This Sonnet is an Act of Resistance

By Bud Koenemund

This sonnet is an act of resistance;
Creation wrought to defy corruption;
Art standing naked before ignorance;
While, it seems, the world bends toward destruction.
This sonnet is an act of defiance
Against Fascism’s blind obedience –
Hatred, racism, and intolerance.
These words speak for those forced into silence.
This sonnet is an act of protest;
A lament rising above the maelstrom,
As its foul shadow shrouds all in distress,
And one man makes our Republic a kingdom.
   This sonnet is an act of confidence;
   A faith time will excise maleficence.

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.

Every Generation Remembers

By Bud Koenemund

For those who do not know peace.

Every generation forgets
Stories their fathers told; evoking horrors
Beyond the pale of humanity; debts
Recalled with cold sweat; mem’ries forever
Seared into their minds; invisible scars
Borne; never quite healing despite years passed.
This curse entices the young toward valor;
A supposed glory they think will last.
So, those terrible lessons must be learned
Again; steeped in blood, and death, and madness;
Where the dead are free, but survivors yearn
For solace: a peace they’ll never possess.
   Each age is destined to fan war’s embers:
   Every generation remembers.

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?

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.

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.

Voices

By Bud Koenemund

The voices are always louder at night;
When I’m alone; vulnerable to their
Influence; criticism which ignites
Self-doubt and –hatred; heightening despair.
Too oft’, these condemnations seem substance:
“You’re not worth affection.” “Who could love a beast?”
“She’s out of your league.” “You have no chance!”
“Why try?” “Just give up, and accept defeat.”
The enemies inside grow insistent –
A treason battering weak defenses –
Overwhelming what little resistance
I can offer to protect my senses.
   How does one combat a mind seditious;
   Obscuring reason with thoughts malicious?

Liberty's Sunrise

 By Bud Koenemund

A haiku to celebrate the election of Joseph R. Biden

Inspired by Catherine Harren Barufaldi

Blue Eyes Blue

By Bud Koenemund

For K.

I see the sadness hidden in your eyes;

A pain you try to bury, which lurks still;

Nearer the surface than you know; disguised,

Yet visible; lingering ‘gainst thy will.

Heartbreak and loneliness are compounding

Sorrows; breeding doubt; confusing every

Setback with tragedy; poisoning

The soul. But, trust time will dull memory,

Allowing you to heal. Made whole once more;

Emerging stronger; by love enfolded;

The gleam renewed in those sapphire orbs –

Shining like sunlight thawing Winter’s cold.

   My intent is these verses bring delight;

   A smile, if brief, to draw day from night.

Words, Words, Words

Love is a Weapon

We're Writers

Lemon Meringue Pie

The Scars Remain

The Only Way I Know How

Light and Darkness

What Makes Me Write?