Heart for Heart

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

My affection was never held secret;

Attraction confessed; with all its defects,

Sentiment lay exposed from the outset;

Unguarded; lust defeating intellect.

I offered self, desiring the same –

Heart for heart, hand for hand, and soul for soul;

Love enkindling passion without shame;

Intense spirits blazing beyond control.

But, yearning could not win respect, and pleas

Fell on ears deaf to solicitation.

Emotion withered, leaving me lonely,

As desolation replaced devotion.

   Despite intention pure, and honor sworn,

   Everything was too much to ask for.

Angry Muses

By Bud Koenemund

I fear the Muses have abandoned me;

Withdrawing with them that inspiration

Given so freely when I praised beauty

And love in songs of foolish emotion.

The cause ignored, those Nine of myth recede

In solidarity with their sister;

Mortal, though no less capable to breed

Lyric – a tenth goddess whose whispers stir.

This penance – punishment for protecting

My heart – has crippled both rhythm and rhyme;

As words wither, a poet disaffects

Life sans verses gifted past midnight’s chime.

   Her voice has faded from my memory,

   While creation crumbles in fantasy.

Frankenstein

By Bud Koenemund

“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine

and rage the likes of which you would not believe.”

– Mary Shelley

There is, too oft’, a war within my mind;

‘Twixt Good and Evil; the Dark Side and Light;

Intellect struggling to resist blind

Ignorance as shadows obscure the right.

Like poison unchecked, discontent infects

My soul, arousing inhumanity;

A monster existing disaffected

Toward empathy, risking insanity.

Why must I continue this conflict ‘gainst

Self, denied solace in another’s hand;

Some being like me to re-kindle sense,

Restore hope, and grant ease from life’s demands?

   Solitude only nourishes my rage,

   And bitterness grows as love dies away.

Indomitable

By Bud Koenemund

For Shaindel Beers

I wish to protect thee – in my fashion.

Drop everything, rush there, and shield you

From the world; from doubt; from yourself; dragons

Immortal; fears forever pursuing.

Training dictates action, see? My father;

Gary Cooper; John Wayne; the Infantry;

Always taught to defend the weak – rather

Smothering with attempts at chivalry.

‘Tis ever man’s hubris, I’ve learned: seeking

To support a survivor; these labors

Merely re-arranging deck chairs, sinking

Slowly into comments on the décor

   While you heal; for thou art no damsel

   In distress, but a heart indomitable.

A Better Sonnet for Christina Alvarado

By Bud Koenemund

There are dangers every poet knows:

The Lake of Goo, and mindfields filled with words

Defective; emotion twisting their prose,

Or adherence to a form which can blur

Function – risking misinterpretation.

Still they muddle, matching rhythm and rhyme

In little songs to show admiration;

Praise courting immortality while time

Demands submission. Although memory

Will fade away, these verses shall endure

Forever – love sans ambiguity;

Bestowed with reverence and intent pure.

   Absent voice, I pen my exaltation:

   To Venus, and Muse, in celebration.

Pulse

By Bud Koenemund

For Orlando (12 June 2016)

Did you think violence would bring victory?

That enmity could force change in nature?

Make even one surrender liberty?

Gay, straight, transgender – we’re all God’s creatures!

Every bullet fired; each knife thrust;

Senseless pain inflicted; epithet hurled;

Nose fragmented, rib bruised, or head concussed

Enflames our hearts – the pulse filling this world.

Yes, your venom stole life, but love lives on;

Flourishing; shining through the ignorance

Of hate. And, that kiss which enraged shall bond

Us in celebration of difference.

   Diversity strengthens our unity,

   We will rise together – humanity!

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part VI: Freedom)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Shall a heart incandescent with love be

Consumed by hate? Must one choke the other –

Torment equaling passion’s quantity –

‘Til embers of desire are smothered;

Expiring sans wisp, ash, smoke, or rack –

Token corporeal to signify

Its extinction? Ignored, fervor turns black,

Eclipsing all that light once beautified.

Respect died in a doppelganger’s eye;

Could I not see myself mirrored in him?

Recalling what might have been magnified

My grief, but catharsis yielded freedom.

   Two decades lost can never be regained,

   Though affection lives again unconstrained.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part V: Repentance)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Oh, Lady; I believed, and so oft’ swore

My passion, like the stars, would never cool –

Thy heart held in mine, forever adored.

Alas, love, once more, has proved me a fool.

These words have grown repetitive; complaints

Monotonous – despite intention pure –

And fervor neglected has finally waned,

For you could not be mine as I was yours.

The offense lies tattooed upon my soul –

Indelible, and irredeemable –

As life, it seems, demands a monstrous toll;

Leaving voice censured, and mind unstable.

   I do at last repent that affection;

   Praying some power will grant redemption.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part IV: Language Lesson)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

‘Twas a muse who rendered my words useless;

Those I believed most sacred impotent

‘Fore her indifference, and each success

Tainted by reality: a heart rent;

Left without the one thing it desires;

Unable to woo, and incapable

Of forgetting; left burning in fires

Stoked by my own hand – inescapable

Torment. The pen, they say, wields more power

Than a sword, but passionate language pales

Compared to self-doubt, and fortune lours

O’er my naiveté as love lies veiled.

