Janet Kuypers

Molybdenum, Periodic Table poem by Janet Kuypers

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Molybdenum

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#035;042, Mo)

I love this country.
We should protect our rights.

 
Gotta love
our military-
industrial
complex.

 
We gotta protect ourselves —

I’ll use everything I can
to be the one on top.

 
I know I’ve used you,

but it was wartime,
you gotta understand.

 
You gave me speed,

You were light on your feet,
but stiff as a board.

 
When things got hot,
you stood up to anything.

 
and I liked flexing my muscles with you.

 
I know it was wartime,

but I would have
made a Japanese sword outa you,

if I coulda put you together right.

 
And I know, I know,
you say I need you
for all my amino acids

to keep my innerds running,

 
but I’m still on my war-kick here,

‘cause when it’s war time,
that’s when I need you most.

 
People say that war’s no good,

but I say
you’re the meaning of life.

 
I love the U. S. of A.,

and with you by my side,
we can shove a boot up their ass —

it’s the American way.

Tin, a Periodic Table poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Tin

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#050, Sn)
(sung to a beat)

If I only had a brain

if I only had a brain

I’d get out from under
this bent tin roof
that covers me
as I sleep at night

tin metal sheets
keep the rain away
but the wind

but the wind

if I only had a brain

I wouldn’t use
my old tin cup
to stand and face east
at Canal and Randolph
and ask for change

I wait for commuters
to cross the Chicago river
to get to their train

you see, I wait
at the other side
and the ones with the money
have to walk right by

that’s when I rattle
my old tin cup
give them doe eyes
say “God bless”

but if I only had a brain
I wouldn’t rattle
my tin cup
and ask for tin change
I’d get myself up

if I only had a brain

I’d have a lot of money
I’d eat at fancy restaurants
I’d wear the plastic bib

if I only had a brain
I wouldn’t be poor
drinking
tin cans of Fanta
eating
soup from a tin can
living
on Tin pan alley

if I only had a brain

you might bend me
but I just won’t break
‘cause if I had a brain
then I’d be great

Scandium, poem by Janet Kuypers

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Scandium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series — #021, Sc

You have been so rare to me.
I’ve wanted to know you,
I’ve wanted to see you,
but you’re more common in the sun
than you are right here,
and the only way you’re made
is in the explosion of supernovae.

The scant amounts of you
the entire world knew
were once used in Russia,
prepping for cold war battle.

And you may be strong,
you may give us strength,
but your more violent strengths
come from your creation,
in a burst of radiation
that outshines the galaxy.

I know you’re more common in our sun,
but the energy in a supernova’s explosion
equals all of the energy our sun ever releases.

That’s where you come from.
And that’s why I’m drawn to you.
That’s why I want to know you.
Besides, even though we beat the USSR,
we’ll hedge our bets
to understand you
for any strengths we can get.

Bismuth poem by Janet Kuypers

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Bismuth

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#083, Bi)

I heard NASA scientists say
that Albert Einstein dismissed some of his theories.

That Einstein didn‚t like some of his theories
because he thought they weren‚t beautiful.

And it makes me wonder:
what is beauty?

Is it how the silver-pink hue of Bismuth
tarnishes into an iridescent oxide
refracting colors from soothing pink
to bright yellow
to a deep blue?

Einstein believed
“The most beautiful thing
we can experience
is the mysterious.
It is the source
of all art and science.”

And scientifically,
no other metal is more naturally
diamagnetic than Bismuth.

I know, I know, Bismuth is diamagnetic
and it‚s not the magnetism of Bismuth
that causes the Aurora Borealis
from the Earth‚s magnetic field…

But trust me,
from what I‚ve seen,
no other element
can naturally produce
such an awe-inspiring
brightly rainbow-colored
stair-step crystal.

So we ask, what is beauty?

They say that beauty
is in the eye of the beholder.
So, it makes me wonder.

Astatine in a Fantastic Car Crash

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Astatine in a Fantastic Car Crash

by Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series

And our life is one big road trip now,
and we set the cruise control
and make our way down the expressway.

And most of the time we’re just moving
in a straight line, and the scenery
blurs. There’s nothing to see.

