Silver Solitude on Storm's Edge
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With a silver pen scratching against the storm within me, I delve into the fractured life of Sylvia Plath. My poem is a tribute to Sylvia, one of the most favorite and influential and tragic poets of the 20th century. I tried to use creative imagery and symbolism to portray Plath's struggles with depression, the weight of her father's absence, her turbulent marriage to poet Ted Hughes, her artistic achievements, the shattering of societal expectations, and her suicide at the age of 30 (Feb 11th, 1963). My poem also explores the themes of identity, femininity, creativity, and death that pervade Plath's own poetry. The title, Silver Solitude on Storm's Edge, reflects Plath's isolation and despair, as well as her brilliance and courage. My poem is divided into four sections, each corresponding to a different phase of Plath's life: childhood, marriage, motherhood, and death. To some degree, I tried to adopt Plath's first person's voice and perspective, creating a sense of intimacy and empathy with the reader while integrating smattering pieces of her poems. Prepare to walk with me along this knife's edge, where madness dances with brilliance and where death becomes a chillingly artistic act of defiance. Come, face the darkness, and discover the fierce lioness at her heart.
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I emerged with a silver pen in hand,
…and a tempest raging within.
Words writhe, a serpent's coil,
…tightening their grip,
A soul adrift in a sea of
…self-made iniquity.
I buried my daddy
…in the black shoe,
…by the Yew tree
Yes, I, the beekeeper’s daughter,
…bearing the weight of hexagonal cells,
A hive of memories,
…buzzing with secrets.
The bell jar shattered,
….a fractured hive,
Its glass walls no longer a prison,
…but a shattered cocoon,
……a metamorphous.
Pain and disdain drip like honey,
…a bittersweet nectar of survival.
He, a poet,
…crowned in the harsh light of fame,
Bound in chains of duty and shame,
His words,
…a romance of lure and alarm,
Echoing the sirens' song,
…enticing and harmful.
Yet, his tongue,
…a viper’s forked lie,
Whispers truths and half-truths,
…conjuring illusions to die.
Wandering the maze of being,
A little fugue of
…fractured fairytales,
Each note a fleeting glimpse of clarity,
Lost in the discordant
…cacophony of life's emptiness.
Like my "Little Fugue," a dance of shadows,
A journey through the corridors of the mind,
Seeking answers in the interplay of light and dark,
Striving for harmony amidst the chaos.
Parchment of blood and ink I leave,
A riddle of life and death's plea,
Maniacal madness, visions slight,
A macabre dance upon the night.
Ariel, brings lightning and fire!
With heavy heart,
…I sealed my children's room,
Softly kissed them farewell,
……Extinguishing the final flame within,
Enveloped in oblivion's velvet veil,
………Yielding to the oven’s cold caress.
…………No, more morning songs
Inscribed a cryptic goodbye,
Breathed in the silent slayer,
For, I Lady Lazarus,
…Dying is an art
……Faded into the ether…
Her blacks crackle and drag, a fire of new birth,
Flames licking at the borders of life,
Consumed by oblivion's greedy blaze,
Lost in the vast cosmic ray.
The embers die,
…a fleeting spark gone,
No masterpiece,
…….just dust reclaimed,
A silent echo in the void unstained,
A mystery lost,
………never quite explained.
Yet, God's Lioness,
...Fierce and Untamed,
Roaring her defiance,
…Covered in darkness…
----
Underneath the star-strewn skies,
A fleeting passing note,
Lost in the vast expanse,
Living on the edge,
For, I am but a speck of dust.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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