Bespoke Poetry

So…I didn’t really want to do it. I didn’t feel ready to do it. But, it was such a beautiful day. Out came the typewriter, to make her debut on D Street. Oh, she is a beauty . . . 1950’s vintage Royal portable with black & red dual ribbon. The V key sticks EVERY time. My girl has quirks . . . but oh, I love her.

 I set her up on top of a borrowed black metal suitcase, stacked on a bar stool . . . out on the sidewalk. In front of shops & vendors (& God and everybody). Me & my ruby red typewriter . . . and we waited.

And if you know me, you know that I am never going to make a fuss. I paced around, I played with my phone, I avoided eye contact and I tried to blend in with the door frame behind me.

But my friend (thank you, Apples) had my back . . . and she knows me enough to know just how hard to push. She gently sent folks my way. She cheered for me from the sidelines like a proud mom at a 6 year old’s dance recital. I couldn’t help but want to make her proud. 

So, I found my voice and I asked people to tell me their stories. In ten minutes or less, I tried to get to know each person and then I just let the words find their way out of my finger tips. 

Not every poem will be perfect (you might not like yours!). And that is okay & exactly how it should be. I spend way too much time critiquing myself and feeling self-conscious. (You probably do, too.) This project is meant to be spontaneous . . . only in the moment. We share a conversation, I type your poem and then you walk away and the moment is gone. No editing, no second-guessing, no delete key and no Esc.

Thank you to everyone I met on my first day. Thank you (Judy, Gordon & Loren) for sharing your stories with me & making it fun. I am better for it.