Monday, 23 November 2009

November Poems 23

The White Noise of Writing Novels


Among the daily rumble
of the washing machine,
and the clatter of the drier,
the fans inside the computer
whirr and hum and the hard drive
(old and in need of replacement)
buzzes and clatters.

Overriding all
is the clatter of keys
as she types, types, types –
pounding out words with two fingers
(and her thumb on the space bar)
though inside her head the demons are crying,
drowning the gentle
as her synapses snap.

4 comments:

BT said...

A marvellous poem Rachel.

aims said...

Two fingers? Surely not!

Rachel Green said...

Gina - thank you1

Aims - Yes! I am crap at typing!

Unknown said...

Oh no! I'd have never guessed about the typing.

But what a super poem, Rachel.