Typewriter
The typewriter sits proud in its earned place
’50s paint job striking, robin’s-egg blue
Chipping here and there tells a tale of use
The cold aluminum chassis is strong and sturdy
My hands are weight-bitten setting machine in front of me
The rubber platen roll grips paper tight
Turning the knob sends vibrations through my arm
It sings a gear-ratchet melody, click-clicking a hundred times
A weighted push sends carriage to the far right
My fingers kiss the yellowed keys, and I begin to type
The clack-clack clacking an otherworldly tune
My pace picks up as I write with all my heart
Man and machine become a mechanical dance
My words printing across and down the page
When it’s over all is quiet
14 thoughts on "Typewriter"
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Fun poem. I still have and occasionally use my mother’s 1940’s Remington Rand typewriter. I also have onion skin paper.
I’ll have to try onion skin! You’re not the first to suggest it.
Love this ode to typewriter and “robin’s-egg blue
Chipping here and there tells a tale of use” and creative word creations”weight-bitten”
Really can hear this: “It sings a gear-ratchet melody, click-clicking a hundred times”
A lovely song I miss!
You should find a cheap one and clean it up! You deserve to hear that song again.
I feel your clack-clack clacking as we speak.😀
Thank you for the feedback, Linda!
Sounds like the Smith Corona one I used back in the day!
I was writing about my 1957 Royal Quiet De Luxe, but I have a Smith Corona, too. They are both strong contenders as my favorites.
I like the emphasis on weight in this poem. As one who has always had electric keyboards, its cool to imagine what others’ experiences were.
It’s a fun hobby to find them cheap and restore them. You should try and hunt one down. Nothing like writing on a typewriter.
I feel the clack-clacking too
Thanks, Mike!
Love this visual description with the added sounds, Brings back memories of simpler times. The chipping paint telling “a tale of use” is exquisite.
Thank you, Virginia! I’ll have to keep an eye out for your poem tomorrow to make sure I’m not listening to the same muse as you again…