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.

Tempus Fugit

By Bud Koenemund

In consciousness rises the poet’s plight:

Cursed with knowing time is fleeting; slipping

Past; each moment another dying light;

As, from our birth, those flames are flickering.

Days lost become years; progressing quickly,

Faded and forgotten; surrendered to

Accelerating relativity,

‘Fore the call of skills neglected renews.

Imagination yearns for expression,

And – as this journey hastens toward its end –

A stab at immortality; Passion

Racing the doom we cannot comprehend.

   Crafting perfection is my endeavor;

   Some scrap of verse that will live forever.

Ten Years Owed

By Bud Koenemund

For Arielle

Once, I presented you with broken prose –

A fool fumbling to reveal affection;

Though much remained unsaid, my heart frozen

By the fear of defeat and rejection.

Thou art fairer than any I’ve beheld;

Azure eyes, radiant as sapphires,

Charm; skin of porcelain in mem’ry dwells,

Setting imagination on fire.

Oh, Muse; these words were owed a decade past.

But, timid, I withheld, respecting age

Despite attraction; avoiding trespass

Or offense; leaving passion unengaged.

   Embers of spirit rekindle this blaze,

   And I must beg pardon for tardy praise.

Wonder

By Bud Koenemund

For Trey

What wonder fills the mind of a child;

An exuberance unbridled by doubt,

While imagination leads to wild

Adventures spanning galaxies…without

Fear of missing dinner. Inquisitive;

Hungry for the knowledge found in this world,

And others beyond reach. Intuitive;

Seeking truth as life’s mysteries unfurl

About them. Though bodies rest, thoughts hurry

Ahead. Dreams race against time to reveal

The universe before sunrise can blur

Miracles which daylight, and age, conceal.

   Youth itself kindles curiosity;

   Igniting flames of creativity.

When I Have a Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

When I have a muse, words fit perfectly;

Finding their places as if by magic,

While airy voices whisper secretly:

Poetry and prose midst verse emphatic.

I labor nonetheless, forging sonnets –

Shaping songs with odd old ends of language;

Bleeding ink on paper. This gift, honest

As it is, oft’ dooms my soul to languish;

Drifting through passionate desperation.

But, by your grace, confidence awakens:

Imagination invents expression,

And desire restores a faith shaken.

   Though form arouses creativity,

   ‘Tis thy genius which sparks my artistry.

Surprise

Actually, it's only a little more than half. ;-)

Seduction by Art

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

My ambition is seduction by art;

Tempting with lyrics that dance across skin,

As poetry speaks love from tongue to heart;

Stirring desire which blesses such sin.

Your form fires the imagination,

Shaping rhyme; verses take life in those eyes,

And a gloved hand could cause an eruption:

Expressions of fervor for one enskied.

I pray these words will arouse ecstasy –

Undressing body and mind; illicit

Acts to satiate lust: a melody

Of moans unifying flesh with spirit.

   My passion grows beyond concupiscence;

   An oath I trust will excuse this offense.

What Makes Me Write?

Jealous Muse

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

It seems each time a new muse inspires,

The old gets jealous. Imagination

Run amuck. Some unconscious desire,

Perhaps. A bit of self-flagellation;

Punishing my spirit for betraying

Memory; splintering those promises

Set down in so much ink; a mind straying,

Craving the illusion of her kisses.

Countless days past stand proof of devotion,

Or obsession – a defect of reason –

And whispers remain, reviving passion;

Resurrecting my sanity’s treason.

   Thy voice is but a ghost, I do believe,

   Though cannot deny the words I receive.

Aiding and Abetting

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

The deadliest monsters will sometimes bait;
Enticing the naïve by melodies;
Infusing ev’ry song with oaths to sate
Desire – ‘til choruses turn elegies.
The truth, it seems, is that you were never
My muse, and this poet sought creation
In a daydream; no more than some clever
Figment built by his imagination.
If it be necessary to place blame,
‘Tis my heart – deceived at first sight by eyes
Blind in worship – which merited the shame
I bear; a failure that lives undisguised.
   Many fiends hold power to make love sin,
   And, these enemies too oft’ lie within.

A Poet's Obligatory Ode to a Blank Sheet of Paper

By Bud Koenemund

At rest now, on desktop – yet, I reflect,
Not long ago part of a mighty tree –
Poised as canvas for form crafted perfect,
But oft’ revealing insufficiency.
Does it yearn, like the poet, to become
Great – an ode comparing a summer’s day;
Evening stops by snowy woods; or songs from
Lovers lamenting loss; a chance to gain
Immortality in some small measure?
When the muse speaks, and quill dances with page,
Mere words metamorphose into treasure.
A frenzied scribe ink alone can assuage,
   As they create worlds with paper and pen –
   Driving imagination beyond ken.

Love, of You, I Desire a Favor

For "Her."

Love, of you, I desire a favor;
A tattered scarf or a plain strip of lace.
Some gift to sustain me when I waver;
A light to lead me from the darkest place;
I beg some physical inspiration,
A forgotten cloth that still holds your scent.
Some token to fire imagination,
And jolt my brain when my dreams are all spent;
What I wish is only a trifle, yes;
A simple item that you’ll never miss.
This lifeless object I need, I confess,
To comfort me when I can’t have your kiss.
My Lady, I humbly pray for your love
To all the bright stars in heaven above.