The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
from Lady Lazarus
Even forty nine years after her death, we still are fascinated by Sylvia Plath. Certainly her works were critically acclaimed. She was a poet ahead of her time.
But, I think, too, we're drawn to the tragedy that was her life and ultimately her death.
In her poems and stories we see the poetic genius. In her journals we find the woman beind the words. In beautiful descriptions we see the longing to be herself in a society that shunned nonconformity. I can't help but think she would've liked the changes the 60's brought.
As a writer, I admire her courage to write how she wanted, despite the criticisms and set backs. She didn't give up herself, even though the struggle brought pain that pushed her to end her life.
As writers we want to be heard, to make money, to publish. But no matter what others do or say, in the end, we have to stay true to who we are as a writer and the words that need to be said.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
from Morning Song
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot--
The big strip tease.
from Lady Lazarus
Even forty nine years after her death, we still are fascinated by Sylvia Plath. Certainly her works were critically acclaimed. She was a poet ahead of her time.
But, I think, too, we're drawn to the tragedy that was her life and ultimately her death.
In her poems and stories we see the poetic genius. In her journals we find the woman beind the words. In beautiful descriptions we see the longing to be herself in a society that shunned nonconformity. I can't help but think she would've liked the changes the 60's brought.
As a writer, I admire her courage to write how she wanted, despite the criticisms and set backs. She didn't give up herself, even though the struggle brought pain that pushed her to end her life.
As writers we want to be heard, to make money, to publish. But no matter what others do or say, in the end, we have to stay true to who we are as a writer and the words that need to be said.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
from Morning Song
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