Ode For Ted by Sylvia Plath
From under the crunch of my man’s boot green oat-sprouts jut; he names a lapwing, starts rabbits in a rout legging it most nimble to sprigged hedge of bramble, stalks red fox, shrewd stoat. Loam-humps, he says, moles shunt up from delved worm-haunt; blue fur, moles have; hefting chalk-hulled flint he with rock splits open […]
Notes To A Neophyte by Sylvia Plath
Take the general mumble, blunt as the faceless gut of an anonymous clam, vernacular as the strut of a slug or a small preamble by snail under hump of home: metamorphose the mollusk of vague vocabulary with the structural discipline: stiffen the ordinary malleable mask to the granite grin of bone. For such a tempering […]
Nick And The Candlestick by Sylvia Plath
I am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactites Drip and thicken, tears The earthen womb Exudes from its dead boredom. Black bat airs Wrap me, raggy shawls, Cold homicides. They weld to me like plums. Old cave of calcium Icicles, old echoer. Even the newts are white, Those holy Joes. And the fish, […]
New Year On Dartmoor by Sylvia Plath
This is newness : every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinking in a saint’s falsetto. Only you Don’t know what to make of the sudden slippiness, The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant. There’s no getting up it by the words you know. No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe. We […]
Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss by Sylvia Plath
Never try to trick me with a kiss Pretending that the birds are here to stay; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. A stone can masquerade where no heart is And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay: Never try to trick me with a kiss. Our noble doctor claims the pain is […]
Mussel Hunter At Rock Harbor by Sylvia Plath
I came before the water — Colorists came to get the Good of the Cape light that scours Sand grit to sided crystal And buffs and sleeks the blunt hulls Of the three fishing smacks beached On the bank of the river’s Backtracking tail. I’d come for Free fish-bait: the blue mussels Clumped like bulbs […]
Morning In The Hospital Solarium by Sylvia Plath
Sunlight strikes a glass of grapefruit juice, flaring green through philodendron leaves in this surrealistic house of pink and beige, impeccable bamboo, patronized by convalescent wives; heat shadows waver noiseless in bright window-squares until the women seem to float like dream-fish in the languid limbo of an undulant aquarium. Morning: another day, and talk taxis […]
Moonsong At Morning by Sylvia Plath
O moon of illusion, enchanting men with tinsel vision along the vein, cocks crow up a rival to mock your face and eclipse that oval which conjured us to leave our reason and come to this fabled horizon of caprice. Dawn shall dissever your silver veil which let lover think lover beautiful; the light of […]
Monologue At 3 AM by Sylvia Plath
Better that every fiber crack and fury make head, blood drenching vivid couch, carpet, floor and the snake-figured almanac vouching you are a million green counties from here, than to sit mute, twitching so under prickling stars, with stare, with curse blackening the time goodbyes were said, trains let go, and I, great magnanimous fool, […]
Miss Drake Proceeds To Supper by Sylvia Plath
No novice In those elaborate rituals Which allay the malice Of knotted table and crooked chair, The new woman in the ward Wears purple, steps carefully Among her secret combinations of eggshells And breakable hummingbirds, Footing sallow as a mouse Between the cabbage-roses Which are slowly opening their furred petals To devour and drag her […]
Metamorphoses Of The Moon by Sylvia Plath
Cold moons withdraw, refusing to come to terms with the pilot who dares all heaven’s harms to raid the zone where fate begins, flings silver gauntlet of his plane at space, demanding satisfaction; no duel takes place: the mute air merely thins and thins. Sky won’t be drawn closer: absolute, it holds aloof, a shrouded […]
Memoirs Of A Spinach-Picker by Sylvia Plath
They called the place Lookout Farm. Back then, the sun Didn’t go down in such a hurry. How it Lit things, that lamp of the Possible! Wet yet Lay over the leaves like a clear cellophane, A pane of dragonfly wing, when they left me With a hundred bushel baskets on the edge Of the […]
Mary’s Song by Sylvia Plath
