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.

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?

Seen

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

"In the right eyes, you will be art." - Unknown

How could any set of eyes miss the art
Contained within you? Even those who don’t
Create illumined by you feel your heart:
Acknowledging grace as artists are wont.
Though it is, in truth, the job of poets
To praise beauty; ‘tis thy inspiration –
Arising from your spirit, more than my wit –
That gives birth to these celebrations
Of radiance. All things, seen and unseen;
Love and lust; denial and desire;
The chaos of black, white, and gray between,
Feed the maelstrom of a mind set fire.
   I must give credit where credit is due:
   The world will know these words belong to you.

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.

Half

By Bud Koenemund

Half of my heart is still in love with you;
A notion foolish as it is sincere,
When that affection’s forever imbued
By sadness: growing more and more austere.
Half of my mind is still in love with you;
Yet condemned to recall happier days,
‘Fore passion incandescent went askew;
Leaving intellect and sanity razed.
Half of my soul still belongs to you;
Though ‘tis now mortal – crushed beyond the repair
Time can grant; a solace long overdue –
As I stumble about in my despair.
   I seek a peace I fear I’ll never find,
   While memory and shadow intertwine.

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.

When Forever Doesn't Mean Forever

By Bud Koenemund

Words often evolve over centuries;
Rising and falling while meanings altered.
Some are lost in language’s vagaries,
Disappearing, to be re-discovered
In not-always-ancient texts; re-defined –
Even the victim of mistranslation –
Gaining life hence as lexicons refine;
Embraced for use by new generations.
But, I believed one word inviolate;
Sacred and immune to fate’s quickening;
Spoken always without fear or regret,
Until the day I learned love means nothing.
   How does a heart find strength to persevere,
   When forever doesn’t mean forever?

Wanton Ambling Nymphs

By Bud Koenemund

I fear perfect love is but fantasy;
A fiction dwelling solely in my brain;
Some trick of the mind’s creativity –
That domain where wanton ambling nymphs reign
O’er intellect; suffused by fairy tales
Oft’ ending happily ever after:
Though illusions inevitably fail
When affection’s nativity yields hurt.
These dreams ne’er align with reality,
As I awake confined in loneliness.
Yet, this despair does afford clarity –
A recognition of unworthiness.
   Time’s passage will prove no balm for my soul;
   I am left without cure to make me whole.

No More Desire for Light

By Bud Koenemund

I know one way to express devotion:
Offering my entire heart and soul –
Withholding nothing; risking emotion
Perilous; braving passion uncontrolled
By intellect. And, the cost has become
Too dear as torment strips vitality,
Inducing me to wish all feeling numbed –
Surrender slouching toward finality.
In truth, love has caused me nothing but pain.
Though, I doubt any revelation
Of zeal could bring joy when such unrestrained
Affection only invited destruction.
   I will feign no more desire for light;
   Leaving my soul abandoned and blighted.

Remember to Forget

By Bud Koenemund

I wish I could remember to forget –
Awakening one day, finally free:
My mind unbound, and Reason manumit;
No more a prisoner of memory.
But, what liberty would that erasure
Provide? Only temporary respite?
Or, a balm healing the wounds I’ve endured;
Allowing re-birth of spirit and wit?
Time, I fear, will never grant me solace –
Peace has yet to suffuse my weary soul.
Indeed, though years have burned away apace,
Your absence still exacts a grievous toll.
   Recollection brings you back to my brain,
   E’en as I seek deliverance from pain.

We Said Our Goodbyes

By Bud Koenemund

Of course, I had to see you walk away –
My eye drawn to you like a firefly’s
Light in darkness – while memory replayed
The moment when passion withered and died.
Of course, I had to see you walk away;
Enduring one more stab in the heart.
Unable to simply go about my day:
You’d just be gone; leaving me torn apart.
Of course, I had to see you walk away.
We’d said our goodbyes already. But fate
Wouldn’t allow peace, and time won’t belay
Pain. Still, I’ll not let my love become hate.
   Each day, I seek to put sadness behind;
   E’en as your absence constantly reminds.

All the Words in the World

By Bud Koenemund

How oft’ did verses take birth in your eyes;
As if each glimpse granted inspiration?
I prayed those poems to Heaven would fly,
And sway thy bosom with proofed affection.
I wanted, for us, immortality –
Bestowing fame lasting beyond our years;
This ambition surpassing vanity:
More a devotion of toil and tears.
In the end, though, my efforts achieved
Nothing but changing pain for passion true;
When desire conspired to deceive
An ever foolish man who dared love you.
   This song mourns the impotence of my art;
   For all the words in the world won’t win your heart.

Pain

By Bud Koenemund

For T.

