The Day of The Desk

The Desk is Replaced

by flattened tummy trim

black negligee hand-me-down

(from Mum)

reclining on Her Double Bed

knees up

She fingers Her Lap Top

on No Breakfast

Joanna Hyde
January 15th 2012   The Hawk


  1. kzoodedoo

    Hmmmm, Joanna…

    human evolution?
    genetic belly desk
    self contained and needs no food?
    are we
    virtually virtuous
    or virtuously virtual?

    (that’s what I’m thinkin’ over here.)

    • Joanna Gilman Hyde

      Thank you all for the comments: need I say the days (or years) of my studious grandfather pipe smoking away in his dark study, labouring key by key over typewriter and carbon paper, are gone — and is that because of our New Generation — like the one springing up in my seventeen year old daughter I have tried to capture (but not captivate) here in this poem?

    • pointsthruprose

      Thanks xandi, this is another, exceptional poem, written by my Step-Mother, Joanna Hyde and I so relate to it. I could never get the speed I need from a pen and paper and I will never forget the day I found my words on a keyboard!

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