Epitaph for Sylvia

A short poem for Sylvia Plath

I recently had a conversation with a poet friend from my teens. She brought up Sylvia Plath, a favorite poet of ours.

Most of my readers will remember the story of Sylvia Plath--- her battle with depression, her many attempts to end herself, and her eventual success on that early cold February morning in her kitchen in 1963.

Sylvia has been on my mind since that conversation, as I revisited her profound and unique word art.

I remember writing a tribute to her when I was a senior in highschool. I wish I could find that copy, but time and circumstance has thwarted my efforts.

I just penned a short piece just to bug her wherever she may be. She would probably snort in girlish derision at my yeoman's attempt at evolving her somewhat brutal confessional style.

 

 

epitaph for sylvia

 blame...

talk not of w***e's wit, accomplices make

for arduous talon grasping for naught.

 

 labels...

write not obituary in prose longing for life

'twas intended to but entertain

 

 infidelity...

never did I, always did you, my love.

in the end, nothing else mattered.

 

 gas...

trite goodbyes never smelled so sweet

I gave you my life, my loves... my treat!

 

 

This poem may seem harsh and cruel, but you have to understand Sylvia to know that her confessional style requires ugliness to cast light on the beauty of one's soul.

 

© 07/2013 Leo Elderkin

 

 

 

 

I will now leave you with one of my all time favorite Sylvia Plath poems. The text is beautiful at first blush--- but there is an undercurrent of sadness and allusion....

 

Winter Trees

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.

On their blotter of fog the trees

seem a botanical drawing.

Memories growing, ring on ring,

a series of weddings.

 

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,

truer than women,

they seed so effortlessly!

Tasting the winds, they are footless.

waist-deep in history.

 

Full of wings, otherworldliness.

In this, they are Ledas.

O mother of leaves and sweetness

who are these pietas?

The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.

 

(Sylvia Plath)

 

 

 

Reviews

[shallimarRose]

Leo Your poem in tribute is excellent.. Deeply felt. You have convinced be to Read some of her work.. I have heard of her but never really read much from her.. thank you for sharing her poem also..
"who are these pietas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing" xo Rose

[Leo Elderkin]

You are very kind and generous in praise of my piece here, Barbara. Before you read Ms. Plath, you should read her biography. It is a fascinating read and you will see why she took her own life. She felt life around herself deeply, she loved deeply--- both prerequisites for writers.

You are welcome, friend!

[shallimarRose]

I have deep dark shadows and secrets and suffer depression too... I think many poets do.. I will look for her autobiography. thank you Leo.. xo

[rhythm&blues]

I'm familiar with the poet but not her writings, although my aunt is a huge fan, I will have to share this one with her, nicely penned.

[Leo Elderkin]

Thank-you for visiting and the nice comment, Rhytm&Blues. Thanks for sharing.

[Demme]

She was an amazing woman and I very much enjoyed reading your tribute and her own poetry here.
Thanks so much for sharing!

[Leo Elderkin]

Thank-you very much for the nice review, Doris, I appreciate it!

[Demme]

My pleasure Leo :-)