April 2011
19 posts
Metaphors
I’m a riddle in nine syllables,An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.
Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.
I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there’s no getting off.
— Sylvia Plath
“How frail the human heart must be- a mirrored pool of thought.”
—-Sylvia Plath (via wristsfullofanarchy)
poem-a-day: Morning Song, Sylvia Plath →
poetryinyourlife.tumblr.com
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I’m no more your…
“I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath.”
—Sylvia Plath (via sound5good)
