Ars Gratia Artis

By Bud Koenemund

For Arielle

Life has a certain unfairness in it:

Nature entices heart; lust ignores age,

But fate curses me with visage unfit

To woo. Even still, desire rages.

Enkindled by your grace and intellect –

Beauty which transcends mortal countenance –

Language ignites an inferno unchecked,

Though tendered lacking hope of recompense.

Lady, my admiration is undimmed;

Respect enduring despite passing years,

And this confession – converted to hymn –

Sings a chorus I pray will please thy ear.

   Yours lives on though other memories fade –

   A light immortal; proofed ‘gainst end of days.

One Hundred Fifty-Four

By Bud Koenemund

For The Master Sonneteer

While others mock adherence to thy form,

The challenge kindles creativity.

Though I struggle, forging order from storms,

Effort is oft’ rewarded with beauty.

I may crow, during less humble moments,

But will be first to note equality

Is symbolic in this accomplishment;

Rightly measured solely by quantity,

Not quality. One hundred fifty-four

Little songs which dripped off tongues of muses;

Many doomed to be shunned, a few adored;

Each speaking the truth with passion infused.

   By Heaven, I pray this imitation,

   Weak as it is, will prove adoration.

Ten Years Owed

By Bud Koenemund

For Arielle

Once, I presented you with broken prose –

A fool fumbling to reveal affection;

Though much remained unsaid, my heart frozen

By the fear of defeat and rejection.

Thou art fairer than any I’ve beheld;

Azure eyes, radiant as sapphires,

Charm; skin of porcelain in mem’ry dwells,

Setting imagination on fire.

Oh, Muse; these words were owed a decade past.

But, timid, I withheld, respecting age

Despite attraction; avoiding trespass

Or offense; leaving passion unengaged.

   Embers of spirit rekindle this blaze,

   And I must beg pardon for tardy praise.