Long Poems on Sylvia Plath
#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
851 reads
8 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
15th Jan 2017 11:26pm
15th Jan 2017 11:26pm
Sacred Contracts XXXIII: 'Dead Poet's Society'*
I
I’ve spent too much time
away from their Holy grounds;
their imagery and metaphors –
ones that molded my belief
through fine point verse
not needing to be understood
to be absolute truth.
Sometimes it’s difficult to grant the dead
an audience when the living demand
every moment you have to give; ...
I’ve spent too much time
away from their Holy grounds;
their imagery and metaphors –
ones that molded my belief
through fine point verse
not needing to be understood
to be absolute truth.
Sometimes it’s difficult to grant the dead
an audience when the living demand
every moment you have to give; ...
#love
#books
#SylviaPlath
1388 reads
23 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
14th Jul 2016 9:25pm
14th Jul 2016 9:25pm
You must know
You must know there are times
I will not choose you over the poem;
nor your email, text or pouting silence
over the verse;
Bulging zippers will not sway me
nor swollen suitcases by the entrance.
If you want to be first in someone’s life
you must know, it can never be mine.
I'll never be the faithful wife
skinning vegetables at the sink;
a gimlet eye’d grandmother supervising,
starched apron and recipe splayed
submissively across the counter -
contents spooned carefully;
the roast, flayed,...
I will not choose you over the poem;
nor your email, text or pouting silence
over the verse;
Bulging zippers will not sway me
nor swollen suitcases by the entrance.
If you want to be first in someone’s life
you must know, it can never be mine.
I'll never be the faithful wife
skinning vegetables at the sink;
a gimlet eye’d grandmother supervising,
starched apron and recipe splayed
submissively across the counter -
contents spooned carefully;
the roast, flayed,...
#SylviaPlath
#WilliamShakespeare
#confessional
#LifeAsAWriter
#PabloNeruda
2185 reads
54 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
693 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
895 reads
2 Comments
Page_Writer
Mad Girl
Mad Girl
Poem Published
17th Jun 2013 8:37pm
17th Jun 2013 8:37pm
Lady Lazarus and Her Advice
I put down the book.
My second time reading it.
It's blue cover, with the picture of legs and older shoes.
Probably brand new when the book was written.
The pink letters of the author's name.
The white letters of the book's title.
I smile down at it.
And get up quietly, trying not to wake my boyfriend.
That lay next to me.
I place it on my shelve.
Along with all my other books by and about this wonderful woman.
I smile thinking of how I'm so happy.
For Esther to get out of the asylum.
She's going to have such a good life now.
I think...
My second time reading it.
It's blue cover, with the picture of legs and older shoes.
Probably brand new when the book was written.
The pink letters of the author's name.
The white letters of the book's title.
I smile down at it.
And get up quietly, trying not to wake my boyfriend.
That lay next to me.
I place it on my shelve.
Along with all my other books by and about this wonderful woman.
I smile thinking of how I'm so happy.
For Esther to get out of the asylum.
She's going to have such a good life now.
I think...
#books
#SylviaPlath
#MyInspiration #memorial
#MyInspiration #memorial
800 reads
0 Comments
blackdahlia__
belladonna
belladonna
Poem Published
22nd Oct 2012 4:47am
22nd Oct 2012 4:47am
Stripping Down in Verses: The Art of Baring the Truth (or Lies) on the Page
That man in a slick olive green polo-shirt is looking right at you, and you think it’s good, it’s a good sign, since all you want to do is to hop on that man’s lap and crumple his collar against your grasp. While doing so, you should notice those colossal, hazel stare: a burst of greenish brown specks like splinters of a tattering surf board in collision with a surge of raging sea water. Yes, in short that man got you bad, so damn bad you don’t mind drowning or becoming a lost cause in the surge of those vast, hazel gazes.
So, what now? Of course, you want him to get up on his...
So, what now? Of course, you want him to get up on his...
#SylviaPlath
#SharonOlds
1096 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Long Poems on Sylvia Plath
#SylviaPlath is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
