Half

By Bud Koenemund

Half of my heart is still in love with you;
A notion foolish as it is sincere,
When that affection’s forever imbued
By sadness: growing more and more austere.
Half of my mind is still in love with you;
Yet condemned to recall happier days,
‘Fore passion incandescent went askew;
Leaving intellect and sanity razed.
Half of my soul still belongs to you;
Though ‘tis now mortal – crushed beyond the repair
Time can grant; a solace long overdue –
As I stumble about in my despair.
   I seek a peace I fear I’ll never find,
   While memory and shadow intertwine.

A Warrior Poet's Soul

By Bud Koenemund

For Christina Alvarado

My mind cries out, profaning the universe;
Mourning, o’er and o’er, this tragedy –
An assault on existence – while cursing
A suppos’d caring god’s perfidy.
I wish I could hold you in my arms now;
Embracing gently; a reassuring
Touch to defy despair and doubt; somehow
Granting peace – a balm easing suffering.
But, I know the strength you possess: spirit,
Resolve, stubbornness, and tenacity;
With a warrior poet’s soul. Sans fear,
You’ll tilt ‘gainst fate for immortality.
   I have and will always love you, my Friend;
   Sentiment which shall endure ‘til time’s end.

From Dust to Dust

By Bud Koenemund

Why would I fear something I have wished for,
Even tempted, nigh on 25 years?
What suffering exists beyond abhorred
Death’s veil that could eclipse pain endured here?
I should welcome an end to this torment –
The unceasing agony called life – which
Has left both intellect and body rent;
Bereft in spirit; with a soul of pitch.
Unafraid, I hold surrender not a sin;
I’ll embrace the darkness; finally
Set free from worldly struggles; whole again,
Someplace where these griefs no longer bind me.
   From dust, to dust, and thus a debt is paid
   When I, at last, am by the Reaper bade.

When Forever Doesn't Mean Forever

By Bud Koenemund

Words often evolve over centuries;
Rising and falling while meanings altered.
Some are lost in language’s vagaries,
Disappearing, to be re-discovered
In not-always-ancient texts; re-defined –
Even the victim of mistranslation –
Gaining life hence as lexicons refine;
Embraced for use by new generations.
But, I believed one word inviolate;
Sacred and immune to fate’s quickening;
Spoken always without fear or regret,
Until the day I learned love means nothing.
   How does a heart find strength to persevere,
   When forever doesn’t mean forever?

Wanton Ambling Nymphs

By Bud Koenemund

I fear perfect love is but fantasy;
A fiction dwelling solely in my brain;
Some trick of the mind’s creativity –
That domain where wanton ambling nymphs reign
O’er intellect; suffused by fairy tales
Oft’ ending happily ever after:
Though illusions inevitably fail
When affection’s nativity yields hurt.
These dreams ne’er align with reality,
As I awake confined in loneliness.
Yet, this despair does afford clarity –
A recognition of unworthiness.
   Time’s passage will prove no balm for my soul;
   I am left without cure to make me whole.

No More Desire for Light

By Bud Koenemund

I know one way to express devotion:
Offering my entire heart and soul –
Withholding nothing; risking emotion
Perilous; braving passion uncontrolled
By intellect. And, the cost has become
Too dear as torment strips vitality,
Inducing me to wish all feeling numbed –
Surrender slouching toward finality.
In truth, love has caused me nothing but pain.
Though, I doubt any revelation
Of zeal could bring joy when such unrestrained
Affection only invited destruction.
   I will feign no more desire for light;
   Leaving my soul abandoned and blighted.

Wolf and Hind

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

“Is this what you want?” I ask, even as
I squeeze, choking off her breath to reply.
She struggles – tempted and teased; slow and fast –
Her body craves release, which I deny.
Lust will once more transform two into one;
The heat of desire burning our minds;
A hunger for flesh leaves us both undone,
While devouring each like wolf and hind.
Though I am in charge, this domination
Is dual pleasure – mine derived from hers;
Every sense overwhelmed by passion.
When the little death comes, all Reason’s blurred.
   This fire between us can’t be contained;
   Concupiscence – intense and unrestrained.

I Belong!

By Bud Koenemund

For Jenna

In humans resides a passion for art.
Through poetry, ink, music, paint, or song
Many endeavor to express their heart
And soul; an act declaring “I belong!”
Despite critics – the worst living within
Our own minds – we persevere: creating;
Hating; destroying; beginning again;
Working; changing; crafting; re-editing;
Seeking a perfection that oft’ eludes
The grasp of mortals; ever contending
‘Gainst doubt; utilizing talent imbued
To produce genius. And, at our end,
   It matters not if results were obtained
   By tiny increments or sweeping gains.

Remember to Forget

By Bud Koenemund

I wish I could remember to forget –
Awakening one day, finally free:
My mind unbound, and Reason manumit;
No more a prisoner of memory.
But, what liberty would that erasure
Provide? Only temporary respite?
Or, a balm healing the wounds I’ve endured;
Allowing re-birth of spirit and wit?
Time, I fear, will never grant me solace –
Peace has yet to suffuse my weary soul.
Indeed, though years have burned away apace,
Your absence still exacts a grievous toll.
   Recollection brings you back to my brain,
   E’en as I seek deliverance from pain.

Wondrous and Magical

By Bud Koenemund

For E.

With apologies to William Shakespeare

I would compare thee to a summer’s day;
But, that one’s been done before, by better
Wit; and verses, I fear, are overplayed
When pretty words, more than actions, matter.
Though my muse could ne’er want for invention
While you, fairest of fair, do grace this earth,
My prose struggles to match inspiration –
A predicament oft’ a poet’s curse.
Be assured, I pray, these creations
Speak truth: exalting spirit unrivaled;
A soul soaring beyond comprehension,
And mind seeking the wondrous and magical.
   My willing labor is thy praise, Empress;
   To bestow immortality my quest.