Although tapping one finger at a time
Slows down my pace
My manual typewriter
Activates my creative state
*
*
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Category: Art/Artist
370
I
Scribble
Scribble
Scribble
In my tomb
She summons me for sex and food.
Working hard for my muse
*
*
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288
Coming into the Hermit’s library
Wife
Said
“I cannot take it any longer”
“I need to dust this place”
Armed
With a box full of dusters
We cleaned a few shelves of books
Then
She
Started sneezing
And
Needed to take a break
Saved
By an allergy attack
Until
Next time
209
Late night
Walking cobbled streets of Prague
Had one too many pilsners
Met a street performer
On the corner
Done for the night playing his violin
After an hour of shooting the breeze
I asked my new friend
Why is it that you are so at ease?
He replied:
“I play for spare change
I’m the only one who needs to be pleased
Some people call me lazy and completely crazy
But
Too much ambition would no longer be fun being a musician
I accept who I am
No need to try to be on top of the highest mountain”
176
All night with headlamp
Writing poems amongst tombstones
No longer alone
95
Missed my typewriter
We again together
Back to being writer
86
My typewriter keys
Starting to look rusty
They are still friends to me
63
Tap Tap Tap the keys
Rum coke typewriter and me
Deep in fantasy
59
Street Photographers
Silently shoot their frames of
Everyday magic
35
Engulfed by his books
The Hermit scribbles his poems
Before it’s too late
The Hermit Poet's Ramblings 