Best Plath Poems

In ode to all who succumb
through wayward passages
lined of scribble notes
dripping ink’s savagery,
staining cursive patterns
in Sylvia-like depressions

Jarred bells ring
down lost tunnels
around each dark corner…clang
from steeples we chase
and beds we lie
draped in sadness
and shapes of
poetic happenstance

Tear drop vinaigrette
spiced of leftover lifetimes
drizzled on leafy desperation
bids a tired...

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i never knew who she was
until i was called "plath-like";
same obscured thoughts
abundant in poetic frame of mind

i scribble thoughts
like shadows on walls
beneath a pale moon
that play in the corner
where darkness looms
then fade out
before the bloody rise
of cockcrow 

i never knew who she was;
back then
they fed...

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The raven is too hyperactive at my window pane.
Hear how noisy its wings are; was napping, now knocking knees.
Was about to turn over, with restrictions of the homebound,
As the shadows fly off tight walls, this cot, my face.
I am bothered; I am covered in ebonic...

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There's a cold dark place 
Sylvia Plath has been inside 
A kind of sacrificial lamb
An experiment of sorts 
Misogyny for the masses
A Hitler for wives 
Dust that, rub this, 
Lunch is cold, you shall pay! 
Only one way out
Put the lunch in the gas oven
Warm...

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Dust rises thick with grim, sweat drips from rims
of drug-store eyes he wears to spy. 
A parting of the slats, which dangle by twin hooks
This Moses at the sea
will look, and count, to see who's home, who's come, who's gone

Behind a brick façade, what makes...

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What she might have been was hidden
Beneath self-destruction and depression
Despair so black it silenced light, war-ridden

Life without purpose, true love forbidden
Leaving darkest doubt lost in the impression
What she might have been was hidden

Her emotions, joy and hope, bedridden
A hole in her soul reflects every transgression
Despair...

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Psychotic pain rips her flesh from bone
Leaving her ragged skeletal shadow brutally
Assaulted by maniacal horror imperceptible to the mentally normal
Temptation conquers her and she welcomes serene death with poisonous applause, gas her invisible
Hangman’s noose-forever silencing her...

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SYLVIA PLATH IS A DANGEROUS WOMAN

here she is:  the true resurrection,
the big reveal of the woman,
the poet who charges
for a word, a touch,
a speck of  blood.
after all, she has come back
three times to his 

one.  

unlike the christ man 
she charges yet...

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Sylvia Plath,
walked on dangerous path,
she and herself always in a rift,
and she gave death her precious gift.












Sylvia Plath was one poet I was particularly obsessed with as a young girl because I found out that I wrote some of my early poems(the ones I wrote...

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The tearaway, youthful runaway
Running for a lifetime, blocked out
Brick wall, but, those same
Old demons stuck to your back
Demon wings like barnacles
To the hull of your iron heart
Beating under apron strings

Ever since "Daddy" left, Electra
You have been a tulip, caught
In a Slavic winter. Redraw 
The map....

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Having succumbed to suicidal insouciance,
From which mellifluous melted words dripped,
She fought the nemesis of the inner annoyance,
Who beleaguered her with languishing lips.  

The lithe lips whose fingers scratched labyrinthian letters,
Upon parchment paper with opulent serendipity,
Ever flowing in metric harmony by her gossamer tethers,
Of her...

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You are a lost, lonely little girl
                       Have another dose of medicine to ease the pain
       ...

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Sylvia Plath you don't know how much love my pants hath...
For you-- you stupid Jew--
I'll show you the rack and the screw--
With my rod you will know whose God--
For with every shove
You will feel my Love


You can't fathom your problem


(Sylvia Plath killed herself through asphyxiation...

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Students study her sadness
Librarians hide away her books
From clumsy, shy teenagers
While she floats like a golden lotus
Amidst fierce flames
She doesn't even remember that winter morning
When she went into her kitchen
And turned on the gas –
The world was cold on that day
Grey people, hidden sun, black...

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I emerged / born 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...

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