I Make No Secret of My Desire

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

My mind, Lady, I do confess, is filled –
Both awake and in slumber – with fantasies;
Visions erotic from morn through star gilt
Night – illusions bending sanity
Toward madness – dreams that, while wanton, reveal
Subconscious adoration. This lust bears
Certain truth; passion cannot be concealed
For one with whom only Venus compares.
I make no secret of my desire;
A longing, concupiscent to be sure;
Yet, in faith, ‘tis zeal tempered by fire;
Sin purged through the flames, leaving purity.
   But, will transgression be called blasphemy,
   When praising a Goddess in ecstasy?

A Better Sonnet for Christina Alvarado

By Bud Koenemund

There are dangers every poet knows:

The Lake of Goo, and mindfields filled with words

Defective; emotion twisting their prose,

Or adherence to a form which can blur

Function – risking misinterpretation.

Still they muddle, matching rhythm and rhyme

In little songs to show admiration;

Praise courting immortality while time

Demands submission. Although memory

Will fade away, these verses shall endure

Forever – love sans ambiguity;

Bestowed with reverence and intent pure.

   Absent voice, I pen my exaltation:

   To Venus, and Muse, in celebration.

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.

The Bosom of Venus

By Bud Koenemund

For TK
(& James Franco)

Thou art, Lady, worthy of sweetest rhymes,
That might entice the bosom of Venus;
Possessing a beauty which transcends time
When thy visage serves to kindle genius.
The mysteries of inspiration lay
Beyond my ken, but I must praise thee, Muse;
As verse twirls in a lyrical ballet,
I accept thy favor without excuse.
Yet, I would trade all those words for a kiss,
And the sound of you whispering my name;
Oh, welcome desire and hasten bliss,
As souls unite, forged strong by passion’s flames.
   My sanctuary lives within thy breast;
   A place I pray my heart may find its rest.

A Sonnet as Apology to Christina Alvarado

Pray, pardon this inarticulate fool,
Struck dumb gazing upon Venus’ face.
I’ll strive to bestow, with God given tools,
Flowery words to match your Thespian grace;
The tempest past, for ready pen I reach,
Vainly to search for a rhyme to submit
In excuse of silence, or stutt’ring speech,
And to worship thus from paper pulpit;
Oh, sweet Muse, fire of my fevered mind,
Judge me gently and allow me to vie
To once more feel your gentle hand in mine,
And gain one more look in your timeless eyes.
Accept these weak lines of admiration,
For I could not give voice in exaltation.