Get Your Premium Membership


 There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself --
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.
A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind? Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world, There is only sourness.
This red wall winces continually: A red fist, opening and closing, Two grey, papery bags -- This is what i am made of, this, and a terror Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pieties.
On a black wall, unidentifiable birds Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality amoun these! Cold blanks approach us: They move in a hurry.

Poem by Sylvia Plath
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - ApprehensionsEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

More Poems by Sylvia Plath

Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Apprehensions

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Apprehensions here.