Poems on Sylvia Plath Seeking Friendly Advice
#SylviaPlath
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
22nd Mar 2017 7:36pm
22nd Mar 2017 7:36pm
A Writers Mind (uncut)
1
To delve into darkened detrition
to carry this blank rendition
of all I wanted to say,
I'm trapped in a writers mind
unable to escape belligerent and blind.
Words that kicked me, I kicked back
spitting soothsome surly smack.
Some of it does come from within,
I can't tell from how far down into
a murky din.
Turn back now, didn't you see the sign?
You want to read on; watch out its a
field of mines.
Step so lightly to not be destroyed,
the heart wears shoes that heavily cloy.
What will I write next, ask me...
To delve into darkened detrition
to carry this blank rendition
of all I wanted to say,
I'm trapped in a writers mind
unable to escape belligerent and blind.
Words that kicked me, I kicked back
spitting soothsome surly smack.
Some of it does come from within,
I can't tell from how far down into
a murky din.
Turn back now, didn't you see the sign?
You want to read on; watch out its a
field of mines.
Step so lightly to not be destroyed,
the heart wears shoes that heavily cloy.
What will I write next, ask me...
#nature
#SylviaPlath
#LifeAsAWriter
854 reads
8 Comments
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
23rd Jan 2017 11:16pm
23rd Jan 2017 11:16pm
Life And Death
Show me life and death, My Love,
Take me to the place where
You converted.
Lead me into the dark,
Red swimming sea of microbia
Leveled by basic necessities.
Walk me along the
Frailsome fringe of finality,
Of deaths swan song inquisition.
Why, Why? ---
Did you die:
A white, pale shaft of reason;
Such tremulous resplendence.
The reasons why ---
All stood in neat rows like
Spring tulips emerging in
Warring lamp-light
At daybreak.
Oh, Sodden-you ---
Becoming...
Take me to the place where
You converted.
Lead me into the dark,
Red swimming sea of microbia
Leveled by basic necessities.
Walk me along the
Frailsome fringe of finality,
Of deaths swan song inquisition.
Why, Why? ---
Did you die:
A white, pale shaft of reason;
Such tremulous resplendence.
The reasons why ---
All stood in neat rows like
Spring tulips emerging in
Warring lamp-light
At daybreak.
Oh, Sodden-you ---
Becoming...
#death
#SylviaPlath
1188 reads
10 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
31st May 2016 7:15pm
31st May 2016 7:15pm
Blood jet is poetry: after Plath
And here you come, with a cup of tea
Wreathed in Steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it.
~ Plath
Your poems: I feel like I enter a forest
of toothpick trees, a rigid summer
where shadows fossilize
the lungs of poetry asthmatic—
wheezing air does not absorb;
but, there is a silence here—
I do not feel alone.
I seek artifacts, pooled
in the sweating hollow of your verse
I read and read and...
Wreathed in Steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it.
~ Plath
Your poems: I feel like I enter a forest
of toothpick trees, a rigid summer
where shadows fossilize
the lungs of poetry asthmatic—
wheezing air does not absorb;
but, there is a silence here—
I do not feel alone.
I seek artifacts, pooled
in the sweating hollow of your verse
I read and read and...
#SylviaPlath
1347 reads
36 Comments
thepositivelydark
Poem Published
8th Apr 2016 2:51pm
8th Apr 2016 2:51pm
The Bell Jar
But I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure at all. How did I know that someday—at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere—the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again?" - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
There were no red roses to anger me
Yet I was a storm inside on the day of my birth
Raging around my own asylum cell
Waiting for someone to tell me
That I'm fine
That they'll take care of everything
I left behind
The golden girl was long gone
With her honors, and college, and contests, and prizes
Replaced by someone...
There were no red roses to anger me
Yet I was a storm inside on the day of my birth
Raging around my own asylum cell
Waiting for someone to tell me
That I'm fine
That they'll take care of everything
I left behind
The golden girl was long gone
With her honors, and college, and contests, and prizes
Replaced by someone...
#teens
#confessional
#SylviaPlath
#myself
#dreams
694 reads
2 Comments
toniscales
Lost Girl
Lost Girl
Poem Published
13th Apr 2015 12:02pm
13th Apr 2015 12:02pm
Staring at a Photo of Sylvia Plath on Her Paris Honeymoon, 1956
(written for LSP's "Ode to the Female Poet" competition)
I am looking down on you, my love,
and quite sad among the quiet.
I see God in your eyes,
God is the light around you,
the halo that is your shoulders,
rib-cage, soft pockmark of your belly
in a lush tweed wave crowning
the midnight beach.
It has grown cold outside, too cold,
for the fingers weep and freeze
in place. I would wish to sit
and smoke, efface my eyes in such
a vapor, so I might never see again.
But there is a chill that bites,...
I am looking down on you, my love,
and quite sad among the quiet.
I see God in your eyes,
God is the light around you,
the halo that is your shoulders,
rib-cage, soft pockmark of your belly
in a lush tweed wave crowning
the midnight beach.
It has grown cold outside, too cold,
for the fingers weep and freeze
in place. I would wish to sit
and smoke, efface my eyes in such
a vapor, so I might never see again.
But there is a chill that bites,...
#SylviaPlath
896 reads
2 Comments
thepositivelydark
Poem Published
13th Nov 2013 8:43am
13th Nov 2013 8:43am
Low Spark
I wish I could be the spark
To start a dazzling flame
To reduce someone to ash
And never be the same
I wish I could be a muse
Who makes someone bemused
And play no games
But write poetry to my name
But I am still hidden
I am still unfound
Waiting for a thing unbidden
To set me unbound
Give me your melody
Give me your sounds
And I'll give you me
My words, profound
I hear the creak of a door
A giggle from the street
The tap on the cold floor
Of my stiff cold feet
I get lost in the world...
To start a dazzling flame
To reduce someone to ash
And never be the same
I wish I could be a muse
Who makes someone bemused
And play no games
But write poetry to my name
But I am still hidden
I am still unfound
Waiting for a thing unbidden
To set me unbound
Give me your melody
Give me your sounds
And I'll give you me
My words, profound
I hear the creak of a door
A giggle from the street
The tap on the cold floor
Of my stiff cold feet
I get lost in the world...
#dreams
#SylviaPlath
#myself
995 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems on Sylvia Plath Seeking Friendly Advice
#SylviaPlath is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
