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
7 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.
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!
I feel your clack-clack clacking as we speak.😀
Sounds like the Smith Corona one I used back in the day!
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.
I feel the clack-clacking too
Love this visual description with the added sounds, Brings back memories of simpler times. The chipping paint telling “a tale of use” is exquisite.