Sylvia plath love poems

Nobody sees us, Stops us, betrays us; The small grains make room. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks. And you doze on, nose to the wall. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

We own no wilderness rich and deep enough For stronghold against their stiff Battalions. The light falls without letup, blindingly. They almost purr.

Sylvia plath best love poems

I do not expect a miracle Or an accident To set the sight on fire In my eye, nor seek Any more in the desultory weather some design, But let spotted leaves fall as they fall, Without ceremony, or portent. The trees wither in the street. With luck, Trekking stubborn through this season Of fatigue, I shall Patch together a content Of sorts.

And I am a river of milk. And I, a shell, echoing on this white beach Face the voices that overwhelm, the terrible element. Noonday acts queerly On the mind's eye erecting a line Of poplars in the middle distance, the only Object beside the mad, straight road One can remember men and houses by. I am a wound walking out of hospital. The first thing I was was sheer air And the locked drops rising in dew Limpid as spirits.

What a trash To annihilate each decade.

Sylvia plath short poems

Stasis in darkness. A smile fell in the grass. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. I wasn't ready. These bodies mounded around me now, these polar sleepers-- What blue, moony ray ices their dreams?

Mad Girl's Love Song. I have no preconceptions. I have done it again. They sit so nicely in the pickling fluid! Echoes traveling Off from the center like horses. Friends, friends. The sun puts its cinder out.