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Selected Poems of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath
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Sylvia Plath

Selected Poems of Sylvia Plath

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  • Natasha Klimchukhar citeretfor 4 år siden
    The snow has no voice.
  • Natasha Klimchukhar citeretfor 4 år siden
    I made a model of you,
    A man in black with a Meinkampf look
    And a love of the rack and the screw.
    And I said I do, I do.
  • Natasha Klimchukhar citeretfor 4 år siden
    Every woman adores a Fascist,
    The boot in the face, the brute
    Brute heart of a brute like you.
  • Natasha Klimchukhar citeretfor 4 år siden
    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.
    The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
    A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
    Stars open among the lilies.
    Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
    This is the silence of astounded souls.
  • Natasha Klimchukhar citeretfor 4 år siden
    am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
    Whatever I see I swallow immediately
    Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
    I am not cruel, only truthful –
    The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
    Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
    It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
    I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
    Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
    Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
    Searching my reaches for what she really is.
    Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
    I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
    She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
    I am important to her. She comes and goes.
    Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
    In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
    Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
  • Ellaine Manlapazhar citeretfor 5 år siden
    Little poppies, little hell flames,

    Do you do no harm?

    You flicker. I cannot touch you.

    I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.

    And it exhausts me to watch you

    Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
  • Ellaine Manlapazhar citeretfor 5 år siden
    In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman

    Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
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