Analysis of My Typewriter
I used to think a pot of ink
Held magic in its fluid,
And I would ply a pen when I
Was hoary a a Druid;
But as I scratch my silver thatch
My battered old Corona
Calls out to me as plaintively
As dying Desdemona.
"For old time's sake give me a break:
To you I've been as loyal
As ever could an Underwood,
Or Remington or Royal.
The globe we've spanned together and
Two million words, maybe,
For you I've tapped - it's time you rapped
A rhyme or two for me.
"I've seen you sit and smoke and spit
With expletives profane,
Then tear with rage the virgin page
I tendered you in vain.
I've watched you glare in dull despair
Through hours of brooding thought,
Then with a shout bang gaily out
The 'word unique' you sought.
"I've heard you groan and grunt and moan
That rhyme's a wretched fetter;
That after all you're just a small
Fat-headed verse-begetter;
You'd balance me upon your knee
Like any lady friend,
Then with a sigh you'd lay me by
For weeks and weeks on end.
"I've known when you were mighty blue
And hammered me till dawn,
Dire poverty! But I would be
The last thing you would pawn.
Days debt-accurst! Then at its worst
The sky, behold, would clear;
A poem sold, the garret cold
Would leap to light and cheer.
"You've toted me by shore and sea
From Mexico to Maine;
From Old Cathay to Mandalay,
From Samarkand to Spain.
You've thumped me in the battle's din
And pounded me in peace;
By air and land you've lugged me and
Your shabby old valise.
"But now my keys no more with ease
To your two fingers yield;
With years of use my joints are loose,
With wear of flood and field.
And even you are slipping too:
You're puffy, stiff and grey:
Old Sport, we're done, our race is run -
Why not call it a day?"
Why not? You've been, poor old machine!
My tried and faithful friend.
With fingertip your keys I'll flip
Serenely to the end.
For even though you're stiff and slow,
No other will I buy.
And though each word be wan and blurred
I'll tap you till I die.
Scheme | XXAXXBCB XDXDECXC XFXFGHXH XXXGCIAI JKCKXLXL CFMFXNEN XOXOJMXM XIXIXAXA |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110111 1100110 01110111 1100010 11111101 1101010 1111110 1101 11111101 1111110 1101110 1100110 01110100 110110 11111111 011111 11110101 110001 11110101 110101 11110101 1101101 11011101 010111 11110101 1101010 11011101 11011 11010111 110101 11011111 110111 11110101 010111 11001111 011111 1111111 010111 01010101 111101 11011101 11011 1101110 11011 11100101 010101 11011110 11011 11111111 111101 11111111 111101 01011101 110101 111110111 111101 11111101 110101 1101111 0100101 11011101 110111 01111101 111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,904 |
Words | 382 |
Sentences | 21 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 64 |
Letters per line (avg) | 23 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 187 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 47 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 2:01 min read
- 69 Views
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"My Typewriter" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32314/my-typewriter>.
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