Sunday, July 06, 2014

Poetry Sunday

Looking back to last Monday's post about the sounds our children will probably never hear, I thought about this poem by Marvin Bell ...

Catalog with Illustrations
by Marvin Bell

The beauty of an old desk blotter where ink stains grew into
       the shapes of ships in a turbulent ocean,
and the ticking of the clock in the sunlight thickened by dust.
The clacking of the typewriter keys, the big zipper sound of
       the carriage return,
and the sound of the struck bell muffled in the drapes.
The air was rich with time, when there was still time.
The letter ripened slowly in the typewriter.
The minute hand took a second to move one digit.
Under the glass that covered the desktop, a map and
       family photos.

Have a good day. Enjoy the time you have, and use it - perhaps - to ripen some letters in the typewriter. More thoughts tomorrow.



Grand Crapaud said...

A majestic, thoughtful poem.

eViL pOp TaRt said...

Alas, I never typed on a real typewriter, only word processors.

I did press down on an old timey telegraph key.

A thoughtful poem, an evocation of time and mood.

Hope you are having a nice weekend, and no storm damage.

Mike said...

We have an old selectric but alas no cartridges.

Elvis Wearing a Bra on His Head said...

A letter slowly ripening in the typewriter suggests that it is a letter that's hard, possibly painful, to write.