This is the compilation of the first five poetry books in the “22” series, 22 because there are 22 poems in each, and 22 because that’s where I decided to be a writer/poet.

“22@22” were the original poems I wrote as a young romantic.

“Wet Sidewalks” were more introspective and personal, truly when out walking.

“Boyhood Rising” came about as my sons were born and growing and I called them Son Flowers.

“Meta-Morphosis” was a maturation of themes and ideas, linked to Sidewalks.

“Pooroetry” is just some of the poetry I thought worthy of sharing, but still not the best. (Coming!)

“Begin The Beguine” was a Cole Porter song often used as a last dance in the dime-a-dance dancehalls of Europe, to signal the end of the night. It was a longer song, so the men could take that last embrace before going off to wherever they were headed, usually alone. My title signifies that it’s time I let these poems go, “Begone,” that it’s the end of this series of longings and memories, as yet the residue remains. I can remember, but I can’t relive, and there’s no use trying to make the worse times better, or the best times linger.

I just wanted to be done with them even though every time I look at them I want to add and subtract, edit or embellish; the curse of the perfectionist. This book was published in December 2024 but so much of it was written while I worked at The Detroit News in Sterling Heights from the time I was 18, to the JOA strike in July of 2005; and as I attended Western Michigan University from ’75 to 79 where my professors advised me to choose any other path than writing, which of course incentivized me to pursue it all the more.

I wrote poetry first, at St. Mark’s Grade School in Warren, because that was how young feelings came, in snippets of verse which contained multiple feelings but few words. I didn’t know at the time that it meant I was a “romantic,” but now I know that’s where it all started, chasing embraces and first kisses in last dances. I guess some things never changed.

To be a “jock” meant the only feelings to feel continually were pain, good physical pain, pain that throbbed in your thighs and back and ribs from hitting and being hit, be it boxing, wrestling, football or hockey. Poetry was the expression of other pains, the ones you couldn’t dare show or share, so you’d grumble thoughts into the sidebar of lined paper what Dad or friends or girls with long blond hair ignited with their words or stares. No one taught you at that early stage that tears were the rivers that carried pain and pleasure to pen and paper.

The reason I’m beginning with my poetry is because more people need to read it, recognize it, write it and express it. Older people need to reunite with their most juvenile feelings. Young people need to ignite it for the first time. it is the most simple mediums and it’s very important its practice is continued. I feel a responsibility to teach and inform my peerss and my followers to express themselves in this way. The music industry stays and evolves by poetry and verse. music lives in poetry, and poetry lives in music. Like a short story or a movie scene, more is said when implied than when expressed explicitly. One line by Leonard Cohen can tell a whole story. A whole story by J.D. Salinger can be summed up in a line. If content is King, brevity is Queen. (If only in the written word!) A lifetime can begin in a smile or a touch, a wink or a sashay, a journey with one step, a story in a title.

“Anything crucial and lasting is written, first.”

I was asked recently and repeatedly at an event with many close friends, “what do you write?…how long?…how much?…” and the plethora of common questions by those who hold any ambitions to write. I always relate it to music. Write a thought, express one idea, tell one thing you know that you think one other person may benefit from or enjoy. It’s about giving. It’s about service, just like anything else you pursue in life. A note becomes a chord becomes a verse. A song begins in a feeling. A feeling shared, a memory. A memory, a legacy.

I feel so strongly about carrying on the tradition of the lyricism in poetry, that I will help you, support you, encourage you to bring your best out. I stated earlier that my best was yet to come. I know it is. I read a verse from 20 years prior and a tear or smile still forms. I have so much to give for all that’s been given to me. Adventures, victories, lessons, loves, prisms of the beauty that’s passed over these eyes which may inspire one to visit, pursue and learn things outside of their realm. I hope to inspire, ignite, and invest desire so we can share this task of recording words.

WHY NOW?

I have waited this long to put these out because, like most artists, for one, they never seem good enough; and two, there was never enough “right” time with family and work and all the other excuses required to take an honest look at what was worthwhile and what was not. In having this time now, this opportunity to revisit the (thank God I’d saved them) notebooks I’d accumulated, categorized, and now digitized from all those years, I luckily have a 60+ year diary to draw from of those musings, feelings, ideas, poetry, stories, advice, screenplays, quips and clutter that needs to be bared and shared because God gave me that gift and purpose and it’s a privilege more than a duty. But, I’m afraid I have more content, than energy.

In digging up this past I also found much I’m pleased with and will be posting and publishing on a regular basis. The books I’ve written will be highlighted with some backstory to help understand where I’m coming from, only to add context to what I attempted to convey in their covers. This is a site about me, Tom Typinski, and the many, many, many ways I’d been blessed in this life, as well as some of the challenges I’d faced and defeated, or relinquished. I encourage you to comment and inquire about your own poems and share this post, comment, enjoy. “Begin” here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLBPNM1R