Poetry of Ephemera

Every issue of Poets & Writers has a page titled, “The Time Is Now: Writing Prompts and Exercises,” which has three prompts” Poetry, Fiction, and Nonfiction. The poetry prompt in the Nov/Dec 2018 Poets&Writers says to “make a list of objects or ephemera that have played a prominent role in your life in the past two or three years, including items that have figured into international news. Write a poem in response to a selection of these objects, exploring any emotional ties you have to them and their significance to larger social issues.”

Ephemera is such a great word. It is the plural of ephemeron and means items designed to be useful or important for only a short time, especially pamphlets, notices, tickets, etc. I find the “or” in the prompt instructions odd as ephemera are objects. But an interesting exercise none the less.

When I looked up “poetry of ephemera” on the internet, I got some interesting results. I found Ephemera by Ann Lauterbach which is a portfolio of photographs and captions. I found the poem “Ephemera” by W.B. Yeats. And I found two poetry collections _{(assoc. links)}: Ephemera by Sierra DeMulder, and The Ephemera & The Eternal by Kai Mei.

The Prompts

NaPoWriMo : start by taking a look at Alicia Ostriker’s poem, “The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog.” Now try your hand at writing your own poem about how a pair or trio very different things would perceive of a blessing or, alternatively, how these very different things would think of something else (luck, grief, happiness, etc).

PAD Challenge : take the phrase “Tell (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Today’s Poem

Tell us the joy of the doctor, his skeleton, and the crime tape

Finding a healthy heart
hearing its steady beat
makes me want to dance,
said the doctor smiling,
and a day without
finding a tumor;
that is pure joy.

Not being feared,
side-glanced with a grimace
while fleshy fingers
flutter over muscled thighs,
whispered the doctor’s skeleton,
hanging in the corner.
Being observed as the fact
that I am the stable center
of industry would bring me joy.

A day of rest
just one day
staying rolled, still
in a dark closet or trunk,
says the yellow crime tape
across the gaping shattered-glass
door of the doctor’s office
overlooking the body-shaped tape
and the blood stain.
I dream of that joy.

See you tomorrow!