Orpheus and Eurydice

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

At first sight, beguiled by your beauty,
I became lost in imagination;
Creating art for you – not a duty;
Rather, some blessing of inspiration.
Through this privilege, I sought sacred words
That would enter your ears to captivate
Heart and soul, heedless of the cost incurred;
For passion made me a fool; prostrated
By indifference – over and again.
My mournful songs echo your absence,
While grief traps love in an underworld, straining
To hear footsteps; finding only silence.
   But, unlike the tragic story myth tells,
   With each look back, ‘tis I return to hell.

How Much of Me Must Burn?

By Bud Koenemund

For “Her.”

Heat endures, though I wonder if it’s worth
Fanning embers of a love that’s dying;
Going cold by neglect, and growing worse
When it seems I’m the only one trying
To rekindle those bright flames of passion –
Once incandescent – desire that burned
In our souls. Shall I accept affection
Will never revive? The respect I yearned
For denied, my heart glows on a pyre
Since your scorn; while what sanity remains
Is condemned to the maelstrom of Hell’s fire.
True, I offered all… and would again;
   Yet, a tragic question lurks in that storm:
   How much of me must burn to keep us warm?

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. ;-)

The Scars Remain

The Only Way I Know How

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.

Heart for Heart

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

My affection was never held secret;

Attraction confessed; with all its defects,

Sentiment lay exposed from the outset;

Unguarded; lust defeating intellect.

I offered self, desiring the same –

Heart for heart, hand for hand, and soul for soul;

Love enkindling passion without shame;

Intense spirits blazing beyond control.

But, yearning could not win respect, and pleas

Fell on ears deaf to solicitation.

Emotion withered, leaving me lonely,

As desolation replaced devotion.

   Despite intention pure, and honor sworn,

   Everything was too much to ask for.

Angry Muses

By Bud Koenemund

I fear the Muses have abandoned me;

Withdrawing with them that inspiration

Given so freely when I praised beauty

And love in songs of foolish emotion.

The cause ignored, those Nine of myth recede

In solidarity with their sister;

Mortal, though no less capable to breed

Lyric – a tenth goddess whose whispers stir.

This penance – punishment for protecting

My heart – has crippled both rhythm and rhyme;

As words wither, a poet disaffects

Life sans verses gifted past midnight’s chime.

   Her voice has faded from my memory,

   While creation crumbles in fantasy.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part VI: Freedom)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Shall a heart incandescent with love be

Consumed by hate? Must one choke the other –

Torment equaling passion’s quantity –

‘Til embers of desire are smothered;

Expiring sans wisp, ash, smoke, or rack –

Token corporeal to signify

Its extinction? Ignored, fervor turns black,

Eclipsing all that light once beautified.

Respect died in a doppelganger’s eye;

Could I not see myself mirrored in him?

Recalling what might have been magnified

My grief, but catharsis yielded freedom.

   Two decades lost can never be regained,

   Though affection lives again unconstrained.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part V: Repentance)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Oh, Lady; I believed, and so oft’ swore

My passion, like the stars, would never cool –

Thy heart held in mine, forever adored.

Alas, love, once more, has proved me a fool.

These words have grown repetitive; complaints

Monotonous – despite intention pure –

And fervor neglected has finally waned,

For you could not be mine as I was yours.

The offense lies tattooed upon my soul –

Indelible, and irredeemable –

As life, it seems, demands a monstrous toll;

Leaving voice censured, and mind unstable.

   I do at last repent that affection;

   Praying some power will grant redemption.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part IV: Language Lesson)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

‘Twas a muse who rendered my words useless;

Those I believed most sacred impotent

‘Fore her indifference, and each success

Tainted by reality: a heart rent;

Left without the one thing it desires;

Unable to woo, and incapable

Of forgetting; left burning in fires

Stoked by my own hand – inescapable

Torment. The pen, they say, wields more power

Than a sword, but passionate language pales

Compared to self-doubt, and fortune lours

O’er my naiveté as love lies veiled.

   The scars of this lesson may never heal;

   Wounds remaining forever uncongealed.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part III: Insufficiency)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

In truth, Muse, I dread thy inspiration;

The mid-night whisperings that tease my ear,

Once more igniting flames of obsession –

A passion undiminished despite years

Neglected; left smoldering and alone.

I must confess, ‘tis not thy tongue I fear,

And rather should embrace the songs you’ve sown –

Sacred melodies I alone can hear –

But, shame lives in my insufficiency:

Knowing mere words are unequal to your

Grace, and their praise oft’ falls short lyrically.

For this sin, thy pardon I do implore.

   These rhymes – unworthy of the page they stain –

   Serve as reminders of love never gained.

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.

Love: 1998 - 2016 (Part I: Madness)

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

I do protest my zeal was not madness –

Distemper brought about by attraction.

In truth, I knew no way to love you less,

And rendered unreserv’d devotion.

The falling – fault confirmed, beyond mending –

Served to resurrect a spirit undone;

Some magic kindling passion contending

‘Gainst the fire of twenty thousand suns.

But, weakness infected that desire;

Yearning for all, corrupted everything;

Fervor becoming fuel for a pyre

Reducing adoration to mourning.

   How oft’ can I offer you these same lines,

   Before both heart and intellect resign?

Extant

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Exalting grace is a poet’s duty –

Offering words of praise to birth legend.

History abounds with these deeds; beauty

Glorified; in art forever blazoned.

‘Tis said Helen’s face launched a thousand ships;

That Juliet’s bright cheek would shame the stars,

And Aphrodite’s excellence eclipsed

All – ‘gainst whom even porcelain was marred.

But, I protest your fair is fairer still;

Possessing somehow a charm unsurpassed.

While unseen, your mem’ry abides, and will

Endure though millennia have elapsed.

   Immortality is not mine to grant;

   Yet, this and thee live on in love extant.

Memories of You Always Begin with a Smile

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Memories of you always begin

With a smile; thoughts springing forth to curve

My lips: your laugh; whispers; treason kindled

In the dark; brown eyes; that Clapton song still serves.

For a moment – beautiful, though fleeting –

I see your face, and recall the joy of

First sight; offering my heart, not heeding

The warnings given – a fool blind in love.

Sadly, this pleasure cannot live without

Anguish, and gossamer visions spoil

As what might have been, but never was, routs

These daydreams, leaving affection soiled.

   Remembrance endures, the more torment mine,

   For time has yet to purge you from my mind.

She Didn't Love Me the Way I Loved Her

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

She didn’t love me the way I loved her;

That truth is as simple as it is stark.

Yet, this acceptance can’t spark will censured,

Nor provide solace to my broken heart.

An ecstasy birthed at first sight was marred –

Devotion became steeped in a cauldron

Of pain – tortured by eyes ‘twould shame mere stars.

Deceived, desire led too near those suns,

And as passion soared, sanity melted;

Burned away in fires of apathy.

Still, madness can’t erase the fondness felt

While affection lives on in memory.

   Respect oft’ spoils through indifference,

   But, what’s pure won’t dim to maleficence.

The Modern Prometheus

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

What a fool I was to think you my muse!

Believing any mortal could possess

Such grace – a goddess divine; of virtue

Celestial, and spirit unsuppressed.

I swore by your imagined perfection;

Seeking to prove devotion with sonnets

Forged in the fever of self-delusion –

Earning instead shame I fear infinite.

And, like the modern Prometheus, ‘twas

Inevitable this creation would

Destroy my mind, leaving me to puzzle

O’er that emotion most misunderstood.

   Despite defect, my passion was no lie;

   But, love neglected will wither and die.

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.