The Best Way to Write a Magnetic Poem - In the Company of Others
In which Rosemary decides to write a poem in Spanish with her magnetic poetry kit, while sipping on coffee and drinking wine, and the neighbors join in enthusiastically.
THE LITERARY DAY BEGINS
October 6, 2024 was a Sunday. And as I am apt to do on a day off from the office job, I made a literary day of it. I packed my backpack with reading material, my journal and a pen, and a magnetic poetry kit. The Spanish one instead of the English one, on this day. And then I walked down the hill from my apartment to the heart of Northbeach, a few blocks away.
I started my afternoon at Compton’s Coffeehouse, on the main road in Northbeach, Columbus Avenue, a half a block away from Washington Square Park, a park which I like to call “my very public back yard”, since I live in an apartment building without a yard and surrounded by, well, other apartment buildings.
I sat down first at the common table, where people were chatting softly or typing on their laptops, and introduced myself to Neil, a Shiba Inu, who was interested in saying hello.
I never turn down a friendly canine interaction, so I patted Neil and talked with his People a bit, mostly asking about Neil, and his breed, which I didn’t know much about, before settling into my first activity: journal writing.
MUSICAL CHAIRS AND THE CHESS GAME OF FINDING THE PERFECT SEAT
The common table is great, and everyone is generally civil and easygoing about crowding in at it and sharing space. Interestingly, most of the people who come to this café come to work, so although hanging out at the common table with friends and chatting isn’t discouraged, I notice it doesn’t happen as much here.
When you are someone with a laptop or a project to work on, you covet a table of your own around the edges of the café, many of which also have electric outlets conveniently located along the wall near them. Unlike some of the older cafés in the neighborhood, this is a newer business on the block, and the café owners made sure when they opened the place that they had remodeled the space so that ample electrical outlets are available for the laptop crowd who like to work here.
All day, people sit down at the common table, and as tables with window and wall (and that coveted electric outlet) access open up, it becomes a game of Musical Chairs:
Who will see the empty table first?
Who will be fast enough to grab their cup or coat or laptop and nonchalantly drop it at the open table to claim ownership of it?
Who will gather their things to move tables, only to find someone got their first, and now find someone is at their old spot, swooping in to sit there? ( One does have to be sure not to lose the original seat... the calculation has to be correctly and swiftly made.)
It’s a tame crowd; there isn’t a lot of fuss about it; the process is fairly smooth. But I do chuckle when I see it, because it is a daily occurrence, and interesting to watch. Someone starts stuffing their items into a backpack, or they bus their empty coffee cups to the dirty plate station or to the trash bins. Suddenly heads from around the café swivel slightly, necks stretch, hands hover over coffee cups and the sides of laptops, or reach behind to grab a coat, and suspend there, as it is determined:
Is this person really leaving?
Has anyone else seen the movement over there?
Is anyone nearer to the table likely to beat me there to it?
Several times an hour the Musical Chairs game occurs. A chess board simultaneously appears as people make their strategic moves, and circle in and out of seats that they better prefer.
I participate in the game, on occasions, like this one. Other days, I stay at the common table, content to stay put where I first snagged a seat.
On this day, I was not looking for more space for my laptop, but for my Poetry Project: writing a magnetic poem in Spanish. It wasn’t worried about people seeing what I was writing, as I sometimes am when I journal write. There was nothing I needed to keep private, but the common table seats are close to each other, and I didn’t want to flow over into another person’s spot on the table while they were working. I was going to need a little more room than Neil and his companions would allow me.
Sad to leave Neil, but happy to have a staging area, I moved a few feet away to a table by the window, as soon as it opened up.
THE MAGNETIC POETRY PROJECT GETS ROLLING
I set up shop. Poetry books for inspiration came out of the backpack, as did my pen and journal, and my water and cups of coffee from the cafe promised to keep me motivated for the exercise.
I started by clearing some space on my magnetic board, an 8”x11” sized folding folio I found online, which is perfect for carrying with me instead of relying on creating poems solely on my refrigerator door. This is a lot more relaxing, and I don’t have to stand up to do it.
When creating my magnetic poetry, I keep a lot of the words on the whiteboard, and the extras I keep in the provided plastic box, so I don’t have to start all over hunting for every possible word I might want. I set previously used words aside to start the new poem.
On this day, I didn’t have any idea what I wanted to write, so I just looked at the smattering of words already on the whiteboard and tried to pick a few that might fit together, to see what theme would arise as I created my first line.
How the poem takes shape depends on which words I can find in the pile that fit the theme that takes shape, once the first phrase is started. Sometimes I take a phrase I’ve created that doesn’t fit into the current poem, and move it aside, so that I can use it in the next one. Just making a sentence feels exciting, so I don’t want to throw away the effort once I’ve created something. Hunting through words is half the battle here.
THE POEM TAKES SHAPE
The poem started to take shape. The manager came by to help capture a butterfly that got stuck inside the café, which had been beating itself against the window, and after he cupped the creature into a plastic cup and delivered it safely outside, he chatted with me for a moment about my project.
“I’m writing in Spanish,” I announced proudly, like a six year old who has just learned to write his own name. “I’m trying to improve my Spanish and I think this will be a fun way to do it.”
He nodded encouragingly, and surveyed my pile of words on the whiteboard. We talked for a few minutes, until it was time for him to return to the cash register, and me to my poetry making.
The progress was slow, as I hunted for words that made sense, and that were grammatically correct.
Time slowed down while I concentrated on my task. But then suddenly it was 5PM, and the café was closing, and I wasn’t done with my project yet. I had been in the café for a couple hours, but going home so soon seemed premature.
