Typewriter Poems - Poems about Typewriter

the old klunker was my friend he lasted till the end clickety click clickety click i'd sit back feeling free words would come to me i'd have my glass of wine a sip at every line the images would soar until they could no more clickety click clickety Submitted on March 8, 2025 to contest ONLY MARCH 2025 POSTED sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable...

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If in his time the mechanism had existed, would he have written even more? Would all his neighbors believe him mad? As he watched beauty succumb to deaths door His ethos words impress; insanity only when possessing exquisite levels of horror Incessantly; even more incessant rapping comes sanity from the walls, halls, ceiling, and floor A split vision...

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The Typewriter When a boy, the world appears near climbing over fences, no need to open a gate Across our house, a grey building, a school  for those who wanted to be welders or architects or some other trade. The caretaker had many keys, we thought he was the boss, wore a yellow coat and walked with dignity  He shouted at us kids...

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...bugger...

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What made them think it was wrong... For typed lines left unfinished Are lost thoughts untold... No love letters, no poems, not a song One day the rusted keys fell cold...

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We found the old typewriter in 1967 None of us knew whose it was at one time It was hidden in a corner of great grandma’s attic At this time, I was using an electric typewriter. This antique typewriter was nigh onto impossible to use You had to push the buttons with the force of a sledgehammer We did not find...

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Ole to yon poet writer of words Yet engaging tarring rhythmically graphics As all four corners images edging I have dreamed of these those sketches I heard an endearing, developing edging That moment my soul grew Polaroid™ Much I marveled this irresistible press release Extra-extra read all about it I remember I was benefiting, computer buffering By the grave I saw the waded balled...

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I have bought an old typewriter. Black and silver scrolled, heavy as history. Up all night, dreaming up a desk for it. The desktop had to marshmallow plumpy to avoid the rattle of any disjointed poetry. The white legs shaped just right. I put a black lace garter on all four. The antiquated machine speaks a thousand words of English, if you peck at...

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Tap, tap, clickety-clack Thoughts vigilantly stamped Trademark of transcription Technology's prologue Twain's famous "Tom Sawyer" Time etched black and white scene Tinted with grandpa's dust 4-27-2021...

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Free verse is great any day of the week, ...

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Introduction: I’ve noticed that some internet poets posting their own work on the net via a blog, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and so on sometimes use a typewriter. To clarify, instead of simply downloading a poem straight from their PC, they type it up ( old style ) on a scrap of paper, often crumpled or stained...

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As a young boy named Bob I was a bit of a slob As I did my sweet chewing job With typewriter teeth cleaning corncobs. Many years have flown past. I have grown old at last, But dentures don’t force me to fast. New typewriter teeth are having a blast. Date:10/19/2019 Picture 3...

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Bright black uniform letters Popping onto the stark white page Loud smacking satisfactory pops Pop T Pop Y Pop P Pop E Royal Smith-Corona Olympia Brother Typewriter magic of the 60’s. Predecessor of the Word Processor and the Computer....

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I have bought a garage-sale typewriter. It is an old replica of an even older machine. It should have a desk of its own, but the computer has eaten all of that space, and its plastic belly keeps getting larger. Up all last night, making a desk for my typewriter. I am handy with words, but it wasn’t easy. The desktop had...

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The other night at the bookstore in a young family strolled and it didn’t take but a minute for them to make me feel old. We have an antique typewriter in the store… (the kind that makes a clicking sound and ends with that familiar ‘ding’) which the young girl took one look at it and asked: “Dad, what is...

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