Thursday, November 20, 2008


Here are some pantuns I wrote:

Pumpkin Guts

It’s true I’ve always thought
That pumpkin carving was the best,
Until the whole damn lot
Of them rebelled. Oh what a mess!

Vitamins Makes Me Queasy

Vitamins are good for you,
That’s what I’ve always been told.
Yet they always seem to send me to the loo,
Since then I haven’t been so bold.

Weird Allergies

The taste of apple makes my tongue itch,
Pineapples aren’t any good either,
The taste of cherries makes me twitch,
Please someone hand me a cleaver.

Justine Bienkowski

Friday, November 14, 2008

Rubaiyat Stanzas: Ring of Fire

Ring of Fire (or, Beards are Quite Nice and I Like Them)

Begin with light so soft, streaming
between the cracks of doors, gleaming.
The bristles catch on fire
along your jaw, just like a ring

of flames, ignites profound pyres
within your eyes, full of mire.
Burn it away, say goodbye
to sorry lives and lips of ire.

Begin anew. Release a sigh,
extend a touch. As one we lie.
I thirst for life, I don’t deny
Inspired by you: your hair, your thigh.

Justine Bienkowski

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Free Verse: Rabbit Holes

Rabbit Holes

Sprinting through rain-glazed streets,
I realize
We are all rushing.
The ticks of clocks are eerie reminders
That we are always on our way to being late.

Stitching ourselves to the quilts of borrowed time
And necessary schedules,
Lists and wristwatches
Control our lives.
We are always, always rushing,
Our peripheral vision of life lost to
Dutiful habit.

We fall down rabbit holes
Drowning in dirt and little potions,
Following elusive fulfillment
For the sake of dimes and assumed responsibility
Our hearts we willfully give
To trains and rushing towards ends.

Do people only come here to die?

Wet socks attest to the need
To follow cultural rhythm,
When all I really long for
Is a chance at loving existence.

Justine Bienkowski

Friday, November 7, 2008

Neologism: Narwhal, Land, Ho!

Narwhal, Land, Ho!

Slithering through slumbering slicked slews
Of wobbling, warbling waves—
Oh, majestic sirens of the sea!

Clambering for closer clues
To finding your final few
Where whales come to wail,
And seaweed sinks to sure safety,
While icecaps and idle irises
Arise from arachnid arcs.

Your horns poking holes in honor
Of pricked pins
Needling necessary nicks.
Narwobbly, Narslithy, Narestic!

To swim the swarthy seas with you
I would jump into joggled, jangled jetties
Head over heels, unheeding of hails.

Justine Bienkowski