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.

Wonder

By Bud Koenemund

For Trey

What wonder fills the mind of a child;

An exuberance unbridled by doubt,

While imagination leads to wild

Adventures spanning galaxies…without

Fear of missing dinner. Inquisitive;

Hungry for the knowledge found in this world,

And others beyond reach. Intuitive;

Seeking truth as life’s mysteries unfurl

About them. Though bodies rest, thoughts hurry

Ahead. Dreams race against time to reveal

The universe before sunrise can blur

Miracles which daylight, and age, conceal.

   Youth itself kindles curiosity;

   Igniting flames of creativity.

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.

Breath

By Bud Koenemund

For K.

My hand was made to fit around your throat,

Enjoying the warmth of caramel skin,

Denying breath as my tongue darts and floats

Over flesh, blissfully drinking you in.

I squeeze, while you gasp, clutching at my wrist;

Mind struggling ‘gainst body’s desire,

A loss of control neither can resist –

Surrendering to burn in this fire;

The passion raging ‘til la petite mort

Erupts with a maelstrom of ecstasy;

Our pleasure and pain thunder as we court

That death before collapsing breathlessly.

   Domination and submission feed lust,

   But love matures in these displays of trust.

Why?

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You ask why I will not respond to calls;

Leaving communication neglected;

Letting silence greet appeals, as love falls

Discontented, and spirit’s infected?

Your indifference pierced my heart countless times.

Though, I confess, I granted admittance

To thy blade; an accomplice in these crimes;

Guilty, somehow, for want of resistance.

Still, you endure as muse: a soul’s agony –

Equal parts torment and inspiration –

Your face lingering in memory;

Ecstasy through pain: my devil’s bargain.

   Affection withered afflicted by lies;

   Yet, feigning ignorance, you ask me why?

Surprise

Actually, it's only a little more than half. ;-)

Seduction by Art

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

My ambition is seduction by art;

Tempting with lyrics that dance across skin,

As poetry speaks love from tongue to heart;

Stirring desire which blesses such sin.

Your form fires the imagination,

Shaping rhyme; verses take life in those eyes,

And a gloved hand could cause an eruption:

Expressions of fervor for one enskied.

I pray these words will arouse ecstasy –

Undressing body and mind; illicit

Acts to satiate lust: a melody

Of moans unifying flesh with spirit.

   My passion grows beyond concupiscence;

   An oath I trust will excuse this offense.

Words, Words, Words

Love is a Weapon

Peace

By Bud Koenemund

I fear my mind will never be at peace.

Denied solace – some rest to cast aside

Burdens – I stalk the unrelenting beast

Within, while pain breeds thoughts unsanctified

By reason. Truth becomes ethereal –

For even intellect strains sanity –

When reality seems a betrayal

Of being as I bear life’s misery;

An indifference leaving the soul hollow.

Time possesses no power to assuage

Those malignant fiends who lurk in shadow,

Sowing madness which intensifies rage.

   This maelstrom’s fury has obscured the light,

   Shrouding spirit in an abyss of night.

We're Writers

Lemon Meringue Pie

The Scars Remain

The Only Way I Know How

By Your Inspiration

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

I am, too often, deficient in speech;

Struck silent by the war ‘twixt intellect

And passion; seeking language that would reach

Your heart; confessions I pray might connect

Our souls; striving to express desire,

While pledging the respect of innocence.

Though my rhymes are feeble, I must admire

Thy beauty, and compliment elegance.

Muse, thou art more deserving of esteem

Than any who treads upon the base Earth

We inhabit. From that grace, like sunbeams,

Words radiate to celebrate love’s worth.

   Be sure such light enkindles creation,

   For this took life by your inspiration.

Light and Darkness

What Makes Me Write?

More Fool Than Poet

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

If poetry could amend my visage;

Its rhythm melt away a dozen years,

Allowing prose or rhyme power to bridge

The chasm twixt concupiscence and fear,

I would dedicate my verses for thee;

Endeavouring ever to coax your smile

With little songs proclaiming its beauty –

Confessions composed in a heart beguiled.

But, cursed by time, what words can I bestow

That might defy fortune and win thy kiss?

Lady; you make me more fool than poet;

Courting doom as age mocks my search for bliss.

   Oh, Muse; goddess of creativity;

   Thy grace shall achieve immortality.

Madness and Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever." - John Keats

I hold your memory against my will;

Sentiment which imperils sanity

When every thought and dream reminds me still

Of the fool who gave devotion blindly.

But, this world won’t stop for a broken heart.

Indifferent to pain, both moon and sun

Rise, shine, then retire without regard;

Beg heaven for pity, you’ll receive none.

These things I desire can never be

Real. Love, fidelity lasting past death –

Blessed by madness and muse – is fantasy;

Affection shrouded in the dragon’s breath.

   Misery, it seems, lives joy’s companion;

   Torment entwined with beauty and passion.

The Brightness of Heaven Outshined

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

What power lies hidden in beauty’s eyes –

Enchanting and mysterious – to seize

My heart; kindling passion undisguised

By modesty? Could any galaxy’s

Stars counterfeit the radiance I find

In those orbs? O, even angels enskied

Must praise the brightness of heaven outshined;

Mere ash compared ‘gainst emeralds rarified.

But, time has cursed me to live in shadow,

Lacking the incandescence of your grace;

And yet, I will stumble forward unbowed,

Desiring thy kiss ere death’s embrace.

   While words can celebrate organs of sight,

   These verses pale in your eternal light.