The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat. The fat Sacrifices its opacity. . . . A window, holy gold. The fire makes it precious, The same fire Melting the tallow heretics, Ousting the Jews. Their thick palls float Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out Germany. They do not die. Grey birds obsess my heart, Mouth-ash, […]
Man In Black by Sylvia Plath
Where the three magenta Breakwaters take the shove And suck of the grey sea To the left, and the wave Unfists against the dun Barb-wired headland of The Deer Island prison With its trim piggeries, Hen huts and cattle green To the right, and March ice Glazes the rock pools yet, Snuff-colored sand cliffs rise […]
Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath
“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that […]
Love Is A Parallax by Sylvia Plath
‘Perspective betrays with its dichotomy: train tracks always meet, not here, but only in the impossible mind’s eye; horizons beat a retreat as we embark on sophist seas to overtake that mark where wave pretends to drench real sky.’ ‘Well then, if we agree, it is not odd that one man’s devil is another’s god […]
Letter To A Purist by Sylvia Plath
That grandiose colossus who Stood astride The envious assaults of sea (Essaying, wave by wave, Tide by tide, To undo him, perpetually), Has nothing on you, O my love, O my great idiot, who With one foot Caught (as it were) in the muck-trap Of skin and bone, Dithers with the other way out In […]
Letter In November by Sylvia Plath
Love, the world Suddenly turns, turns color. The streetlight Splits through the rat’s tail Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning. It is the Arctic, This little black Circle, with its tawn silk grasses – babies hair. There is a green in the air, Soft, delectable. It cushions me lovingly. I am flushed […]
A Lesson In Vengeance by Sylvia Plath
In the dour ages Of drafty cells and draftier castles, Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables, Saint and king unfisted obstruction’s knuckles By no miracle or majestic means, But by such abuses As smack of spite and the overscrupulous Twisting of thumbscrews: one soul tied in sinews, One white horse drowned, and all […]
Leaving Early by Sylvia Plath
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers. When you kick me out, that’s what I’ll remember, Me, sitting here bored as a loepard In your jungle of wine-bottle lamps, Velvet pillows the color of blood pudding And the white china flying fish from Italy. I forget you, hearing the cut flowers Sipping their liquids from […]
Last Words by Sylvia Plath
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the moon, to stare up. I want to be looking at them when they come Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots. I see them already – the pale, star-distance faces. Now they are […]
Landowners by Sylvia Plath
From my rented attic with no earth To call my own except the air-motes, I malign the leaden perspective Of identical gray brick houses, Orange roof-tiles, orange chimney pots, And see that first house, as if between Mirrors, engendering a spectral Corridor of inane replicas, Flimsily peopled. But landowners Own thier cabbage roots, a space […]
Insolent Storm Strikes At The Skull by Sylvia Plath
Insolent storm strikes at the skull, assaults the sleeping citadel, knocking the warden to his knees in impotence, to sue for peace, while wantonly amused by this, wind wakes the whole metropolis. Skeptic cyclones try the bone of strict and sacred skeleton; polemic gales prove point by point how flesh cleaves fast to frozen joint, […]
In Plaster by Sylvia Plath
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the old yellow one, And the white person is certainly the superior one. She doesn’t need food, she is one of the real saints. At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality – She […]
In Midas’ Country by Sylvia Plath
Meadows of gold dust. The silver Currents of the Connecticut fan And meander in bland pleatings under River-verge farms where rye-heads whiten. All’s polished to a dull luster In the sulfurous noon. We move With the languor of idols below The sky’s great bell glass and briefly engrave Our limbs’ image on a field of […]
Go Get The Goodly Squab by Sylvia Plath
Go get the goodly squab in gold-lobed corn And pluck the droll-flecked quail where thick they lie; Reap the round blue pigeon from roof ridge, But let the fast-feathered eagle fly. Let the fast-feathered eagle fly And the skies crack through with thunder; Hide, hide, in the deep nest Lest the lightning strike you to […]
For A Fatherless Son by Sylvia Plath
