Sylvia Plath – Robin’s Nest

Love her or hate her you have to recognise Sylvia Plath’s poetry

Sylvia Plath, the tortured poet of the mid 20th century, has been dead for almost twice as long as she lived yet, almost 60 years after her death, the very mention of her name can start a literary war. Plath is is as close to Marmite woman as you can get. There are very fewContinue reading “Love her or hate her you have to recognise Sylvia Plath’s poetry”

My Mother

by Frieda Hughes They are killing her again. She said she did it One year in every ten, But they do it annually or weekly, Some even do it daily. Carrying her death around in their heads And practising it. She saves them The trouble of their own; They can die through her Without everContinue reading “My Mother”

You’re

by Sylvia Plath Clownlike, happiest on your hands, Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled, Gilled like a fish. A common-sense Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode. Wrapped up in yourself like a spool, Trawling your dark as owls do. Mute as a turnip from the Fourth Of July to All Fools’ Day,O high-riser, my little loaf. Vague as fog and looked for likeContinue reading “You’re”