Hallmark Guerrilla: A Writing Exercise

This morning, someone in my household (hint: his name rhymes with Schmyler) came up with the brilliant idea of going through a bunch of document boxes to see if there was anything in them that could be tossed. So I spent a couple of hours going through old correspondence (yeah, I grew up in the days when the USPS occasionally delivered something other than the Tuesday Penny Saver), and then, in a sudden frenzy of “I need to throw something away NOW, or I will have wasted my entire morning!” decided to chuck several folders full of teaching materials.

There's one writing exercise I decided I needed to save in electronic form. It's something I used in the poetry writing class I taught back in – what, 2005? I'd totally forgotten about it, so it was kind of fun to encounter it again.

Here's how it works:

1. Each person brings to class the schmaltziest Hallmark love poem they can find. (It isn't necessary to actually buy the card – it's fine to simply copy the text. Yes, anyone who wanders down the greeting card aisle will look at you askance, but at least you won't be “voting” for bad poetry with your hard-earned dollars.)
2. Each person reads his/her candidate aloud to the rest of the class, followed by a brief explanation of what made the poem schmaltzy.
3. Mock writing workshop: identify what's not working in the poems, and come up with suggestions for improvement. (Sorry, all you Hallmark poets out there: I know this is like being tried in absentia....)
4. Class discussion: What common problems did we observe? How do we avoid making those kinds of mistakes in our own poetry?

I'll copy two examples here:

I. Sometimes I wish

you and I had just met

And we had a whole lifetime

ahead of us yet

It's fun to imagine us

starting brand-new

with so many wonderful

things we could do.

And maybe this time

we'd avoid some mistakes

Or manage to catch

a few luckier breaks

But you know, I just can't

imagine a way

We'd be happier, ever,

than we are today.

II. I love you

I love your eyes

I love your smile

I love the way you eat spaghetti

I love the way you kiss

I love the way you look at me

I love the way you spoil me

I love your walk

I love it when you act silly

I love the way you look when you wake up

I love the way you love me...

And that's just the beginning.

The first poem sounds like Dr. Seuss wrote it: there's that sing-songy anapest, the predictable end-rhyme – catchy enough, but pretty silly sounding. What would happen if it were written in a different meter, with a different rhyme scheme, or no rhymes at all?

The second poem might as well be titled, “One Love Fits All” – it's just a catalog of generalizations. What if each line were made much more specific, even absurd? (e.g., I love the way you eat spaghetti / With your fork between your toes)?