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Sue Malone Hayes
When I was a little girl, my father would sit me on his lap, in his deep, red leather chair, and read to me every night. He was academic to his fingertips and at that time was teaching and working toward his Ph.D. He read me poetry. When I was young, funny ones, like The Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat, and later serious works by Hopkins and Donne, Yeats and Whitman, and so many others. I loved every minute of it…I was also a classical pianist, giving my first solo concert at six. I guess I was made for a world that had already ceased to exist, but the man I was meant to marry was growing up half a world away in Ireland and he had such a similar upbringing. I wrote my first poetry just about the same time I wrote my first music; nineteen, and already knowing that both "the words" and "the music" were in me, and I must be available to let them find expression. Now in my sixties, badly crippled by an autoimmune disease, I am grateful for faith, for family in my husband and two wonderful adult children, for friends and for music and poetry, which sweeten the journey. One of the questions I could choose to answer was "What will you do with the prize money?" That’s an easy one. We have very needy families in our church who struggle to put food on the table and shoes on their children’s feet. That bothers me a great deal, since I have never had a day in my life where I worried if I were going to eat or have a place to sleep or be able to go to college or put one foot in front of the other. The money will go to our parish fund for “the needy families” and I know that our Father Bill knows where it will do the most good. I have been truly blessed. As Meister Eckhart, a medieval theologian wrote, "If you only said one prayer…thank you…it would be enough."
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WelcomeWorld Poetry Movement is an organization that promotes and encourages the art of poetry among amateur poets. Our mission is to eliminate the traditional barriers that prevent most people from having their message heard.
Poetry Quote of the DayIts snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.
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