   The scars of this lesson may never heal;

   Wounds remaining forever uncongealed.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part III: Insufficiency)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

In truth, Muse, I dread thy inspiration;

The mid-night whisperings that tease my ear,

Once more igniting flames of obsession –

A passion undiminished despite years

Neglected; left smoldering and alone.

I must confess, ‘tis not thy tongue I fear,

And rather should embrace the songs you’ve sown –

Sacred melodies I alone can hear –

But, shame lives in my insufficiency:

Knowing mere words are unequal to your

Grace, and their praise oft’ falls short lyrically.

For this sin, thy pardon I do implore.

   These rhymes – unworthy of the page they stain –

   Serve as reminders of love never gained.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part II: She Was...)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

The being who made me invincible,

Yet somehow retained power to destroy

My soul. A spirit irresistible

To mine, her indulgence became my joy.

A muse who inspired so many words;

With eyes that stole my breath, leaving silence.

Alpha and omega – creating worlds

In the mind, even while corrupting sense.

That living Venus; goddess who revealed

The heavens to which emotion can soar,

And self-doubt creating a battlefield

Within my heart – conflicting love and war.

   If it be obsession, I’ll not defend;

   She lives forever: beginning and end.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part I: Madness)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

I do protest my zeal was not madness –

Distemper brought about by attraction.

In truth, I knew no way to love you less,

And rendered unreserv’d devotion.

The falling – fault confirmed, beyond mending –

Served to resurrect a spirit undone;

Some magic kindling passion contending

‘Gainst the fire of twenty thousand suns.

But, weakness infected that desire;

Yearning for all, corrupted everything;

Fervor becoming fuel for a pyre

Reducing adoration to mourning.

   How oft’ can I offer you these same lines,

   Before both heart and intellect resign?

Mediocre White Male Poet Entitlement

By Bud Koenemund

For Shaindel Beers

Peril awaits mediocre white males –

Objection breeds cries of entitlement.

Trapped betwixt love and refusal they flail –

In quicksand, struggle speeds envelopment.

Risk and uncertainty oft’ herald pain;

Attraction devolving in enmity.

Wounded, “nice guys” lash out, although they feign

Indifference, voicing their misery.

Sadly, it appears fantasy is dead,

And life doesn’t end like a fairy tale –

No Beauty transforming this Beast. Instead

Happily ever after remains veiled.

   Words diminish, vanishing in chatter;

   E’en as we protest: all poets matter!

Extant

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Exalting grace is a poet’s duty –

Offering words of praise to birth legend.

History abounds with these deeds; beauty

Glorified; in art forever blazoned.

‘Tis said Helen’s face launched a thousand ships;

That Juliet’s bright cheek would shame the stars,

And Aphrodite’s excellence eclipsed

All – ‘gainst whom even porcelain was marred.

But, I protest your fair is fairer still;

Possessing somehow a charm unsurpassed.

While unseen, your mem’ry abides, and will

Endure though millennia have elapsed.

   Immortality is not mine to grant;

   Yet, this and thee live on in love extant.

Memories of You Always Begin with a Smile

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Memories of you always begin

With a smile; thoughts springing forth to curve

My lips: your laugh; whispers; treason kindled

In the dark; brown eyes; that Clapton song still serves.

For a moment – beautiful, though fleeting –

I see your face, and recall the joy of

First sight; offering my heart, not heeding

The warnings given – a fool blind in love.

Sadly, this pleasure cannot live without

Anguish, and gossamer visions spoil

As what might have been, but never was, routs

These daydreams, leaving affection soiled.

   Remembrance endures, the more torment mine,

   For time has yet to purge you from my mind.

She Didn't Love Me the Way I Loved Her

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

She didn’t love me the way I loved her;

That truth is as simple as it is stark.

Yet, this acceptance can’t spark will censured,

Nor provide solace to my broken heart.

An ecstasy birthed at first sight was marred –

Devotion became steeped in a cauldron

Of pain – tortured by eyes ‘twould shame mere stars.

Deceived, desire led too near those suns,

And as passion soared, sanity melted;

Burned away in fires of apathy.

Still, madness can’t erase the fondness felt

While affection lives on in memory.

   Respect oft’ spoils through indifference,

   But, what’s pure won’t dim to maleficence.

Beautiful

By Bud Koenemund

For Shaindel Beers

Poet; what lyric could I offer you,

Knowing these same words inhabit thy brain?

I must request, Artist, briefly eschew

The pen to come muse, and let verse sustain

Thy spirit. Oh, aptly named – Beautiful –

Indeed, a title unmatched by these rhymes,

Be assured, thy visage remains youthful;

Nature undimmed ‘gainst the ravage of time.

Pray, acknowledge this little song as proof

Your countenance is appreciated,

And have faith the fleeting years will show truth

Through wisdom earned, and grace to celebrate.

   This praise springs forth by thy inspiration,

   A living light immortal as the Sun.