30 September 2015

The Mad Sonneteer Muses Club

By Bud Koenemund

For my (many?) Muses

In truth, it’s a club rather exclusive –
Relative to, you might say, Madison
Square Garden; nigh a score of elusive
Muses. Plus a mad sonneteer undone
By words – admittedly a clumsy tool –
For he frights the hearts he would admire.
‘Tis an easy task: arousing a fool,
Immolating his soul upon the pyre
Of love, then leaving him to beg favor
While tilting vainly at the dragon lust.
Would not one reach out; becoming savior
To a poet, thus mending broken trust?
   Lady, forgive this proliferation;
   I swear, it could ne’er dilute affection.

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