Grief

By Bud Koenemund

Grief will never refuse a chance to sneak
Up on me – quickening darkness; breeding
Sorrow; tearing apart defenses weak;
Leaving sanity broken and bleeding.
It taints the verses of a thousand songs;
Barely remembered poems can spark life;
Trapping my mind amidst numberless wrong
Turns – where memory waits with whetted knife.
This monster aims not to kill, but open
Wounds thought healed by time; renewing my pain.
Misery, faded – almost forgotten –
Returns, overwhelming what peace I’ve gained.
   Someday, one hopes, suffering may convert;
   For now, there are no days it doesn’t hurt.

Guilty in Silence

By Bud Koenemund

For Arthur H. Monigold

He told me not to tell, and I didn’t.

His own grandson – once untainted; trusting –

Protecting a monster whose sin imprints

The soul, poisoning innocence with lust;

Breeding this maelstrom raging through my brain:

Lightning strikes of emotion – wrath and shame;

Hate and self-doubt – a tempest unconstrained.

Yet, misery lurks darkest in that blame

I carry for silence. An accomplice

To evil; remaining mute as he forced

This curse upon others; rending solace

From family: a guilt beyond recourse.

   Though my flesh bears no scar, memory steals

   Peace with injuries time will never heal.

Frankenstein

By Bud Koenemund

“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine

and rage the likes of which you would not believe.”

– Mary Shelley

There is, too oft’, a war within my mind;

‘Twixt Good and Evil; the Dark Side and Light;

Intellect struggling to resist blind

Ignorance as shadows obscure the right.

Like poison unchecked, discontent infects

My soul, arousing inhumanity;

A monster existing disaffected

Toward empathy, risking insanity.

Why must I continue this conflict ‘gainst

Self, denied solace in another’s hand;

Some being like me to re-kindle sense,

Restore hope, and grant ease from life’s demands?

   Solitude only nourishes my rage,

   And bitterness grows as love dies away.