Some Poetry and Lists

Poetry to come, but first...I am a list person, a listist if you will, and should also invest in the post-it note industry seeing as how I am a valued customer. Imagine my delight then when Real Simple magazine's January issue featured tips on list making - nothing I don't already know - but also had composed some lists that famous people may have kept. I tried to cut and paste here, but they don't have the lists on the website...so here are my favorites:

Written by Brian Barrett, Chris Colin, Christopher Healy and Rebecca Traister,

Annie Oakley
__ Get my gun.
__ Buy more playing cards.
__ No business like show business? Confirm.
__ Try out new spur polish.
__ Go see what Frank's doing.
__ Do it better.
__ Sitting Bull's birthday tomorrow!
__ Show at 8. Shoot to thrill.

Genghis Khan
__ Pillage.
__ Plunder.
__ Have shirt taken in.
__ Pillage.
__ Pillage.
__ Seven O'Clock parent-teacher meeting.
__ Plunder.
__ Pillage.

Fred Astaire

__ Wash ceiling.
__ Take cravat-tying lessons.
__ Find something new to twirl (am tired of canes and umbrellas)
__ Buy another case of floor wax
__ Make peace with Gay Divorcee jokes.
__ Show Ginger new top hat.
__ Try to get "The Way You Look Tonight" out of head.
__ Look into this "disco" thing.
__ Apologize to downstairs neighbors.


Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

__ Powder wig.
__ Powder face.
__ Fluff ruffles.
__ Compose symphony.
__ Lunch.
__ Compose another symphony.
__ Buy some lemons; if can't find any lemons, consider bathing.
__ Chase comely lass.
__ Prepare list of witty double entrendres to use whenever people say they can't wait to see my Magic Flute.
__ Send consolation gift to Salieri. Maybe some rouge? (He never whears enough.)
__ Start playing for babies; they seem to like my stuff.



So I thought they were funny. And could be good inspiration for stories...writing exercises...hmmm.

And now for some poems. These are a couple of the ones I just sent out to The Iowa Review.

Wine Glasses
By Kelly Hayes

Things said –
he ponders
while washing
the wine glasses.

He’d said –
and been made
to feel – .
He rubs at the bar code
of a lip print.

Voices raised –
Absurdity.
But things were said.
He swirls the suds.

They’d said –
he had questioned – .
Words still roll.
He wipes dry
the wine glasses.



Cherries
By Kelly Hayes

I spit
my pit
farthest first.
Bobbing in the bay,
thoughts between us.
You spit
your pit
farther than mine,
Spoke of him, days past.
Pits under the bridge.