Poems

typewriter

I should have a typewriter, a paper
guide to show my words home
as they fall
effortlessly on the page, accompanying
the sound of keys playing accordion
under my fingers.

I should turn a roller knob, a paper
rest to cradle my words convalescing
as they sit
orderly on the page, finding
permanence as the carriage return
bounds off my palm.

I should write a poem, a paper
record to take down my words alive
as they imbue
meaning on the page, spooling
ribbons of brightly colored emotions
in your hands.


Written as part of the Poets United Midweek Motif to reclaim so-called “old-fashioned hobbies.” While typewriters may be old-fashioned, poetry lives on.

14 thoughts on “typewriter”

  1. This is sheer brilliance, every line! I sometimes miss the old days of using a typewriter…I liked the one with the ball of letters, symbols on it–way cool!

    Like

  2. Beautiful poem and tribute to a seemingly forgotten jewel of the past. The typewriter is such a romanticized machine and it is, romantic in a sense, but it shouldn’t be. In my opinion, it’s one of the most intimidating machines in our history. You write one word down wrong, or you find that your alignment’s off, that’s it. There’s no delete button. I say this as a proud owner of a 1953 Remington Quiet-Riter. I love my Remmy but he took some getting used to. I do love that I can see my progress on the page in a way that I could not using modern technology…

    Again, a beautiful poem you’ve written. Please keep writing!

    Like

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