A pure poet

 Back to front, yet,read the right way it’s about a horse, memories, and the dull ache of being domesticated and dying slowly in depression from loneliness. Read backwards this is a forewarning, quasi ‘suicide note’ giving away hints to how she would prefer ... the poem ‘Ariel’ transforms from a description of horse into a self fulfilled prophesy becoming self sacrificial she gains her eternal soul... like Ariel... turned to... foam. She loses her life  for love...literally. 

her self, that she struggled with for so long, now,  completely free...at last. That woman... made the boldest statement and with her own blood.  I both hate her and love her at the same time. What a paradox. How selfishly cruel and at the same time. so lovingly kind. A pure poet. 

Sylvia— lady of the forest,

 your poem read back to you

backwards

dead:

—————————————————

I, yes, the cauldron of mourning

into the red

suicidal

at one with the drive 

the draw that flies

am the arrow,

and I

melts into the wall.

the child’s cry

form to wait ( foam to wheat )

a glitter of seas

and now I

dead hands,

dead stringencies

Godiva— I unpeel

white

flakes from my heels.

thighs, hair;

hauls me through air—

something else

shadows.

black sweet blood mouthfuls,

cooks (hooks)

berries cast dark

nigger-rye ( nigger-eye )

of the neck I cannot catch

the brown arc

splits and passes,

sister to

pivot of heels and knees!

— the furrow

How one we grow

God’s loneliness ( lioness )

pour of tor ( torture )

and distances

then the substance blue

stasis in darkness.

RIP Dear Sylvia Plath you wretched beautiful worthy soul.

E-mail me when people leave their comments –

You need to be a member of w.a.s.t.e. central to add comments!

Join w.a.s.t.e. central

Blog Topics by Tags

Monthly Archives