Sylvia Plath Poetry is a book filled with the content of Sylvia Plath's poems.
Sylvia Plath was an American poet, novelist, and short story writer.
Plath's work often was singled out for the intense coupling of its violent or disturbed imagery and...
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Once I was ordinary: Sat by my father's bean tree Eating the fingers of wisdom. The birds made milk. When it thundered I hid under a flat stone.
The mother of mouths didn't love me. The old man shrank to a doll. O I am too big to go backward: Birdmilk is feathers, The bean leaves are dumb as hands.
This month is fit for little. The dead ripen in the grapeleaves. A red tongue is among us. Mother, keep out of my barnyard, I am becoming another.
Dog-head, devourer: Feed me the berries of dark. The lids won't shut. Time Unwinds from the great umbilicus of the sun Its endless glitter.
I must swallow it all.
Lady, who are these others in the moon's vat --- Sleepdrunk, their limbs at odds? In this light the blood is black. Tell me my name.
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