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

7 comments

  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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