Muse No More

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You were the brightest light in a Heaven
Of stars – one whose brilliance outlasted morn.
Thy invention made my garden Eden;
A paradise somehow fashioned of worn
Rhymes. Indeed, so oft' did thoughts of you guide
My pen, the world might presume you poet,
And I mere scrivener. Within thy eyes
Lived all my words, and in those words the debt
I'll e'er owe thee. But, deceit lay coiled
In this oasis – neglect at its side.
By one, trust will only molder to spoil;
By the other's poison, affection dies.
   Thy graces with quill I did long adore,
   Though, for want of truth, thou art muse no more.

Il Mio Respiro

For "Her."

In truth, my words are writ by thy fingers.
Is it not you who first taught me to love;
Who enchanted me while my eyes lingered
On thine, and kindled a flame undreamt of?
What glory can be mine when the sound
Of your voice arouses my pen? O, spark
Imagination by thy touch; and compound
Thee little songs with kisses in the dark.
Lady, though I fear my desires blaspheme
Love, I pray by such devotion you know:
Your breath is my breath, your dreams are my dreams,
And your body houses my very soul.
O, Muse; O, Fire; O, living passion;
Thou art my bright heaven of invention.