept this challenge: standing
Firm ‘gainst those who’d see America bowed.
Our mission is the price freedom demands:
A sacrifice many will never know.
   Each day, we rise, making liberty sure;
   Pledging to keep this, our Homeland, secure.

09 March 2018

It Comes at Night

By Bud Koenemund

It comes at night, when I am defenseless.
Black and amorphous, lurking beyond sight;
Yet crushing: enveloping the senses
In fear. Doubt paralyzes, inviting
A surrender I would willingly give.
This unnamed dread – spirit malicious –
Abuses intellect, holding captive
Reason as my own mind becomes seditious;
Left vulnerable to shadows and ghosts –
Specters of depression which mock defeats,
Real or imagined, while I suffer; lost
As thoughts betray: embracing light’s retreat.
   Despair creeps, growing stronger in this gloom,
   Enticing me ever closer to doom.

29 December 2017

Ars Gratia Artis

By Bud Koenemund

For Arielle

Life has a certain unfairness in it:
Nature entices heart; lust ignores age,
But fate curses me with visage unfit
To woo. Even still, desire rages.
Enkindled by your grace and intellect –
Beauty which transcends mortal countenance –
Language ignites an inferno unchecked,
Though tendered lacking hope of recompense.
Lady, my admiration is undimmed;
Respect enduring despite passing years,
And this confession – converted to hymn –
Sings a chorus I pray will please thy ear.
   Yours lives on though other memories fade –
   A light immortal; proofed ‘gainst end of days.

28 December 2017

One Hundred Fifty-Four

By Bud Koenemund

For The Master Sonneteer

While others mock adherence to thy form,
The challenge kindles creativity.
Though I struggle, forging order from storms,
Effort is oft’ rewarded with beauty.
I may crow, during less humble moments,
But will be first to note equality
Is symbolic in this accomplishment;
Rightly measured solely by quantity,
Not quality. One hundred fifty-four
Little songs which dripped off tongues of muses;
Many doomed to be shunned, a few adored;
Each speaking the truth with passion infused.
   By Heaven, I pray this imitation,
   Weak as it is, will prove adoration.

27 December 2017

Ten Years Owed

By Bud Koenemund

For Arielle

Once, I presented you with broken prose –
A fool fumbling to reveal affection;
Though much remained unsaid, my heart frozen
By the fear of defeat and rejection.
Thou art fairer than any I’ve beheld;
Azure eyes, radiant as sapphires,
Charm; skin of porcelain in mem’ry dwells,
Setting imagination on fire.
Oh, Muse; these words were owed a decade past.
But, timid, I withheld, respecting age
Despite attraction; avoiding trespass
Or offense; leaving passion unengaged.
   Embers of spirit rekindle this blaze,
   And I must beg pardon for tardy praise.

30 November 2017


By Bud Koenemund

For Trey

What wonder fills the mind of a child;
An exuberance unbridled by doubt,
While imagination leads to wild
Adventures spanning galaxies…without
Fear of missing dinner. Inquisitive;
Hungry for the knowledge found in this world,
And others beyond reach. Intuitive;
Seeking truth as life’s mysteries unfurl
About them. Though bodies rest, thoughts hurry
Ahead. Dreams race against time to reveal
The universe before sunrise can blur
Miracles which daylight, and age, conceal.
   Youth itself kindles curiosity;
   Igniting flames of creativity.

27 October 2017


By Bud Koenemund

For C.

I’m weird? Pray tell, for writing little songs?
Articulating my feelings with verse?
While futile, would you call struggle wrong;
The offering of sentiment perverse?
But, I beg, remember, in days to come,
When thou art married, and bear two point three
Kids; suffering a man whose brain is numb;
Abiding ignorance, as love’s decreed
Through monosyllabic grunts; recall these
Scribblings fondly. Cherish those mem’ries
Awakened by words spun only to please
Your eye, with rhythm, and rhyme’s symmetry.
   Though there is strangeness in the proportions
   Of my mind, it feeds beauty’s expression.