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.

Of Ice Cream, Laughter, and "Shakespeare in Love"

A fantasy in sonnet form.

For Kristen Brownell.

Fingers trace over secret paths explored –
Each curve and cleft now mapped in memory.
Kisses and whispers linger on lips, as your
Scent drifts on an air of avidity;
With the gravity of a dying sun
We pull together, two bodies aflame;
Our flesh – now fire and fuel – joins as one,
Surrendering to this lust without shame;
Fresh hunger drives us. We consume the world,
Yet desire more as the appetite seems
To increase; even while pleasures unfurl –
Pushing our passion to the verge of dream.
This madness grows with every ragged breath,
‘Til we are enskied by our little deaths.

Two Sonnets in Eclectic Flash - September 2010

Two of my sonnets -- "A Simple Word Too Easily Said" and "Poets Never Really Die by Suicide" -- appeared in the September 2010 issue of Eclectic Flash, an online and print literary journal (eclecticflash.com/home.html).

Here is a link to the electronic version of the issue: http://issuu.com/eclecticflash/docs/vol_1_sep_2010?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Flight%2Flayout.xml&showFlipBtn=true

My works are on pages 13 and 40.

Enjoy.

A Simple Word Too Easily Said

For Kristen Brownell

Lord, how can so small a word cause such pain?
Indeed, the gift becomes too abstract when
Words, easily said, fall like drops of rain
On the ocean, and fool even wise men;
Oh, how the promises the heart believes,
When it dares to hope, break upon the rocks
Of high speech – but feelings only conceived –
Then sink down into the depths of self-mock;
Verses and oaths so quickly lose their worth
When once solemn pledges become dilute
Through casual repetition and dearth
Of the emotion real and absolute.
Even sweet words, spoke too oft’, turn sour,
And kill the root of this precious flower.