Thursday, August 11, 2011

Typewriter Keys and Smudged Ink


All Right.. First off I want to just say that I am not a poet...

In thinking about my grandparents (and since finding the typewriter, I have had a huge desire to use it,) I decided to to take the time and do a free write/ random association poem based on memories of my grandparents.

Typewriter Keys and Smudged Ink

The clatter of keys. The smell of roses and sunlight and ceder and old books. The music of the organ and laughter. The promise of  new story. New story and history rolled into one. Stories and cookies. And hair in painful rollers. Fair hair and grey hair. Strong arms and gnarly knuckles. Creaky stairs. Hot attics. A daydreamer's treasure trove. Finding lost objects older than can be imagined. New stories for some, almost forgotten memories for others.
This could be why I have such a hard time getting things done. My lovely Jazz has to be a part of everything I do

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