Intersection 5

When a typewriter and my excitement meets...

I feel giddy about sharing my joy when I see (hear or even think about) a typewriter! Does this seem odd to you? Don't worry, I am used to receiving very curious reactions when I talk about my dream of owning a typewriter (or typewriters). I am not sure how I will begin explaining my passion for typewriters, but I really - seriously - would want to own one soon.

My heart fluttered yesterday when I saw a typewriter in my mother's office. She attended to her work and allowed me to use the typewriter, which I did not hesitate to follow. Memories of me typing on library cards when I was in the 4th grade rushed to me as my fingers touched the keys of the typewriter. Euphoria.

I randomly pressed letters, trying to imagine myself as a writer in an age where computers are seen as impossible. I imagined how my mind would instantly connect to the keys, memorizing the arrangement of letters and celebrating the rhythm of every key. Everything focused on those moments, and I just knew I had to create pieces on the golden device under my hands.

So, I did.

For sunrises are beautiful,
Like your presence
Refreshing and hopeful.
For sunsets are pleasant,
Like your voice and silence,
With signatures all over them.
Marked by your identity,
You summarize my hopes.
                              - Nov. 9, 2014

***************

My sister looked at me with an understanding expression as I shared my ecstatic feelings for the typewriter in our mother's office. She nodded like she understood, but I know she found it very weird for me to be too happy about an old version of the computer. Because I wanted to prove my sincerity towards the typewriter, I asked her to give me 10 random words. I told her I will create a poem with the words she thinks of.

First set: stars, sky, grades, Anna, blame, sight, memoir, water, mint, raise

Here's what I have come up with after 5 minutes:

A memoir of happiness,
Mirroring the mint hued skies
The refreshing sight of waves,
Of waters, deep and blue.
Though the stars seem too far,
I cannot blame them
For you decided to flee.
The grades of pain we felt,
Our sorrows, we have never raised
Never dealt with.
How can bonds be mere voids?
Oh Anna,
Have we just said goodbye?

My sister expressed how amazed she was about how fast I created the piece. I guess she finally had a clue about how a typewriter affects and inspires me.

I have created more poems, but I think I'll be saving them for my book/s. I hope you'll buy a copy if I do publish my work.

I hope you find inspiration from something you are excited about, even if most people would not understand.

Until the next 'odd' inspiration,

Myra

(Credit to collectorsweekly.com for the photo)