Short Plath Poems

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

Read More

Be like Sylvia
Plath sanctified her broken
leg and cast in verse...

Read More

PLATH ennui 1&2

   snzzzzzzzzz ••••• snzzzzzzz ••••••••(yawn)••••••snzzzzz(yawn)snzzz...

Read More

e e cummings 'AFTER FIVE'

     vi6vii7viii8


Slyvi Plath ' CANDLES '

   ()  ()  ()
  |  | || |  |...

Read More

Anne Sexton nee Harvey
like Plath grew upin Wellsley
A student of Robert Lowell
known for his 'verse confessionel'...

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath


White wisps in 
killing glow 
dissolve.

Whiteness
won't redeem her;
arctic and stark,
bright yet lifeless.

Barren,  
a spectre 
without purpose,

she teeters 
in darkness, 
alone in her lordliness....

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath
 

Her grasp of things is gone,
she fiddles, and is lost 
with no prospect of redress.

She hovers shapeless,
rudderless, 
in a storm-toss'd mess.

Substanceless, tottering
in limbo's loveless hold,
merely dross....

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath


Her grasp of things is gone,
she meddles and is lost 
with no prospect of redress.

She hovers shapeless,
rudderless in a
storm-toss'd mess.

Substanceless, tottering
in limbo's loveless hold,
only dross....

Read More

There are grill marks on the frozen chicken
  though they’ve never known the grill.

The man in line behind me laughs
  and it’s warm like orange oven coils.

I miss
   Sylvia Plath

and hate the grill marks on the frozen chicken....

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath
 

Her grasp of things is gone,
she fiddles, and is lost 
with no prospect of redress.

She hovers shapeless,
rudderless, 
in a storm-toss'd mess.

Substanceless, tottering
in limbo's loveless hold,
merely dross....

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath


White wisps in 
killing glow 
dissolve.

Whiteness
won't absolve her;
arctic and stark
it wills her ill.

She's hollow,  
assured of 
missing 
opportunities.

She swaggers 
in darkness, 
alone in her lordliness....

Read More

I often wonder
          how Plath could have stayed 
             a year more longer
                        and 
   a million winters with fragrance of spring
             would have embraced us 
                       with
              warmth of summer!...

Read More

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...

Read More

My mother, Sylvia Plath,
These days, I might laugh,
Electric oven, you know!
I was too young to know,
One way to go--
It was too young to know,
I used to live in dread,
I learnt what blackmail meant,
She got cremated, you know,
I was too young to know,
These days, I  might laugh,
My mother, Sylvia Plath....

Read More

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...

Read More

a brilliant poet named Plath
whose spouse stirred up lot of wrath
they both became well known
yet, was held prone alone
gone survived her, do the math


Written: November 04, 2022

A Funny Limerick - Make Me Laugh Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin


Checked by HMS.COM: 7-7-6-6-7...

Read More

...for Sylvia Plath


Her grasp of things is gone,
she meddles, she is lost 
with no prospect of redress.

She hovers shapeless,
rudderless in a
storm-toss'd mess.

Substanceless, tottering
in limbo's loveless hold,
only dross.



(Note: One of her poetic devices 
         was the use of multiple double-
         vowel and double consonant words.)...

Read More

Dylan Thomas. Silvia Plath and Edgar Allen Poe     These are names      That we all know    Fought their demons     All their lifes     A pen in their hand     To give them advice     Does the pain go away     When the words are put down     In for a penny     In for a pound     Only their ghosts     Can shed the light     All the heartache     Was it worth the fight...

Read More

Fame will ruin everything!
Just ask
Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton
They paid for it
with their happiness,
their lives.
They yearned for it
and once
it was achieved
they couldn't handle it,
let it get
the best of them.
So be careful of
what you strive for
because it 
could cost you
more than
can be imagined
in this jostled
situation that 
we exist in....

Read More

Apparantly i should have a style
I don't know about that...
Sometimes I feell like Sylvia Plath;
Sometimes Robbie Burns.
But all the time I feel like me -
And my mood.
Does that make me a lesser poet?
I don't know...
But I do know
That I
May feel sad one day
But happy the next.

It's a conundrum!

So many poets
So many styles...
Sometimes feels like
An 'Unquiet Grave'....

Read More

Whale-bone satchel hidden underneath
The husband comes in to take the sheath
From his wife, 
To pull away the knife.
Support this cradled strap
Call the cartographer for a map
To chart the followed Path,
Taken before by Plath.
Hold the chest
For this test 
Of love,
Of affection
From above,
This rejection
Holds still a toy
For a boy
And twirls 
For a girl....

Read More

FOR YOU NICOLE

The night the blood on the sod
Looks your birthday apron that
Wipes off a murderer's sweat.

Hands besmeared with slime,
Smell of putrid snick,maniac
Who has to inherit a corner of
Underbrush,Nicole, to lie
On your cold lips.




Poe in Plath style - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: July Morning
POET: RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
10th February, 2018...

Read More

I salt the soil of my mind
spew forth a regurgitated mash
of syllables and vowels
meted out in a rhythm
only a lunatic could dance to
Buy me a package of 
instant identity- a dash of Plath,
some Tagore for good measure
that I would no longer be distracted by
the sound of my own pen tapping
on an empty page
Deceitful brain!
How you've betrayed me
Your promise is dry ink
and screeds of nothing...

Read More

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 by sticking her head in a gas stove and turning it on. In so doing, she left two kids-- in some circles that is cowardly.)...

Read More

Sylvia Plath, you will never fully be gone
Your writing inspires others to throw feelings onto a page
Forthright, honest, sad, angry, horrible, feelings
Feelings that used to be hidden,

You made outing emotion an art form
Through your poetry
Many now write of cutting
Something new, you might not have thought of

If you lived today, I imagine this would go into your poems
For it is a good fit for you.
A very
Good
Fit...

Read More