What Is Live Typewriter Poetry? Everything You Need to Know

When I tell a new friend I’m spending my weekend performing typewriter poetry at a market or a wedding, their first question is always, “What is typewriter poetry?” And as a typewriter poet for hire based in Augusta, Georgia, I get this question a lot. Here’s my best answer.

While more commonplace on the corners of bustling cities and niche TikTok communities, typewriter poetry is by and large a strange thing to see today. Whereas our parents and our parents’ parents used typewriters regularly, and read or wrote a bit more poetry, too—this generation all but grew up without both.

The first thing typewriter poetry is, is a return to a lost art.

Poetry. Typewriters. — Two lost arts.

Cameron Miller, a live typewriter poet, types poems for guests at a wedding cocktail hour at the Biltmore Estate in North Carolina.

Taken by Micah Cook at a Biltmore Estate Wedding (October 2025)

Poetry by itself is not entirely lost for this generation. From performative poetry to Tumblr poems to celebrities selling their poetry collections on social media—this particular art has survived below the surface for the last two decades. But, as a means of connecting with a community it has remained largely quiet. That is, until recently.

I grew up writing lyric-style poetry—lighthearted little rhymes with a melody in my head. It was a fun, life-giving pastime. But here I am, nearly 30 years old, hopeful once more, because I live in a world where new pockets of poetry are emerging with real, if small, momentum. This is where I see the trend reversing. We’re not only seeing social contemporary poetry on the academic side—we’re seeing re-enchanted, metaphysical poetry on the religious side. And many pockets in between.

The allure of plainspoken platitudes that take 2 seconds to understand is fading quickly when you can ask AI to generate a poem for you about anything at any length in microseconds And, for the same reason, even high-quality poetry is swallowed up by the algorithm without some kind of unique presentation. However beautiful the words, without stand-out packaging poetry feels like it could be slop.

That leads me to typewriters. The return to analogue is driven by the yearning for authenticity. That desire to find something that feels more tactile, thought-through, slowed-down. A desire best suited to many mechanisms of the past.

This renaissance has invaded the photography community for the last decade; film photography is here to stay. Again. So if authenticity is the trend that keeps moving, typewriters are no different. They bring a beautiful, sensory feel to something that otherwise lacks the proper presentation to affect a total stranger.

A typewritten poem and lantern-insignia stamp beside a Royal typewriter.

From the clicking, the clacking, the dinging, the stickiness of keys, the imperfections with each inked letter, the lack of a backspace to revise yourself—the love for these quirks is a testament to the fact that people don’t really want perfection; they want human. Whether I’m performing live poetry for a wedding in Asheville or at Spring Fest in North Augusta, the typewriter always catches people’s attention first, and the connection keeps them around.

Typewriter poetry is my favorite niche there is. I’m not sure how many of us there are. My research estimates live typewriter poets exist in the neighborhood of 200-250 in the United States. Regardless of their size, the trend is growing. Perhaps it’s just my algorithm, but I’ve seen more and more typewriter poets appear on my Instagram feed. And not to mention poets with blogs and books and reels where they share their poetry to different communities.

More and more I see Instagram posts filled with ink-bleed letters, real handwriting, or print-inspired graphics… all mediums that feel authentic. Poetry (what I would call the realest form of language) inhabits these mediums perfectly.

So what does live typewriter poetry include?

If you hire me at an event, what do you get?

Cameron Miller, typewriter poet for hire, types poems for strangers at his booth at the Valentine's Day Market at Bedford Greenhouses in Augusta, Georgia.

At Bedford Greenhouses (2026)

First, you get me.

The human me. The me that makes a poem for you with an occasional spelling error or typed-over letter. But also the me that prays over each piece, that pores over each word in the chaos of parties or markets to make something that genuinely responds to the prompt you gave me, and in a personalized way.

Every custom poem I write is entirely unique and I never use AI. Some poems rhyme, others are entirely free verse, all depending on the tone of your prompt. My style has been described as whimsical, devotional, romantic, spiritual, and layered with imagery.

Black and white image of Cameron Miller, typewriter poet for hire, interacting with strangers at the Evans Market in Evans, GA.

At Evans Market (2025)

Second, you get an interaction.

A story from you—a story from me. I set up my booth at your wedding reception or private event with signage directing your guests to write down their word prompts and put them in a wooden box. I pull them out of the box like a game of fishbowl and write the poems throughout the evening.

Or, if you come across my booth at a market, you may share a favorite memory, an animal you like, or the quality of a person you love. The more specific, the better. I endeavor to squeeze these conversations into a cluster of impactful and honest words. These stories inspire the stories I write.

A lantern stamp is set upon two typewritten poems on 5x7 paper, one in a plastic sleeve.

Third, you get something tangible.

When you approach my booth, you get 5×7 deckle-edged cotton paper (at a thickness of 130-180 GSM). On the paper, your poem is hand-printed in black typewriter ink and my personal logo stamp: the lantern insignia. I slide each poem in a plastic sleeve along with an acid-free backing board. This means if you decide to frame your poem—either to hang on your wall or set on an easel for a bookshelf—the backing is already set and preserves your poem from discoloration or decay. You just need the glass and frame, and it’s good to go. At markets, I also offer envelopes with a handmade wax seal for a timeless touch; they even include adhesive on the inside for you to seal yourself.

Not every typewriter poet uses this presentation. (One poet I know types each custom poem over watercolor-painted paper. Another poet has made her booth into a vibrant, flower-filled wonderland.) This is just the aesthetic I like to convey—I want each poem to feel as though it could be a missing page from a vintage novel.

If you’re a poet yourself and think, I don’t know if I can write on the fly like that! you could very well prove yourself wrong. True, you’re not joining a well established niche. BUT you’re also not reinventing the wheel. If you have even one spontaneous bone in your body, that’s where you start. You let those little sparks of inspiration run free. It’s the art of surrender just as much as it is creation.

I thought my nerves would prevent me from being able to do this for strangers, but all the pressure melted away as soon as I simply decided to be present. I share my heart, my imperfection, my mind, I invite people into an experience where they can feel seen. There are few things more human.

If you’re planning a wedding, corporate event, or private party and want to bring something genuinely unforgettable to your guests, I’d love to hear about it. You can book the poetry booth here.

If you’d like a custom poem as a personal keepsake or gift, you can order one here.

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How Typewriter Poetry Changed My Perspective on Art