Sunday, April 18, 2010

Rubaiyat Stanzas & Objective Correlative

Armpit

It is a sweaty thing,
And you can make it sing
With just a single poke.
But know it will not bring

You flowery smells, instead
A putrid stench and dread
At what is lurking close.
Yet still I keep unsaid

My stinky fears and dwell
Within the cave, excel
In praising shunned body parts.
To me, you are so swell.

Justine Bienkowski

Free Verse

Magnolia Tree

I wait all year for the magnolia to bloom.

The flowers do not stay for long,
Fleeting in their humbling visit, like Fall,
But I do not call them "tease,"
Simply a temporary gift,
A thing to look forward to
On chilled, snowy days.

The magnolia is formidable in bloom,
Robust, giving--I want to give myself
To the pink plumes.
The petals float to the ground,
Lay limp after their days are up.
Swollen with past possibility,
Seeming to be good enough to slurp
Onto my tongue to
Engulf and swallow
Like pink worms gliding down
My gullet.

I was too late for magnolias this year,
So sullenly I perspire, imagine
The petals on the trees instead of
Dead
On the ground
Dead.
I lay my head on top the mass grave,
Peer at the teasing tree.
I swelter and fall from my tree, too,
Fall into a pile of leftover perfume.

Justine Bienkowski

Free Verse

Telephone

She said--
I had a dream I remembered your face.
I ran alongside you like a mustang, everywhere,
And I pressed your hand.
I remembered your lost face.

May the guy who invented the telephone
Have a place in Heaven next to God.

I can't help but laugh.
I remember her eyes,
Not the color, but soft--
All of her was soft
Except the sharp bones.

A loveless marriage
Would have left another crippled

But instead she took her wrinkles,
Spreading them out like a blanket,
And covered all others with love.

She told me once that Forgiveness
Was for the sake of the Forgiver,
Not the Forgiven.
An opening act, a release.

Justine Bienkowski

Allegory

The Worst Roommate

It is a fact of nature:
A roommate is inherently the worst, without cure.
But when he is a shade of green
And calls himself Envy, a mean gleam
Twinkles in his eye and all is lost.
When he slows his movements to a crawl, crossed
You must be, for Sloth has become a figment of your couch!
The silverware will pile, the garbage will rot, your pouch
Of cookies will be devoured, for Gluttony is not far.
Pray you do not room with Lust, else mar
Your morals. Keep holy yourself and beware the threat
Of Pride--he will build you up to tear you down. Let
Not your whims be compiled! Greed also lurks
In dark corners of shared apartments, coveting the irks
And covering smirks. Be careful if you've met all these,
For the last, Wrath, is hard to please.
He will berate, he will clench. But if you've not found him
Just look to your brim.

Justine Bienkowski