Stopped Dead by Sylvia Plath
A squeal of brakes. Or is it a birth cry? And here we are, hung out over the dead drop Uncle, pants factory Fatso, millionaire. And you out cold beside me in your chair. The wheels, two rubber grubs, bite their sweet tails. Is that Spain down there? Red and yellow, two passionate hot metals […]
Stings by Sylvia Plath
Bare-handed, I hand the combs. The man in white smiles, bare-handed, Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet, The throats of our wrists brave lilies. He and I Have a thousand clean cells between us, Eight combs of yellow cups, And the hive itself a teacup, White with pink flowers on it, With excessive love I […]
Stillborn by Sylvia Plath
These poems do not live: it’s a sad diagnosis.They grew their toes and fingers well enough,Their little foreheads bulged with concentration.If they missed out on walking about like peopleIt wasn’t for any lack of mother-love. O I cannot explain what happened to them!They are proper in shape and number and every part.They sit so nicely […]
Spinster by Sylvia Plath
Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck By the bird’s irregular babel And the leaves’ litter. By this tumult afflicted, she Observed her lover’s gestures unbalance the air, His gait stray uneven Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower; She judged […]
Spider by Sylvia Plath
Anansi, black busybody of the folktales, You scuttle out on impulse Blunt in self-interest As a sledge hammer, as a man’s bunched fist, Yet of devils the cleverest To get your carousals told: You spun the cosmic web: you squint from center field. Last summer I came upon your Spanish cousin, Notable robber baron, Behind […]
Sow by Sylvia Plath
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed His great sow: Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid In the same way He kept the sow-impounded from public stare, Prize ribbon and pig show. But one dusk our questions commended us to a tour Through his lantern-lit Maze of barns to the lintel of […]
Southern Sunrise by Sylvia Plath
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds, On arrowy stems, Pineapple-barked, A green crescent of palms Sends up its forked Firework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawn Inch by bright inch Gilds all our Avenue, And […]
Snakecharmer by Sylvia Plath
As the gods began one world, and man another, So the snakecharmer begins a snaky sphere With moon-eye, mouth-pipe, He pipes. Pipes green. Pipes water. Pipes water green until green waters waver With reedy lengths and necks and undulatings. And as his notes twine green, the green river Shapes its images around his sons. He […]
Sculptor by Sylvia Plath
To his house the bodiless Come to barter endlessly Vision, wisdom, for bodies Palpable as his, and weighty. Hands moving move priestlier Than priest’s hands, invoke no vain Images of light and air But sure stations in bronze, wood, stone. Obdurate, in dense-grained wood, A bald angel blocks and shapes The flimsy light; arms folded […]
Rhyme by Sylvia Plath
I’ve got a stubborn goose whose gut’s Honeycombed with golden eggs, Yet won’t lay one. She, addled in her goose-wit, struts The barnyard like those taloned hags Who ogle men And crimp their wrinkles in a grin, Jangling their great money bags. While I eat grits She fattens on the finest grain. Now, as I […]
Resolve by Sylvia Plath
Day of mist: day of tarnish with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van the one-eared cat laps its gray paw and the coal fire burns outside, the little hedge leaves are become quite yellow a milk-film blurs the empty bottles on the windowsill no glory descends two water drops poise on the arched […]
Recantation by Sylvia Plath
‘Tea leaves I’ve given up, And that crooked line On the queen’s palm Is no more my concern. On my black pilgrimage This moon-pocked crystal ball Will break before it help; Rather than croak out What’s to come, My darling ravens are flown. ‘Forswear those freezing tricks of sight And all else I’ve taught Against […]
Pursuit by Sylvia Plath
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit. RACINE There is a panther stalks me down: One day I’ll have my death of him; His greed has set the woods aflame, He prowls more lordly than the sun. Most soft, most suavely glides that step, Advancing always at my back; From gaunt hemlock, rooks […]
