Even amongst fierce flames/ The golden lotus can be planted.
The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.
They might ignore me immediately. In my moon suit and funeral veil. I am no source of honeySo why should they turn on me?Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.
Sylvia Plath and I met a long time ago. A really long time ago. Was it a summer day? No! It was a wintry November morning!
I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
Over your body the clouds goHigh, high and icilyAnd a little flat, as if theyFloated on a glass that was invisible.Unlike swans, Having no reflections;Unlike you, With no strings attached.All cool, al...
Not easy to state the change you made.If I'm alive now, I was dead,Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.
All night your moth-breathFlickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen.A far sea moves in my ear.
If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.
I'm never going to get married.You're crazy. Buddy brightened. You'll change your mind.No. My mind's made up.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to t...
I don't know how long I kept at it...I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still.It didn't seem to be summer any more
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