He would stare vacantly at the screens around the house;
they’d met because they both wrote.
Together in a techie age, she grew nerdy and
he became listless. Fancies faded, his muse had fled.
He missed something tactile, real, a hard object to hang a thought on.
She retrieved the old Royal—he began to type, his novel poured forth.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2.27.11 * All Rights Reserved


7 thoughts on “INSPIRATION

  1. Sometimes a change of scene, method, and in this case old-school tool-of-the-trade gets that novel cooking. The first half of the poem also speaks to me of the need for all of us nerdy techies to unplug and change it up a bit once in a while. Great take on the prompt, Gay. Wise words.

  2. My father used to bang the keys of his old royal so hard that I’m surprised it survived the onslaught. He wanted to be a writer, and did in a way, becoming a newspaperman. His daughter the poet writes longhand in notebooks.

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