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.