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David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

One-Finger Typist (Fun Poem 122)


I used to be a one-finger typist
and as the one finger wore down,
I discovered how to use two.
Finding that easy to score
and with the added bonus
of being able to play
chopsticks on the piano as well,
I decided to add a little bonus
and increased my fingers to three
and then on to four.
All on the same hand, I might add.
One day my left hand
feeling left in the lurch
decided it was going to join in
and my fingers typing doubled
to the number eight.
The thumbs then got jealous
and came into play.
Now both hands of fingers and thumbs
dance merrily across the keys,
but there I have a problem,
as they all want to press a key simultaneously.
Slowly words with three or four letters
were getting left behind
and I could only type words
with eight letters with two hyphens in between.
Confused? I was as well
as everything I typed became double hyphenated
and made no sense at all.
In desperation and frustration,
I reverted to being a one-finger typist
and now you know the story of my plight.
As for the other fingers,
well they got a new position
of multi-tasking elsewhere.

Submitted: Friday, June 17, 2011
Edited: Sunday, June 19, 2011

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Comments about this poem (One-Finger Typist (Fun Poem 122) by David Harris )

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  • Sidi Mahtrow (6/17/2011 12:23:00 PM)

    Some fingers have a special place
    In which they often race
    As only one can be
    In the opening you cannot see.

    Which reminds me of another rhyme
    About fingers and time:
    You can pick your friends
    And you can pick your nose
    But you can't (I hope)
    Pick your friend's nose.

    s (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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