By Bud Koenemund
For "Her."
You are: my bravery, and greatest fear;
The thief of my voice, e'en as I sing these
Little songs in praise; the cause of each tear,
And ev'ry smile which follows; the keys
To free devotion, as well as its jail;
At once condemnation and redemption;
The void of despair into which I wail;
A muse of fire; Heaven of invention;
Each word my weak fingers manage to scratch
On paper; both sanity and madness;
My heart's desire, and soul's perfect match;
Fantasy, and nightmare; joy, and sadness;
My strength, and
weakness; the queen to a king.
In truth, to me, Love, you are everything.
19 November 2013
Everything
Labels:
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12 November 2013
Doomsday
By Bud Koenemund
For "Her."
Must I await thy call 'til Doomsday come?
O, wilt thou grant my wish: either to claim
This disconsolate heart as thine in sum,
Surrendering thy bosom to the flames
Of that passion enkindled by your eyes;
Or, emancipate a soul thus enslaved –
Bound by my devotion I'll not deny –
Allowing, through grace, a mind to be saved?
If thy will be the former, affection
Is mine; if latter, I'll be forever
Persecuted for my self-deception;
Withering as doubt clouds each endeavour.
All that I am I once more offer thee,
And beg: requite my love or set me free.
For "Her."
Must I await thy call 'til Doomsday come?
O, wilt thou grant my wish: either to claim
This disconsolate heart as thine in sum,
Surrendering thy bosom to the flames
Of that passion enkindled by your eyes;
Or, emancipate a soul thus enslaved –
Bound by my devotion I'll not deny –
Allowing, through grace, a mind to be saved?
If thy will be the former, affection
Is mine; if latter, I'll be forever
Persecuted for my self-deception;
Withering as doubt clouds each endeavour.
All that I am I once more offer thee,
And beg: requite my love or set me free.
Labels:
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mind,
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The Mad Sonneteer,
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