The Green-Eyed Girl and the Supermoon

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

The green-eyed girl, like some ethereal
Being, gliding, ghostly in the moonlight,
Guided him across the sand. The feel
Of her hand, warm and soft in his, delighting
Every sense, while his intellect failed;
Yielding all to love, lust, and lunacy.
Reaching the water, she turned, her face veiled
In shadow, and kissed his lips eagerly.
His arms enveloped her, pulling her close –
A beauty, wondrous, to rival that bright
Body celestial – Nature’s awe exposed;
In sky and on earth, a heavenly sight.
   But, like all dreams, this vision could not stay;
   On waking, fantasy faded away.

Unrepentant

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Lady, I do confess, my desire
For you turns bestial. My thoughts border
On the profane – lust burns like a fire –
While reason collapses in disorder.
The more consumed, the faster madness grows,
And I can scarce trust my own intellect.
In the end, this passion will overthrow
My mind as hunger amplifies unchecked.
For concupiscence, I ask no forgiveness.
Unrepentant – holding appetite
No sin – I seek salvation in excess
When your flesh provides heavenly delight.
   I pray; bless my body and damn my soul
   Eternal; for I will you e’er extoll.

All the Words in the World

By Bud Koenemund

How oft’ did verses take birth in your eyes;
As if each glimpse granted inspiration?
I prayed those poems to Heaven would fly,
And sway thy bosom with proofed affection.
I wanted, for us, immortality –
Bestowing fame lasting beyond our years;
This ambition surpassing vanity:
More a devotion of toil and tears.
In the end, though, my efforts achieved
Nothing but changing pain for passion true;
When desire conspired to deceive
An ever foolish man who dared love you.
   This song mourns the impotence of my art;
   For all the words in the world won’t win your heart.

Variations on a Theme

By Bud Koenemund

‘Tis true, I must confess, many of these
Little songs seem only variations
On a theme – rhythms, with rhymes meant to please
The eye: imperfect stabs at perfection.
Yet, what idea, save love, could entice
Such verse prolific; praise so inspired;
Promises of passion and sacrifice,
Whether facing Heaven or hellfire?
I do fear repetition may dampen
A heart’s assessment of sincerity;
Though that judgment will never lessen
Zeal; nor taint these musings with perversity.
   My form is rough; iambs full of defects;
   But, pray, let this not detract from respect.

Heaven Help Me

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: January 2021)

Heaven help me, I get lost in your eyes;
My mind enchanted by those circled orbs –
A maelstrom of fantasy spinning – while sighs
Escape from lips longing to kiss yours.
Oh, I must confess, too many waking
Thoughts are consumed by daydreams; my focus
Struggling ‘gainst grace; Reason’s forsaken,
Abandoned to a barely disguised lust.
Yet, even this concupiscence is pure –
A respect undimmed by base desire –
And my heart requires no other cure
But passion, for which I’ll risk Hell’s fire.
   I do revel in thy beauty endued;
   Treasuring ev’ry moment spent with you.

I Can Fly Again

 By Bud Koenemund

Holding your hand, by and by, I can fly
Again; soaring across the universe;
Whirling beyond galaxies; defying
Gravity; past forms Heavenly diverse.
Wonders surpassing words unfold ‘round me,
Bathing all in both darkness and fire.
Yet, it is your touch which sets my mind free
From restraint; thy beauty inspiring
Ethereal peace – a body at rest,
Even as this tempest of creation
Engulfs my brain: fantastic visions that test
The limits of imagination.
   Wakefulness brings torment, and so it seems
   I can find solace only in my dreams.

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.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part II: She Was...)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

The being who made me invincible,

Yet somehow retained power to destroy

My soul. A spirit irresistible

To mine, her indulgence became my joy.

A muse who inspired so many words;

With eyes that stole my breath, leaving silence.

Alpha and omega – creating worlds

In the mind, even while corrupting sense.

That living Venus; goddess who revealed

The heavens to which emotion can soar,

And self-doubt creating a battlefield

Within my heart – conflicting love and war.

   If it be obsession, I’ll not defend;

   She lives forever: beginning and end.

Silhouette

By Bud Koenemund

(Note: This sonnet was inspired by a photograph. I have not yet obtained permission to post that. When I do, I will add it.)

For Kristen Brownell

Poets worship beauty between rhymes too

Ethereal – they diminish quickly

When delivered by those praising a muse

On pages stained with verse impolitic.

‘Tis certain heaven abides in the way

A body moves – that holy temptation

Created as breasts jiggle and hips sway –

Enticing mortals to risk damnation.

Though attraction is oft’ obscured by sight –

Passion fueled by the lust for short-lived grace –

Love can flourish between shadow and light,

Binding two forever as souls embrace.

   Not seeing, I find what my eyes neglect

   Hidden in the truth of your silhouette.

What's in a Name?

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Thy name, which I worshiped ‘bove all others –
Goddess of my idolatry – a prayer
Once whispered in reverence, has smothered
Piety, like a fire denied air.
Beauty exalted; enskied by angel’s
Voices; celebrated in the Heavens;
That word, so pure and sacred, now doth quell
My life, leaving a faithful soul riven.
And, even as fragments struggle toward light,
Betrayal drags me deeper into Hell,
Unleashing horrors; such harrowing sights
None, save perhaps Alighieri, can tell.
   “Her” – my Dark Lady – will as muse endure,
   Though ‘gainst deception I remain inured.

