Typewriter Poetry

Typewriter Poetry

Especially in the non-stop world of the Baltimore-Washington metropolitan area, it seems like everyone is always rushing around.  There's little time for connection, rest, or play, as we pass by hundreds if not thousands of other lives each day.  Lives which tell glorious and difficult stories, all unfolding all at once.

Through a curious series of events, I've joined my good friend Mark in the art of on-the-spot typewritten poetry.  What a surprise it has continually been to connect with strangers, hear a bit about their story or their sense of humor, and then to write them a poem celebrating, as best I can, whatever it is that's on their minds.

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There's something strangely beautiful and wonderfully human about connecting with another over a typewritten poem.  To get a glimpse of their story - perhaps their marriage, their cat, their uncertainty, their hobbies, their dreams - and then capture it in a poetic from is a humbling and joyful experience; sometimes hilarious, sometimes healing.

Even when writing poems about a topic of which I know very little, such as baseball or eastern mysticism, there's an interesting challenge in discovering common ground, in connecting with and honoring someone with a very different background or belief or worldview.  What happens when we ask questions that lead us to affirm the human longings about which we all can sing?  Perhaps differences and disagreements can be set aside for a minute, for all of us need the gifts of encouragement and kindness.

Slow down and see the stories being written all around you.  Search out the goodness and the glory amidst the struggles and the triumphs.

Create Goodness

I just wrote most of a blog post and erased it.  So many thoughts swirl and I cannot give you a coherent story yet.  So instead of the poignant, deeper thoughts, a more lighthearted signpost will have to do!

Some time ago, my friend Mark invited me to join him at the Vintage Market to write poems.  Having not written a poem in years, I found this a peculiar request.  Yet he insisted and I relented and off I finally went, on an overbooked weekend, to Blacksburg.

Nestled between old records and old leather shoes are two desks.  One, solid wood, with a 'FREE POEM' sign on the front in orange duct tape.  The second: particle board, joined by a kindergarten-sized blue chair.  I have my 1953 Silent Super.  Mark has his 1930s Royal.  We are ready to type.

For five hours, people pass by, in search of a vintage sweater or jewelry or other knick-knacks.  Some look at us and smile oddly. A few engage - "Typewriters!  I remember those!" A few take us up on our offer.  "Free poems?  Really?"

"Yes," we say.  "Choose a topic!"

And so for Amanda I wrote about Sunday Mornings. For Eleni, a poem about her big family; for Chloe, Halloween. Mark gave away rhymes about spaghetti, coffee and cats, Iceland.

Whether ridiculous verse about pizza or poignant stanzas about home, it was an absolute delight to catch a glimpse of these souls and bless them with a brief poem about something they enjoyed and, in most cases, deeply loved.

As we talked with these people we barely knew, and as some even teared up over poems about their dogs, I was struck by the goodness and simplicity of it all. A connection was made, a gift was given, and people's days were made that much better.

I want to write more poems.

So to you, dear reader, I say this: Create Goodness. Find a way to tell someone today that their life matters. Be a blessing. Be a part of someone's healing. Who knows what joy will come?

(check out the poetry at Word on the Street)