Best Sylvia 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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sylvia

***this concerns several books I once owned.
Some were written by Rod McKuen, others by
Richard Brautigan, others by others…***

i discovered that words are  
like some decadent dessert
too small to cause harm but too big 
to have a second helping

in the margins of tattered books
were scribbled...

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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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SYLVIA WAS AN ‘A’ STUDENT 
and Alpha woman

The Abyss was bared, and malevolently yawning,
The deep black pit of endless loss to rile
You, and you didn’t know the world was turning;

And you saw the winter trees in mourning
You weren’t short-changed on their willing lack of guile
In...

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Sylvia I was christened
And for sixteen years it suited fine.
It was then I started working
Where another had this name of mine.
"To avoid confusion"some bright spark said
"Why not call the original(fifty year old)Sylvia by her name
And the new one junior instead"
Well I was most indignant,teenage ego...

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Sylvia Plath left
Her poetry immortal
Why—we never know...

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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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She knew how to write
felt every change in the wind
died on the sabbath...

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Sylvia stays sedentary still seeking superiority 
Sometimes summarizing situations so subtilely*, 
Suddenly somnambulistic, she slips silently
Sensing some sarcastic silliness, soon senility. 

*alternate, archaic spelling for “subtly.”

SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written June 28, 2022
For "Begin With a Letter" poetry contest
sponsored by Angela Tune...

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Why, in a gas oven, dear Sylvia,
     did you stick your pretty, middle-class head?
Was the life of upper suburbia
     too much for you that you'd rather be dead?

If, like you, we gassed ourselves to death at thirty,
...

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

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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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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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