Inspiration in Desire

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

I fear, Lady, it lies not within my
Power to make you immortal through words
Spilled forth upon a page. Rhythm and rhyme
Fall too short ‘fore thy grace. Prose is absurd;
Found deficient ‘gainst the scope of beauty
Displayed both inside and out. Such discourse,
Oft’ repeated, will turn stale; a duty
Poets must embrace, lest their vows seem forced.
For thee, Muse, I am compelled to create;
Finding inspiration in desire –
A passion that may never be sated.
Yet, here, I strive to raise thy fame higher.
   Crafting true praise remains my endeavor;
   As I seek to make you live forever.

No Muse is Good Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Passion kindled so quickly, but it seems

The feelings were completely one-sided.

Despite rhythm and rhyme, you crushed my dreams

‘Gainst the rocks reality provided.

Desire blinded me, and I confused

You for the bringer of inspiration;

A goddess to every writer; a muse

Who grants by grace the gift of creation.

The “you” I loved was only illusion –

An ideal built upon self-deception.

And I, fooled by the equivocation,

Believed you would requite my affection.

   I know now you weren’t worth my devotion;

   Sadly, this awareness was too hard won.

All the Words Unwritten

By Bud Koenemund

All the words unwritten – whirling about
Inside my head, like a discordant storm
Of prolixity – threaten to drown out
Thought, and resist my attempts to transform
A handful from chaos to harmony.
They rattle and clatter around my skull,
Banging together precariously;
Roaring like a hurricane without lull.
But, when a few words tumble into place,
Coalescing to form rhythm and rhyme,
I oft' abandon slumber; embracing
The whisper of my muse past midnight's chime.
   Though my songs suffer form's captivity,
   Such limits arouse creativity.