Tulips (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am ...
The Triumph of Wit Over Suffering Head alone shows you in the prodigious act Of digesting what centuries alone digest: ...
Viciousness in the kitchen! The potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, The fluorescent light wincing on and off like ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
How far is it? How far is it now? The gigantic gorilla interior Of the wheels move, they appall me ...
Here are two pupils whose moons of black transform to cripples all who look: each lovely lady who peers inside ...
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries, Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly, A blackberry ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is ...
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round ...
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers---- The rector, the midwife, the sexton, ...
I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now: This new absolutely white person and the ...
for Ruth Fainlight I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; It is what ...
It is no night to drown in: A full moon, river lapsing Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, The blue water-mists dropping ...
The air is a mill of hooks -- Questions without answer, Glittering and drunk as flies Whose kiss stings unbearably ...
You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot ...
Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt Or what disfigured and unsightly Cousin did you so unwisely keep Unasked to my christening, ...
I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin ...
No use whistling for Lyonnesse! Sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is. Take a look at the white, high berg on his ...
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted ...
The photographic chamber of the eye records bare painted walls, while an electric light lays the chromium nerves of plumbing ...
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