Purdah by Sylvia Plath
Jade – Stone of the side, The antagonized Side of green Adam, I Smile, cross-legged, Enigmatical, Shifting my clarities. So valuable! How the sun polishes this shoulder! And should The moon, my Indefatigable cousin Rise, with her cancerous pallors, Dragging trees – Little bushy polyps, Little nets, My visibilities hide. I gleam like a mirror. […]
Prospect by Sylvia Plath
Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore two black rooks hunch and darkly glare, watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic […]
Private Ground by Sylvia Plath
First frost, and I walk among the rose-fruit, the marble toes Of the Greek beauties you brought Off Europe’s relic heap To sweeten your neck of the New York woods. Soon each white lady will be boarded up Against the crackling climate. All morning, with smoking breath, the handyman Has been draining the goldfish ponds. […]
Point Shirley by Sylvia Plath
From Water-Tower Hill to the brick prison The shingle booms, bickering under The sea’s collapse. Snowcakes break and welter. This year The gritted wave leaps The seawall and drops onto a bier Of quahog chips, Leaving a salty mash of ice to whiten In my grandmother’s sand yard. She is dead, Whose laundry snapped and […]
Poems, Potatoes by Sylvia Plath
The word, defining, muzzles; the drawn line Ousts mistier peers and thrives, murderous, In establishments which imagined lines Can only haunt. Sturdy as potatoes, Stones, without conscience, word and line endure, Given an inch. Not that they’re gross (although Afterthought often would have them alter To delicacy, to poise) but that they Shortchange me continuously: […]
Pheasant by Sylvia Plath
You said you would kill it this morning. Do not kill it. It startles me still, The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing Through the uncut grass on the elm’s hill. It is something to own a pheasant, Or just to be visited at all. I am not mystical: it isn’t As if I […]
Perseus by Sylvia Plath
The Triumph of Wit Over Suffering Head alone shows you in the prodigious act Of digesting what centuries alone digest: The mammoth, lumbering statuary of sorrow, Indissoluble enough to riddle the guts Of a whale with holes and holes, and bleed him white Into salt seas. Hercules had a simple time, Rinsing those stables: a […]
Parliament Hill Fields by Sylvia Plath
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack. Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue, Settling and stirring like blown paper […]
Paralytic by Sylvia Plath
It happens. Will it go on? — My mind a rock, No fingers to grip, no tongue, My god the iron lung That loves me, pumps My two Dust bags in and out, Will not Let me relapse While the day outside glides by like ticker tape. The night brings violets, Tapestries of eyes, Lights, […]
Spinster by Sylvia Plath
Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck By the bird’s irregular babel And the leaves’ litter. By this tumult afflicted, she Observed her lover’s gestures unbalance the air, His gait stray uneven Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower; She judged […]
Spider by Sylvia Plath
Anansi, black busybody of the folktales, You scuttle out on impulse Blunt in self-interest As a sledge hammer, as a man’s bunched fist, Yet of devils the cleverest To get your carousals told: You spun the cosmic web: you squint from center field. Last summer I came upon your Spanish cousin, Notable robber baron, Behind […]
Sow by Sylvia Plath
God knows how our neighbor managed to breed His great sow: Whatever his shrewd secret, he kept it hid In the same way He kept the sow-impounded from public stare, Prize ribbon and pig show. But one dusk our questions commended us to a tour Through his lantern-lit Maze of barns to the lintel of […]
Southern Sunrise by Sylvia Plath
Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds, On arrowy stems, Pineapple-barked, A green crescent of palms Sends up its forked Firework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawn Inch by bright inch Gilds all our Avenue, And […]
Snakecharmer by Sylvia Plath
As the gods began one world, and man another, So the snakecharmer begins a snaky sphere With moon-eye, mouth-pipe, He pipes. Pipes green. Pipes water. Pipes water green until green waters waver With reedy lengths and necks and undulatings. And as his notes twine green, the green river Shapes its images around his sons. He […]