You will be aware of an absence, presently, Growing beside you, like a tree, A death tree, color gone, an Australian gum tree — Balding, gelded by lightning-an illusion, And a sky like a pig’s backside, an utter lack of attention. But right now you are dumb. And I love your stupidity, The blind mirror […]
Flute Notes From A Reedy Pond by Sylvia Plath
Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer, To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old umbrellas of summer Wither like pithless hands. There is little shelter. Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges its blank Dominion. The stars are no nearer. Already frog-mouth and fish-mouth drink The liquor of indolence, and all […]
Faun by Sylvia Plath
Haunched like a faun, he hooed From grove of moon-glint and fen-frost Until all owls in the twigged forest Flapped black to look and brood On the call this man made. No sound but a drunken coot Lurching home along river bank. Stars hung water-sunk, so a rank Of double star-eyes lit Boughs where those […]
Family Reunion by Sylvia Plath
Outside in the street I hear A car door slam; voices coming near; Incoherent scraps of talk And high heels clicking up the walk; The doorbell rends the noonday heat With copper claws; A second’s pause. The dull drums of my pulses beat Against a silence wearing thin. The door now opens from within. Oh, […]
Fable Of The Rhododendron Stealers by Sylvia Plath
I walked the unwalked garden of rose-beds In the public park; at home felt the want Of a single rose present to imagine The garden’s remainder in full paint. The stone lion-head set in the wall Let drop its spittle of sluggish green Into the stone basin. I snipped An orange bud, pocketed it. When […]
Epitaph In Three Parts by Sylvia Plath
(1) Rocking across the lapis lazuli sea comes a flock of bottle battleships each with a telegram addressed to me. ‘Destroy your mirror and avoid mishaps,’ chirps the first; ‘live on a silent island where the water blots out all footsteps.’ The second sings: ‘Receive no roving gallant who seeks to dally in the port […]
Epitaph For Fire And Flower by Sylvia Plath
You might as well haul up This wave’s green peak on wire To prevent fall, or anchor the fluent air In quartz, as crack your skull to keep These two most perishable lovers from the touch That will kindle angels’ envy, scorch and drop Their fond hearts charred as any match. Seek no stony camera-eye […]
Electra On Azalea Path by Sylvia Plath
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzard Like hieratic stones, and the ground is hard. It was good for twenty years, that wintering – As if you never existed, as if I came God-fathered into the world from my […]
Dream With Clam-Diggers by Sylvia Plath
This dream budded bright with leaves around the edges, Its clear air winnowed by angels; she was come Back to her early sea-town home Scathed, stained after tedious pilgrimages. Barefoot, she stood, in shock of that returning, Beside a neighbor’s house With shingles burnished as glass, Blinds lowered on that hot morning. No change met […]
Doom Of Exiles by Sylvia Plath
Now we, returning from the vaulted domes Of our colossal sleep, come home to find A tall metropolis of catacombs Erected down the gangways of our mind. Green alleys where we reveled have become The infernal haunt of demon dangers; Both seraph song and violins are dumb; Each clock tick consecrates the death of strangers […]
Dirge For A Joker by Sylvia Plath
Always in the middle of a kiss Came the profane stimulus to cough; Always from teh pulpit during service Leaned the devil prompting you to laugh. Behind mock-ceremony of your grief Lurked the burlesque instinct of the ham; You never altered your amused belief That life was a mere monumental sham. From the comic accident […]
Death & Co. by Sylvia Plath
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now– The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded And balled¸ like Blake’s. Who exhibits The birthmarks that are his trademark– The scald scar of water, The nude Verdigris of the condor. I am red meat. His beak Claps sidewise: I am not […]
Crossing The Water by Sylvia Plath
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must cover Canada. A little light is filtering from the water flowers. Their leaves do not wish us to hurry: They are round and flat and full of dark advice. Cold worlds shake from the oar. […]
Conversation Among The Ruins by Sylvia Plath
Through portico of my elegant house you stalk With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back. Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light Of your stormy eye, magic takes […]