[the Writing of Kuypers]    [JanetKuypers.com]    [Bio]    [Poems]    [Prose]

Watch the YouTube video (2:26) Live at Mercury Cafe, live in Chicago 02/16/08

Listen to & download this track from the CD release from the DMJ Art Connection, The Things They Did To You.

Order this iTunes track from the poetry audio CD Hope Chest In The Attic 13 Years of Poetry & Prose ...Or order the entire CD set from iTunes:

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem the Cycle) at Poetry’s “Love Letter” in Chicago 5/85/15 (filmed with a Canon fs200 camera)

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poem the Cycle) at Poetry’s “Love Letter” in Chicago 5/85/15 (filmed with a Canon Power Shot camera)

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poems the Muse, the Messiah and the Cycle at Poetry’s “Love Letter” in Chicago 5/85/15 (filmed with a Canon fs200 camera)

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her poems the Muse, the Messiah and the Cycle at Poetry’s “Love Letter” in Chicago 5/85/15 (filmed with a Canon Power Shot)

See YouTube video 1/8/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poem the Cycle from her book Hope Chest in the Attic live at the open mic Poetry Plus at Cianfrani’s in Austin (filmed from a Canon Power Shot camera)

See YouTube video 1/8/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poem the Cycle from her book Hope Chest in the Attic live at the open mic Poetry Plus at Cianfrani’s in Austin (filmed from a Nikon CoolPix S7000 camera)

See YouTube video 1/8/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poems the Cycle, Wedding Lost and the Page (to inspiration) from her book Hope Chest in the Attic live at Austin’s Poetry Plus open mic at Cianfrani’s (Canon)

See YouTube video 1/8/16 of Janet Kuypers reading her poems the Cycle, Wedding Lost and the Page (to inspiration) from her book Hope Chest in the Attic live at Austin’s Poetry Plus open mic at Cianfrani’s (Nikon)

The Cycle It all came to her like this: she remembered when she was a child coloring eggs for Easter, wire spoons dipping into the cup; colors of spring and happiness left to dry on a newspaper. And she would always steal some away to eat before Sunday. And she would hide the pastel shell in the trash, the evidence, and she’d hide the yolk, too. She only liked the white of it. And then she remembers the onion skins, boiling eggs wrapped in layers of skin dyed them beautiful shades of brown, like the amber beads in mother’s jewelry chest, the variations of color, trapped by nature, captured by ourselves. And she remembers as a child listening to the McKinleys, an older pair with stories of Panama, Mexico. They had so many foreign stories to tell: once they gave her an egg for Christmas, a carnival egg, with the inside blown out, filled with confetti, covered in colorful crepe paper. She made her own, relished in cracking them over people’s heads. But she saved theirs. And now she stands in the kitchen, scrambling them for morning meal, yellow and white, the colors in the nursery for the child still inside of her. She can feel the kicking now. And she wants to know if she can give the color, the stories, bring the cycle of life around for her little one. And she puts breakfast once again on the plate. Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.