I closed the folio carefully to make sure the magnetic pieces stayed intact and so that I wouldn’t lose my new half-written poem, and I headed around the corner to a wine bar, Waystone.
THE MAGNETIC POETRY PROJECT MOVES FROM A CAFÉ TO A WINE BAR
It was Sunday evening, and a jazz band was playing in the corner, as they do every Sunday from 4-7pm.
I love all kinds of jazz, so I enjoy being able to walk a few blocks away from home and enjoy it live at this bar. I studied vocal jazz for some years, many years ago, and on Monday nights I frequent this bar to sing in their open jazz jam, singing standard jazz tunes I learned long ago, but never had the opportunity to perform in public.
But on this night, the band was not inviting people to join them in performing, so I ordered my wine, and, not seeing anybody seated near me to chat with, I got out my magnetic poetry kit once more, and placed it on the bartop.
NEIGHBORS GET INVOLVED
Pretty soon, however, neighbors seated themselves beside me, and the conversations began.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m working on a Spanish poem, with my magnetic poetry kit.” The proud six-year-old in me beamed once again.
“The great thing about the magnetic poetry is, it makes you think differently, because the words are limited. But then, it also can take more time than just writing out a poem, because you have to hunt for the words that you could use,” I told my neighbor. I then explained to her that I was looking for a specific word to use in my poem, but that I couldn’t find it.
“I’ll help you find it!” she said, and we dumped out the contents of the remaining words from the plastic box onto the bartop. She searched the words we had spilled out onto the bartop and I searched for the word on my whiteboard.
Another neighbor walked by with a glass of wine, on his way to a seat farther down the bar.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing a magnetic poem in Spanish. We’re looking for a particular word.”
“I’ll help!” And so a second neighbor was at the bar with me, scouring through words.
“But I know a LITTLE Spanish,” he said, after sifting through words for a few minutes. “Maybe I’ll write a poem of my own instead.”
“Go ahead,” I responded, and he started choosing from words strewn on the bartop and lining them up to create his poem.
The Neighbor’s poetic line:
“Ella necesita el huele sexual de leche del rey paloma ardiente”
“She needs the sexual smell of milk from the ardent (passionate) pigeon king.”Here is another view of my neighbor’s poetic line, perhaps easier to read:
What imagery my neighbor conjured up in his poem, so short!
But the hunt for the word I wanted continued. While more neighbors gathered around to admire the poetry project process and help me search for the word I wanted, I continued building my poem with other words I was finding that seemed to fit.
The poem was almost done!
A REALIZATION ABOUT THE MISSING WORD
Finally, and belatedly, I realized I had a paper list of all the words that came in the poetry kit. The word I was looking for was so basic, I hadn’t realized it might not ACTUALLY be a word that came with the kit.
“Hold it!” I told everyone. “Let’s see if this word I want is actually in here.”
I looked on the list. And Reader…
I shake my head, I click my tongue, I bow my head in shame….
SMH (face palm) emoji. 🤦♀️
The word we had been looking for was not there.
The word I wanted? “Venir”. “To Come”. A very basic verb, in my mind. “Ir” or “to go” in many of its forms, are in the kit. But somehow its opposite is not. All our searching, in vain.
WAS ALL THAT SEARCHING IN VAIN?
But was it in vain? In that searching, I gained hours of connection with neighbors, shared laughs and my love of language and Spanish, played with words, created memories. We drank wine, we listened to and cheered on the local musicians playing jazz. A neighbor gave me a one line poem in Spanish, for you to read.
And I did finish my poem:
You can read it typed out, in Spanish and English, here:
2. Magnetic Poem in Spanish - Cada Vez (Every Time)
This poem was written in Spanish, so I share the Spanish version first. See the English translation below.
This was my day, sharing companionship and joy and creating poetry, one line at a time, throughout the neighborhood.
Today’s stop on the Northbeach tour of Rosemary’s List of Nice Places to Hang Out:
Waystone is a wine bar that serves wine, beer, and food. It is a block away from the main retail street Columbus Avenue (on Powell Street, at Green Street), so not everyone knows to look for it. It’s still in the center of the Northbeach district, and you will want to return to it frequently once you’ve been once.
It is open 7 days a week from 4pm and has live music Sundays through Tuesdays. On Wednesdays they have a wine tasting menu. Other fun things happen throughout the weeks and months. They feature local artists’ work on their walls and host art events. They teach wine classes. They also feature popup menu events, in which a guest chef will prepare and serve their own menu for a night.
And although they hire jazz bands to play live at the bar, if you come by on a night owner Tom is hosting, you may also learn a thing or two about Heavy Metal music (and why you’re missing out if you don’t try it out, just a little…)
Tom’s dog Dottie will also supervise you (safely, at a distance, far below the bartop) while you eat your chicken or beef ribs.
Compton’s Coffeehouse is a coffee shop and cafe serving coffees, teas, and pastries. They have several locations in San Francisco. The store in Northbeach is on Columbus Avenue between Union Street and Green Street, is open 7 AM to 5 PM in the winter, and 7 AM to 6 PM in the summer. Their coffee is excellent, their staff is friendly, as are the patrons. It’s quiet enough here for the Laptop People to get some work done, but coming by to hang out and chat is also welcome (and encouraged). Children and dogs often accompany their People here. It’s also a good people watching place with views of Columbus Avenue and Washington Square Park.
If you’re ever in San Francisco, stop by these places! You may see me there, reading or writing poetry or saying hi to the neighbors and their dogs.
If you know someone who would enjoy reading this publication, feel free to share the English version Life is a Poem with your friends here:
Share the mirror publication La Vida es un Poema here, with your hispanohablante friends:
Thanks for visiting my Poetry Place! Until soon!