the old typewriter

(a poem by my alter-ego, april 5, 1968)

i sit at my old typewriter -
three rows of keys before me
arranged in standard fashion
with all twenty-six letters
and punctuation markings

joining together in infinite orders,
infinite possibilities

someone shot doctor king yesterday
and sometimes i wonder
if the world will get any better
(it doesn't look like it will right now
and the war shows no sign of stopping)

the slow trudge of humanity,
the evolution of human thought
and capacity of feeling -
the war seems like it'll never end,
this old pipe smoking,
fedora donning writer
may never see it,
but a new generation will rise,
and our efforts may bring peace
for their time

i sit at my old typewriter,
reminiscing about the possibilities
for the future;
we've come so far in the last century,
maybe we can achieve peace in the next one
if only we work toward it,
only through mutual effort
may we achieve anything
and through it, we may achieve everything

10/21/15



Poetry by Thomas Perdue The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 707 times
Written on 2015-10-31 at 21:56

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I don't know that we've come very far. We're still always at war. Viet Nam's been traded for Afghanistan. The Communists have been traded for the Islamic State. If human effort can make things better, that's great. Unfortunately, humans seem unable even to make themselves better.

By the way, 1968 was one hell of a year. Not only was Dr. King assassinated, so was Robert Kennedy. The Democratic convention in Chicago that summer turned into a gigantic riot with cops running around beating people in the streets. In the immediate aftermath of King's assassination, there were big, deadly riots in Detroit, Washington DC, Pittsburgh and Baltimore. There was something very close to a revolution in Paris in May of that year. It really felt as if the world was coming to an end. Then, Richard Nixon was elected president and the better parts of it did.
2015-11-01


countryfog
As was Joe I was 23 then and already cynical, disabused of any hope of changing the world. In hindsight the cynicism seems warranted. My hope now is that my grandchildren can change it, or they may be no world left worth saving.
2015-11-01



This is really very good!
I enjoyed reading every word. How wonderful that your alter ego can travel across time so well. I always wished I had lived during that period of time. But the world did not get better, even as there was so much hope at that time.
An excellent poem.
Ashe
2015-10-31


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I recall 1968 and the evening that Dr. King was assassinated. The impact was a physical punch in my gut and a not too gentle push to the left. Regrettably, I was not as thoughtful and well lettered as your alter ego. Just a naive bewildered and somewhat lost 23 year old boy/man. Trying to make sense of a dangerous and ugly world. Great poem Thomas.
2015-10-31