Berkelium, a poem from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series by Chicgo poet Janet Kuypers

by

Berkelium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#79, Bk)
(started 8/15/14, finished 8/22/14)

The streets of town were paved with stars,
it was such a romantic affair
and when we kissed and said good night
a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

A nightingale sang in Berkeley square.
Berkeley. B, E, R, K, E, L, E, Y.
You see, on the other side of the pond
the Brits have a different way of saying things,
including the name of the Anglo Irish
philosopher George Berkley.
That’s B, E, R, K, L, E, Y, like
you’re barking up the wrong tree,
but when a city and University in California
was named after this philosopher,
well, the pronunciation changed
after it crossed the ocean.
And because of scientific work done
at the University of Berkley,
they decided to name element seventy nine
after the University (it’s actually
only one of two elements in the Periodic Table
named after a university).
So, I don’t really know
how you’re supposed to pronounce it,
should I say berk-lee-um like the States,
or the British ber-keel-ee-yum,
because I’ve been trying to learn
a thing or two about Berkelium.
And the thing is, it’s never found
in it’s pure form,
because this transuranic radioactive
and artificially produced element
is a soft, silvery-white, actinide metal
that sometimes has long half lives
through it’s isotopes
(that range from microseconds to several days,
to three hundred thirty days, to nine years
to one thousand three hundred eighty years).
So maybe I’m only meant
to learn about parts of it
by these fleeting dances
scientists have with Berkelium…

poetry for peace poem

by

Yeah I’m there, man,

like a peach or a flower,
or a rock in the street,
picked up in the street
by a child and hurled at a tank,
while we visit the Hitler channel and
brag about our cluster bombs
and speak of freedom.
Whose flag?
Whose flag
shall we drape over the child?
Yours?
Mine?
And so this rock in the street, this
peach or a flower
bounces off the tank, and
falls again helplessly in the street
as helpless as this poem
as helpless as the peach or the flower or
the child

We can do this.
We can write this poem
We can read it.
for
peace
for
children and mothers everywhere.
Sing and rejoice for life
this day,
this day
and
tomorrow.
poetry for peace
poetry for peace
poetry for peace
poetry for peace

 

david michael jackson  Dec 2 2004  editors@artvilla.com

Poem Nantucket Fish Out Of Water Poem by Joan Pond

by

A Fish Out of Water

So far from ocean,

here.

No pounding waves or crashing surf.

As Nantucket weighs,

heavy and deep.

In my sleep

I hear bell-buoys.

It”s only a dehumidifier

droning,

as the engine of a ship.

Yet,

I turn and list

avoiding shoals and reefs.

Tossing in my sleep,

I”m a fish on dry land

with a sered eye

of rainbow.

Ship-wrecked.

I dream

of

home.

***

Grains of Sand Poem by Joan Pond

by

Grains Of Sand
by Joan Pond

The sound of thunder,
and I”ll stand,
transfixed,
recalling a day with no boats on a lake,
only bull-heads darted toward the underpinnings of a dock
and concentric rings of water infinitely expanding.
I shouldn”t have taken him for granted
but savoured each moment,
holding them as grains of sand
not letting them slip to shore.
That moment,
would never be repeated;
only recalled when rings of water
infinitely expand
on the surface
of a lake.

***