Weird

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.

Guilty in Silence

By Bud Koenemund

For Arthur H. Monigold

He told me not to tell, and I didn’t.

His own grandson – once untainted; trusting –

Protecting a monster whose sin imprints

The soul, poisoning innocence with lust;

Breeding this maelstrom raging through my brain:

Lightning strikes of emotion – wrath and shame;

Hate and self-doubt – a tempest unconstrained.

Yet, misery lurks darkest in that blame

I carry for silence. An accomplice

To evil; remaining mute as he forced

This curse upon others; rending solace

From family: a guilt beyond recourse.

   Though my flesh bears no scar, memory steals

   Peace with injuries time will never heal.

When I Have a Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

When I have a muse, words fit perfectly;

Finding their places as if by magic,

While airy voices whisper secretly:

Poetry and prose midst verse emphatic.

I labor nonetheless, forging sonnets –

Shaping songs with odd old ends of language;

Bleeding ink on paper. This gift, honest

As it is, oft’ dooms my soul to languish;

Drifting through passionate desperation.

But, by your grace, confidence awakens:

Imagination invents expression,

And desire restores a faith shaken.

   Though form arouses creativity,

   ‘Tis thy genius which sparks my artistry.

In Darkness You Will Discover Stars

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

The night of death falls hard upon the heart;

A sackcloth veil shrouding everything held

Dear; breeding grief while spirit breaks apart,

And sadness engulfs those places love dwells.

Lady, I bear similar injuries:

Numbed by depression time may never heal;

Self-doubt that taints both joy and misery;

Abandoned to sorrow without appeal.

But, through pain, loss can empower your soul.

The maelstrom which brings about destruction –

Surging memories whirling uncontrolled –

Could ignite a fire of creation.

   Breathe deep, and do not fear to show your scars;

   For in darkness you will discover stars.