Typewriter Series #3070 | 12.15.20

One of the challenges of writing poetry for other people, for these custom poems that have served as a lifeline through this pandemic, is picking and choosing the details that will make their way into the poetry. I am often presented with dozens and dozens of personal details, anecdotes, inside jokes, even quotes, that people wish to see immortalized in their story, pieces they think are crucial and instrumental in the telling. The truth is, they all are. Herein lies the challenge, the problem, the hurdle.

Interestingly, however, is that in the writing of these over these last few months, it’s this part that is the most fun. Trying to piece the details in becomes an unbelievable jigsaw puzzle, and creating a complete picture that not only makes logical sense, but feels like a poetic representation instead of just a bullet list of interesting tidbits, is so hard. I Love this. I love being pushed in poetry, I love trying to work my way through a love story, a story of loss, a story of triumph or defeat, and I love the moment I hit send and wait to see how it lands. It’s terrifying but it’s beautiful.

This piece began there, on a detail about twin tattoos of circles that each person shares, one persons became a lock, the other became a hole in a heart, the loss that would be felt if the other left. It started everything for me, “A circle shared, a hole and a lock…” and the rest bloomed from there, growing around the circle motif, but also about all the things in a human life that follow this same circle, this orbit. After all, aren’t we all on this big loop through life?

I hope you enjoy Typewriter Series #3070, and if you’re still on the fence about buying a custom poem, I’m ready, willing, and thrilled to do so. You can order one by just clicking the button below. Anyhow, give the poem a listen, give it a read, and let me know what you think.

A circle shared, a hole

and a lock,

we were here once

and we will be

again.

If I call this endless,

will you understand?

A circle shared, and it's

forward we face.

Laps around the sphere

of this place,

here, the moonlight over

the surface of the sea,

here, the concrete maze

and din of humanity,

here, promises made,

here, promises kept.

I know not what we'll find

this trip around,

nor the next, nor the

one to follow,

but I know we'll be

around again,

I know wherever I end

is precisely

where you

begin.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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