Home » Poems » Caren Krutsinger » Perpetually Typing

Perpetually Typing

Clothes used to matter. Now I don’t even fix supper.
There is food here
Thanks to my husband.
I am typing
All the time

Perpetually typing
Delighting in it
Stuck to a computer
Hours upon hours
Throwing down my truth

So when I die
People can throw the clothes out
But maybe
Just
maybe
Please
maybe
they will not
throw out my words.
Finally reading them for the very first time….

writewritinglight verse

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Jennifer Proxenos

October 4, 2019 at 6:27 AM

My husband owned a restaurant for 30 years - he therefore loves to cook there is no question about who is the boss in the kitchen, he even tidies up after, so I am also able to find the time for poetry soup otherwise with our business taking up all our daytime hours, I wouldn't be able to do what I do - aren't we lucky. As for my poems being read, my son says mom, you have them up in the cloud, I'll always have them - hope he means it, but I'm sure he does. Hugs and blessings, Jennifer.

Caren Krutsinger

October 4, 2019 at 8:44 AM

I know he means it! A husband who knows how to cook. And we BOTH have them! I keep telling my husband he would be a wonderful short order cook and we should buy a restaurant! Maybe in my next career change.

Rhona Mcferran

October 2, 2019 at 9:56 PM

An instant FAV!!! I often wonder whether my husband and other friends will read my stuff when I'm gone... Sometimes I get discouraged, but I have to keep creating something to have meaning in my life. I am SO GLAD that you keep on typing!! You are a treasure, and I know that your poetry will live on for generations to come! ;)

Caren Krutsinger

October 3, 2019 at 4:21 AM

I keep typing and typing and typing for what reason? So my children and grandchildren will have something after I am gone and they have burned all my paintings.