I Loved You the Only Way I Know How

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

I loved you the only way I know how:
Everything I am, or might have become,
Offered freely, and attended by vows
This affection to death could ne’er succumb.
Although sanity was oft’ suspect, no
Measure of devotion can truly gauge
The quantity I swore to thee would grow
E’er stronger as respect ripened with age.
But, shame will stain one who dares to grant all –
Mind, body, and soul – without guarantee
Of recompense, and I lived on enthralled;
Believing someday you’d answer my pleas.
   By all things enskied ‘tween Heaven and Hell,
   I did worship thee past what words can tell.

My Own Worst Enemy

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Heaven knows why I continue to blame
You for my fragmented soul, when the fault
Lies with me alone. But, admitting shame
Achieves no solace – no peace to exalt –
When my thoughts constantly echo failure –
Real and imagined – poisoning present
Delight; making my own mind the jailer
Of happiness. I fear this discontent
Will grow, festering in obscurity;
Resistant to the healing love provides.
Neglect has sullied passion’s purity;
Cursing affection by excising pride.
   Memories of you leave my heart fallow,
   And forever proofed ‘gainst Cupid’s arrow.

Everything

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You are: my bravery, and greatest fear;
The thief of my voice, e'en as I sing these
Little songs in praise; the cause of each tear,
And ev'ry smile which follows; the keys
To free devotion, as well as its jail;
At once condemnation and redemption;
The void of despair into which I wail;
A muse of fire; Heaven of invention;
Each word my weak fingers manage to scratch
On paper; both sanity and madness;
My heart's desire, and soul's perfect match;
Fantasy, and nightmare; joy, and sadness;
   My strength, and weakness; the queen to a king.
   In truth, to me, Love, you are everything.

Maelstrom

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

A maelstrom of doubt threatens to o'erwhelm
Our hearts, leaving them awash in green-eyed
Jealousy; turning this Heaven to Hell;
As we founder in an ocean of pride.
We both must learn to forgive our mistakes –
Allowing imperfection's perfection.
Accept our flaws, and let tempest rewake
Rapture with promises of affection.
Incandescent desire will not die –
With time a spirit drown'd may revive.
In truth, by woe love oft' intensifies,
So, trust 'gainst this storm our spark can survive.
   Grant passion's flame a chance to rekindle,
   And the grace of this world will ne'er dwindle.

Muse No More

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You were the brightest light in a Heaven
Of stars – one whose brilliance outlasted morn.
Thy invention made my garden Eden;
A paradise somehow fashioned of worn
Rhymes. Indeed, so oft' did thoughts of you guide
My pen, the world might presume you poet,
And I mere scrivener. Within thy eyes
Lived all my words, and in those words the debt
I'll e'er owe thee. But, deceit lay coiled
In this oasis – neglect at its side.
By one, trust will only molder to spoil;
By the other's poison, affection dies.
   Thy graces with quill I did long adore,
   Though, for want of truth, thou art muse no more.

Drought

For "Her."

If it be thy rain which nourishes love,

I find myself in drought; lacking even

A cloud to bring hope of relief above

The parched landscape of my heart. O, heaven;

Feed this withering affection that it

May flower anew, growing stronger by

Showers of passion. I beg the spirits:

Make us, like lightning and thunder, enskied.

Fear not I may drown within thy torrent;

Though supposed weak, my roots go deeper

Than I can exhibit in this warrant;

But, blooms neglected don't last forever.

   Unleash thy storms to quench this wicked thirst,

   And in my garden of love live immersed.

Doubt Not Thy Face Will Feel the Sun Again

For TK

Doubt not thy face will feel the sun again,
And bask in the warmth of love's majesty.
Like a flower reaching up toward Heaven's
Light, you'll grow strong despite this malady.
The fragments of your heart, too oft' broken,
Shall heal once more by the physic of time;
A spring will soften what is now frozen,
To seek anew that emotion sublime.
Though my well-meant words cannot ease thy pain,
Nor dispel the gloom found in the abyss
Of memory, know this darkness shall wane,
For melancholy can brighten to bliss.
   I pray divine power will grant thee rest,
   As peace floods the sacristy of thy breast.

Teach My Fingers Words to Win Your Heart

For "Her."

How many sonnets must I pen before
You'll love me back? What number would you hold
As proof of devotion? Muse, I implore,
Grant me a gift valued higher than gold.
O, teach my fingers words to win your heart,
And I will abandon caution to make
The blood in my veins the ink for that art.
Give me your hand – let sweet affection wake
In thy eye and grow stronger in thy breast.
Demand your tribute, goddess, and despite
A poet's wit, I'll strive with every breath
To venerate you with the vows I write.
Lady, I beg thee, consent to be mine,
As I, by Heaven, am forever thine.

Angel

Inspired by a work in progress by Mandee Alyson Clifton

O, how inconceivable is the soul
Knitted within my womb like fragile lace?
A blessing words cannot wholly extol;
An angel: sure proof of eternal grace.
My heart, once desolate, is now o'erfull
With love. I give my life to you – as yours
Was granted me – my belov'd jewel,
And pledge to ever protect and adore.
But, language falls short of the perfection
Thou art – forever failing thy beauty
In my eyes – and lacks honest expression
Of the long, bless'd life I wish for thee.
To be worthy of this gift, I will strive,
As my mother's prayers up to Heaven rise.