(008june2 07) The Silence Of The Typewriters Poem by Max Reif
(008june2 07) The Silence Of The Typewriters
It seems almost unfair
to write a poem about typewriters.
Maybe there should be a moratorium,
but before it starts:
I’ve noticed
a curious thing
about my typewriters
and my memory:
though I typed
papers and poems and stories
for at least three decades,
I can’t picture
myself doing it,
not even once.
The little portable
dad kept in his office,
the family’s noisy Smith-Corona,
and the enormous electric gizmo
I bought at an office sale,
They’ve all been relegated
to some interior warehouse
whose keys have gotten lost.
Oh, I know just what you mean! My folks bought me a typewriter when I was in school. You had to slide little bars in the back to set the margins. I worked in offices using a standard typewriter. I bought an electric from a flea market, then graduated to a word processor and now computers. I LOVE my computer! Loved this piece but we must never forget the typewriter. I wrote a poem (somewhere in PH) called Learning to Type. I remember it well. Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 8:31:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I remember all of my typewriters with great affection. They were a very important part of my life for many years. In fact, I still use my Smith-Corona to type poetry submissions to China. So...old friends ae not completely forgotten. I enjoyed this poem. Warm regards, Sandra