But I know what’s inside of you
and I know what you’re made of.
There’s no such thing as a calm with you.

You are a fantastic car crash.
You stop traffic in both directions —
In your twisted way, you come from the decay

of others… And what do you leave
in your wake? More radioactive destruction,
as all around you slows down to stare,

and all the gapers gawk, as the decay grows.

Everything shatters with you, you know.
It’s a spectacular explosion,
until your instability corrodes you down

to the basics in the world. And yeah,
what was left of you after you were gone
is so much more stable than what you were,

but still, I’d duck and cover
as metal flies through the air. Every time
you leave the scene of the accident,

I am left picking up the shards of glass
from the windows. You know, the glass breaks
into such tiny little pieces. They look like ice.

It takes so long to pick up the pieces,
and even though I’m careful,
I’m still picking up the pieces

after dealing with only fractional amounts of you.
I’ve only been able to infer what you’re like
by knowing your brethren,

while I’m stuck here, picking up the pieces,
and I’m still on my knees.
The glass cuts into my hands,

because it was only after so much
of your destruction that you left blood
dripping down to the street.

think of this as your contribution,
this radioactive short-term flash of decay…
think of this as your contribution

to this fantastic car crash
that is you, that is me,
that is us.

I’ve tried to learn, I’ve tried to study
these microscopic parts of you
to make sense of you…

But whether or not you ever leave enough,
despite your destruction,
despite this decay of yours,

I have to keep reminding myself
that when it comes to you,
This is what you do.

This happens all the time.
So,
I to pull the glass from my hands

and I wave my hand to the line of traffic:
go ahead, keep driving, this happens
all the time, there’s nothing to see here.

“from Hydrogen to Nothing”, periodic table poem by Janet Kuypers

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from Hydrogen to Nothing

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#085, At)
(with references to the poem “Fantastic Car Crash”, 7/3/98)

Love is like tap water,
free flowing…
Remember when you were little,
just put a glass under the faucet
and quench your thirst?

Wait a minute,
it’s not like that.
Water isn’t free.
You even have to pay
for the water in your own home,
and
it’s not even clean.

What you’re getting is dirty.
And you still have to pay for it.

#

You know, they say us humans
are like seventy percent water.

And when I think of you,
and all the time we were together —

well, if you’re seventy percent water,
I have to remember
that it wasn’t pure and clean with you.
If this was love;
if this was you —
it wasn’t free.
I’m still paying for it.

#

I mean, they say we’re mostly made of water,
Hydrogen, oxygen…
But it’s like you were
an electron from Hydrogen to me,
one electron,
spinning around
the center of me,
always keeping
an all too tight
grip on me.

I would think I was free,
and there you would be,
that one presence
I could never get rid of.

You were spinning, orbiting,
spinning my head…
You were keeping your distance,
but still,
you made sure
you were always there,
holding me down.

If we’re mostly made of water,
and you spun around me
like in that Hydrogen atom,
you kept me gasping for air.
I needed that oxygen…
I know water is Hydrogen and oxygen,
I know I’ve got it in me,
I’ve just got to keep myself together
after dealing with what you’ve done to me.

#

When we’re seventy percent water,
by mass we’re only eleven percent
Hydrogen.
So most of the mass in our body
may be oxygen…
But by an atomic percentage
we’re sixty-seven percent
Hydrogen,
meaning most of the atoms
in our bodies
are Hydrogen.

Just one electron,
spinning around that nucleus,
just spinning,
and never letting go.

#

When I now think of you,
and the fact that you made me feel like nothing —
well, I think of what you’re made of,
and I have to remember:

we’re all made of atoms,
protons and neutrons,
infinitely small,
wound tightly together in the nucleus

surrounded
at a comparatively vast distance
by occasional,
tiny,
orbiting
electrons.

So when I think of you
I have to remember
that you’re made of those atoms
with really tiny cores —
and those atoms are filled with so much space
that you’re mostly made of nothing.

When I think of you,
I remind myself of this.

When I think of the nothingness you made me feel,
and the fact that you should mean nothing to me,
this is how I must think of you.