There is no pain like love unrequited –
Suffering which follows passion denied –
Save torment found in longing unvoic’d;
An anguish the heart endures in silence.
Indeed, these agonies hurt equally;
Each torturing body, spirit, and soul;
Impossible for mortal man to quell
Before that day when fate’s final bell tolls.
‘Tis no secret this emotion is fraught
With danger – a leap leaving all exposed
In hopes another will share the same thought:
Becoming one from two; by love enclosed.
   No solace inhabits a mind abused;
   Tell her, or do not – I can only lose.

Touch

By Bud Koenemund

For T.

The electricity of fingertips
Brushing ‘gainst my back creates a maelstrom
In the mind. Rationality is stripped
Away while intellect sputters – struck dumb.
What words can I use to describe your touch;
When every attempt, it seems, falls short;
Leaving language languishing as I clutch
At rhythm and rhymes? I give praise to court
Thy favor, but remain ever aware
Your hand is forbidden to mine; a fact
My brain accepts – though it flays the heart bare,
And sanity spirals in cataract.
   This verse can make no claim to innocence;
   Nor should be damned as mere concupiscence.

Hunger

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

I’ll never again feign lust innocence;
Nor pretend my intentions remain pure.
Rather, I admit this concupiscence;
A heat impossible to endure
When both body and mind burn with desire.
I fear an inferno will engulf all;
Demanding ever more, as the fire
Blazes beyond control. I am enthralled –
My hunger increasing with ev’ry taste –
Being consumed, yet yearning further; the toll
A consequence eagerly embraced,
As I surrender my eternal soul.
   Your perfection would tempt angels toward sin,
   And bring devils back to the light again.

Variations on a Theme

By Bud Koenemund

‘Tis true, I must confess, many of these
Little songs seem only variations
On a theme – rhythms, with rhymes meant to please
The eye: imperfect stabs at perfection.
Yet, what idea, save love, could entice
Such verse prolific; praise so inspired;
Promises of passion and sacrifice,
Whether facing Heaven or hellfire?
I do fear repetition may dampen
A heart’s assessment of sincerity;
Though that judgment will never lessen
Zeal; nor taint these musings with perversity.
   My form is rough; iambs full of defects;
   But, pray, let this not detract from respect.

Fire Cannot Feed Upon Itself

By Bud Koenemund

With apologies to Galway Kinnell

Fire cannot feed upon itself. Lacking
Fuel to sustain, it will suffocate;
Dying away – light dwindling toward black –
As flames, once furious, quickly abate.
To make it burn, I threw my whole self in;
Sacrificing pride; nourishing our spark;
Then realized I could never kindle
Passion matching mine; that knowledge a stark
Reminder of the wasteland devotion
Leaves behind – solitude seared in my soul;
Scorched by incendiary emotion,
While embers, neglected too oft’, grow cold.
   The love extinguished cannot be renewed;
   Yet, memory smolders with thoughts of you.

From Crush to Crushed (Part VI): One Lie

By Bud Koenemund

“I just want you to be happy.” I lied.
The first, and only, one I told her;
After ruin inevitably denied
Those flames I fought to kindle – smoldering
Embers never reaching incandescence.
It’s bullshit. I know it. She knows it, too.
Still, it’s what you offer – at pride’s expense –
When there’s nothing else to say; naught to do.
Yet, even in this deception lives truth;
Despite betrayal, I cannot wish pain
On a soul once adored, but seek to soothe
Their conscience, while my own heart is constrained.
   I can’t pretend as if I didn’t care;
   Obliterating the affection dared.

From Crush to Crushed (Part V): The Other Shoe

By Bud Koenemund

Right from our start, I knew how this would end:
The only way it can for guys like me…
Though I hoped ‘gainst hope passion could transcend
A past of loss – erasing misery –
Intellect recognized the bitter truth,
And shouted warnings which went unheeded;
Burying a soul in despair unsoothed,
When your turn pronounced my love unneeded.
Sadly, even if it’s true, “I never
Intended to hurt you” doesn’t lessen
This pain I feel. Those words wound forever
The heart a fool left in your possession.
   I composed verses praising her beauty,
   Unaware of how ugly she could be.

From Crush to Crushed (Part IV): Idiot

By Bud Koenemund

"Everyone's heart is an idiot." - Thomas Paris

My heart, I fear, has played the fool again;
Deceived by lies; left inconsolable,
After desire o’re sense gained free reign,
And malice made passion disposable.
How many times can a heart survive
Being broken – shattered anew – before
Surrendering; refusing revival
Only to stumble on forever torn?
If everyone’s heart is an idiot,
Why seems it especially so with mine?
In the book of love found illiterate;
Destined to be alone by fate malign.
   Affection oft’ exacts a dreadful cost;
   Intellect is crushed and sanity lost.