Plath Poems - Poems about Plath

J. Smythe with Sylvia Plath Amongst the trees he walked, a distant form, She, like the leaves, danced in the summer breeze. The plan, he'd hoped, would keep her safe and warm, Suddenly, she demanded her release. The summer passed, and lost to fleeting grace, She searched for luck, a four-leaf clover rare, Amongst the trees, a lost and lonely space, Where music...

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Villanelle: "Beyond the Pane" B. Marquardt-Alexander with Sylvia Plath and Ima Gen (credited to all) In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane, A world outside, where love and joy remain. Where freedom calls, my heart begins to strain. The grass whispers secrets, as I lie in vain, Longing to flee, to leave this heartache's stain. In sunlight's haze, I stare...

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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 hexagonal cells A hive of memories …buzzing with secrets. The bell jar shattered...

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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 feathers. My eyes tick-tock, they’re grave, and my blue hands they...

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Beneath the moon's melancholy glow, Inclosed secrets began to grow. A journey cut, a tale untold, In the closed path, emotions unfold. Her words, a labyrinth of despair, Yet beauty in each poetic layer. Through the closed path, a haunting maze, Sylvia danced in poetic daze. The bell jar's grip, a heavy shroud, In the closed path, whispers loud. Yet, in her verse, a resilient...

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The chalk returns to dust Disappearing the dread of dreamless nights Just to turn into the contents of a cannon ball Where inner turmoil is shot into the blue Blurred electrical pulses - firing in enclosed space Catching fire the curtain lace Looking out from behind the pane Cold glass separating all from pain I view what is mine but what is not A...

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Sylvia Plath ? In this world danced her words, in a poet's breath, Sylvia lived in realms of love and strife, Her verses weaved from darkness to bright wreath, A soul immersed in tumultuous life. With pen in hand, she bared her inner storms, A heart so fragile, yet fierce and wild, Through verses, her emotions took all forms, Her truth, a gift, for...

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PLATH ennui 1&2    snzzzzzzzzz ••••• snzzzzzzz ••••••••(yawn)••••••snzzzzz(yawn)snzzz...

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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 so black it silenced light, war-ridden Wonders in tears, promise of...

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WASH the moon ----> bring some soap between dirty words might have been born unlike fetus' now dead How about Boris Karloff: makeup for monster actor acting so funny i died crying life How fruit flies like bananas weeping finding out how my grandfather clock is so full of bugs - buzz me out she has many roses inside the sad mausoleum of i...

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For Sylvia Plath So where do you float now; Genius of misery Keeper and kept Of those mysterious bees? You would frown at an epitaph, I know. But epitaphs are inevitable, You know. Anyone who's read your lines Wonders how you did it; How those lines, tiny chains, Pullled steady, unified; Dragged you down to face the dark The deep crevices of the mind - Or perhaps you dragged them? I'm...

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tiny diamonds, like two tamed supernovae, in earlobes; a shiny forehead which would do to powder; Sylvia Plath bookmarked with my love letter 31.o8.2019 Writing Challenge 3, August 2019 - Six Lines Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode Syllables Per Line: 5 7 7 5 7 7...

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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 us poe shakespeare and wadsworth so minds of children could grow i never knew...

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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 one hide in a beehive's nest of shopworn lives? Where sorrow turns...

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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 susurrous voice that echoed from cerebral captivity. Such dalliance in...

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