Sculptor by Sylvia Plath
To his house the bodiless Come to barter endlessly Vision, wisdom, for bodies Palpable as his, and weighty. Hands moving move priestlier Than priest’s hands, invoke no vain Images of light and air But sure stations in bronze, wood, stone. Obdurate, in dense-grained wood, A bald angel blocks and shapes The flimsy light; arms folded […]
Rhyme by Sylvia Plath
I’ve got a stubborn goose whose gut’s Honeycombed with golden eggs, Yet won’t lay one. She, addled in her goose-wit, struts The barnyard like those taloned hags Who ogle men And crimp their wrinkles in a grin, Jangling their great money bags. While I eat grits She fattens on the finest grain. Now, as I […]
Resolve by Sylvia Plath
Day of mist: day of tarnish with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van the one-eared cat laps its gray paw and the coal fire burns outside, the little hedge leaves are become quite yellow a milk-film blurs the empty bottles on the windowsill no glory descends two water drops poise on the arched […]
Recantation by Sylvia Plath
‘Tea leaves I’ve given up, And that crooked line On the queen’s palm Is no more my concern. On my black pilgrimage This moon-pocked crystal ball Will break before it help; Rather than croak out What’s to come, My darling ravens are flown. ‘Forswear those freezing tricks of sight And all else I’ve taught Against […]
Purdah by Sylvia Plath
Jade – Stone of the side, The antagonized Side of green Adam, I Smile, cross-legged, Enigmatical, Shifting my clarities. So valuable! How the sun polishes this shoulder! And should The moon, my Indefatigable cousin Rise, with her cancerous pallors, Dragging trees – Little bushy polyps, Little nets, My visibilities hide. I gleam like a mirror. […]
Prospect by Sylvia Plath
Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore two black rooks hunch and darkly glare, watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic […]
Private Ground by Sylvia Plath
First frost, and I walk among the rose-fruit, the marble toes Of the Greek beauties you brought Off Europe’s relic heap To sweeten your neck of the New York woods. Soon each white lady will be boarded up Against the crackling climate. All morning, with smoking breath, the handyman Has been draining the goldfish ponds. […]
Point Shirley by Sylvia Plath
From Water-Tower Hill to the brick prison The shingle booms, bickering under The sea’s collapse. Snowcakes break and welter. This year The gritted wave leaps The seawall and drops onto a bier Of quahog chips, Leaving a salty mash of ice to whiten In my grandmother’s sand yard. She is dead, Whose laundry snapped and […]
Poems, Potatoes by Sylvia Plath
The word, defining, muzzles; the drawn line Ousts mistier peers and thrives, murderous, In establishments which imagined lines Can only haunt. Sturdy as potatoes, Stones, without conscience, word and line endure, Given an inch. Not that they’re gross (although Afterthought often would have them alter To delicacy, to poise) but that they Shortchange me continuously: […]
Pheasant by Sylvia Plath
You said you would kill it this morning. Do not kill it. It startles me still, The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing Through the uncut grass on the elm’s hill. It is something to own a pheasant, Or just to be visited at all. I am not mystical: it isn’t As if I […]
Perseus by Sylvia Plath
The Triumph of Wit Over Suffering Head alone shows you in the prodigious act Of digesting what centuries alone digest: The mammoth, lumbering statuary of sorrow, Indissoluble enough to riddle the guts Of a whale with holes and holes, and bleed him white Into salt seas. Hercules had a simple time, Rinsing those stables: a […]
Parliament Hill Fields by Sylvia Plath
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack. Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue, Settling and stirring like blown paper […]
Paralytic by Sylvia Plath
It happens. Will it go on? — My mind a rock, No fingers to grip, no tongue, My god the iron lung That loves me, pumps My two Dust bags in and out, Will not Let me relapse While the day outside glides by like ticker tape. The night brings violets, Tapestries of eyes, Lights, […]