Letter from Boston

Magnetic Poetry

By MASAKO YAMADA

Magnetic Poetry has been around for some time now, but it seems that the trend has yet to wane. What is Magnetic Poetry? It is a box filled with words printed on magnetized board. One puts the words on a metal surface (usually the refrigerator) and arranges them into poems.

I've tried my hand at creating such poetry and have found it's a lot more difficult — and a lot more addictive — than one might think. I tried creating poetry at a friend's house, so I couldn't spend too much time searching for the right words. But I could imagine spending many hours in front of the refrigerator sorting lines.

Magnetic Poetry products have taken off; some stores carry entire tables full of Magnetic Poetry goods. In the standard set, there are prefixes and suffixes that enable one to make different words and to change tenses. There are also a few blank pieces that let one print special words.

However, there are many expanded sets on the market that include specialized vocabulary for people who don't want to be limited by mundane words. For instance, I've seen a special Boston version of Magnetic Poetry, multilingual Magnetic Poetry, New Age Magnetic Poetry, as well as Magnetic Poetry that includes lingo from popular TV shows like "The Simpsons." Not surprisingly, other companies have used the idea to create their own sets of magnetized words. However, the original Magnetic Poetry kit with the original vocabulary still seems to be the most popular.

A book of poems that were created using Magnetic Poetry was published recently. The concept is gimmicky, but the book is fun. It even comes with a small set of magnetic words and a small magnetic board embedded in the front cover. To add credibility to what otherwise might just be another fad, the forward was written by the poet laureate of the United States, Boston University professor Robert Pinsky. He mentions that part of the charm of Magnetic Poetry is that the vocabulary is limited. It forces the users to be creative in combining the words.

Modern American verse tends to be very free, so I think this artificial constraint is welcomed by many. Much like writing a sonnet or a haiku, writing Magnetic Poetry is challenging because of the limitations. The spontaneous and ephemeral nature of Magnetic Poetry is also alluring. The poetry on the refrigerator changes constantly. It's almost as if writing it down would cause it to lose its magic. In this sense, I think the Magnetic Poetry book loses some of the charm of the original. Given that poetry is a gift that can be enjoyed by many, it seems sad that most of the works created in kitchens across the country are never seen beyond the refrigerator door. Recently, however, I've seen a particularly wonderful way of enjoying Magnetic Poetry in public, without it losing its audience-friendly, interactive feel.

In Central Square in Cambridge a large magnetic board has been erected in a public space, and Magnetic Poetry words have been placed on these boards. Passersby are free to arrange the words as they like. I don't know who keeps track of them (the way it is set up now, anybody could steal them) but it seems that people are respecting this community resource. I suppose there is some kind of governing body that oversees this project, because someone even selects a poem of the week, which is protected from probing fingers by a clear plastic covering. It's a happy sight. I've seen many people, lured by this magnetic board, arrange a few words for themselves, and I've seen poems — or the remains of poems — that are thoughtful and quite charming.

As I've written before, some parts of Central Square are quite run-down, but this landmark seems to be generating a life of its own. I think it's amazing that a work of art so simple — and so cheap — can create such excitement. It's probably obvious that the reason it generates so much interest is because everybody can participate. I've heard that Harvard Square also has Magnetic Poetry available to the public and I'm hoping that it'll reach the BU area soon.

Shukan ST: May 15, 1998

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