Leaving Early (Sylvia Plath Poems)
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers. When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember, Me, sitting here bored ...
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers. When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember, Me, sitting here bored ...
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus ...
A Poem for Three Voices Setting: A Maternity Ward and round about FIRST VOICE: I am slow as the world. ...
This is winter, this is night, small love -- A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled ...
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 ...
Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt Or what disfigured and unsightly Cousin did you so unwisely keep Unasked to my christening, ...
It happens. Will it go on? ---- My mind a rock, No fingers to grip, no tongue, My god the ...
Old goatherds swear how all night long they hear The warning whirr and burring of the bird Who wakes with ...
Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore ...
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
I shall never get you put together entirely, Pieced, glued, and properly jointed. Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles Proceed from ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories