Showing posts with label gift. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gift. Show all posts

12 February 2016

Blessed New Life

A poem to celebrate the late birth of Rebecca Lynn Koenemund:
Lady of Union, Princess of Wilshire, and Empress of Pomona.
By Bud Koenemund: Uncle, Godfather, and Lord Protector of Her Majesty’s northern possessions.

(Written: 2006)

A dawn of golden dreams spills over us,
blinding our thankful eyes with tears of joy
as Nature’s majestic sunrise,
the blessed renewal of life’s promise,
melts the winter snow leaving a new spring.
A child to tempt the voices of Angels
to sing sweet songs of hallelujah
peeks out as we, being but mortal,
stain our cheeks for lack of words
to give worthy praise for this Grace.

Reverent prayers, answered with a precious gift,
now become humble pleas for the strength
of heart to prove worthy of this perfect child.
Each seeking only to provide a lifetime of peace
and protection from the sting of worldly woe,
to love unconditionally, to cheer the smallest victory,
and soothe after the most devastating of defeats,
to teach, and quench the thirst for enlightenment,
and to celebrate the brilliant splashes of paint
that create a masterpiece from a blank canvas.

This pure soul, innocent and celestial,
brought forth in love, enters and prepares to play
the many unknown parts meant for a life.
Pink fingers, the instruments whose talent
God will reveal in his time, reach out
to grasp at nothing, and everything.
And newly opened eyes search to discover
a world both fascinating and frightening,
full of wonder, and then, reluctantly, close
to float within the first beautiful dreams of life.


07 March 2014

Two Haiku

By Bud Koenemund


In the Ear of the Beholder

For Kitty Boyce

"Fuck me!" Vulgar in
polite society. But,
welcome from your lips.

----------------------------------------

Darkness and Light

For "Her."

Some say the darkness
is as much a gift as light.
My heart disagrees.

12 May 2010

A Simple Word Too Easily Said

A sonnet for Kristen Brownell

Lord, how can so small a word cause such pain?
Indeed, the gift becomes too abstract when
Words, easily said, fall like drops of rain
On the ocean, and fool even wise men;
Oh, how the promises the heart believes,
When it dares to hope, break upon the rocks
Of high speech – but feelings only conceived –
Then sink down into the depths of self-mock;
Verses and oaths so quickly lose their worth
When once solemn pledges become dilute
Through casual repetition and dearth
Of the emotion real and absolute.
Even sweet words, spoke too oft’, turn sour,
And kill the root of this precious flower.