Detz

Wiki Poetry Project By: Brittany Detz


 * Sylvia Plath **

**1932-1963** Sylvia Plath was born in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts to middle class parents. She published her first poem when she was eight years old. She was very intelligent and was a perfectionist. On the surface, she was the model daughter, popular in school and achieved straight A's. When she began attending Smith College in 1950 on a scholarship, she already had an impressive list of publications. During her time at Smith College she wrote over four hundred poems. Like many of the authors we have discussed in class, Sylvia appeared perfect on the outside but was struggling with many things internally. During the summer following her junior year at Smith College, Sylvia nearly killed herself overdosing on sleeping pills. After recovery, including electroshock and psychotherapy, Sylvia continued her academic and literary success. She graduated from Smith in 1955 with summa cum laude and received the Fulbright scholarship to study at Cambridge, England. In 1956 she married Ted Hughes, an english poet. At age 28, her first book was published in England. She and Ted settled in an English country village in Devon, but less than two years after the birth of their first child she and Ted separated. The winter of 1962-1963 proved very tough for Sylvia. It was the coldest winter in centuries, and she found herself with two children, sick with the flu and low on money. The hardness of her life forced her to turn to poetry to express her feelings. She wrote in the wee hours of the morning before the children woke up and sometimes wrote one poem a day. On February 11th, 1963 Sylvia killed herself at the young age of 30. Plath was the first poet to win a Pulitzer Prize after death.  Morning Song

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 mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.

Analysis of Morning Song:
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The poem, Morning Song, is literally talking about the birth of a newborn and all of the feelings and emotions that go along with having a child. It is a poem that all mother's could read and relate to. "The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry took its place among the elements." Every mother will always remember the birth of their baby, but more importantly, the first time they heard their baby cry. While analyzing this poem, I see the poem as happy and upbeat. The title alone leads me to believe she wrote this poem to be happy. Morning Song makes me think that every morning when Plath heard her baby cry, it was like a song to her, something she was happy to hear. People may argue this poem is depressing because of certain lines but I think it is all in how you read into it. When I first read it there were two lines that made me think she was depressed when she wrote this. "Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue." The last two words in this line confused me a little. When I think of statues, I think of something boring and not attractive and my first thought was that Plath felt some resentment toward the child but after reading into it and thinking about it, I can see it as a positive. People admire and "oohh" and "ahh" at statues and pay close attention to them and I think this is the meaning Plath was getting at. "I'm no more your mother" is another line that stuck out to me the first time I read it. At first it seemed negative and like Plath was putting distance between her and the baby. After thinking about it, I think she just means that she feels a deeper connection than just her mother and she feels a sense of amazement that she helped to create the beautiful baby. The last two stanzas of the poem are my favorite. She talks about how she springs out of bed in the morning in her Victorian nightgown, cow-heavy, meaning she is going to breast feed her baby. The Victorian nightgown tells me she is exhausted and weary, yet happy about hearing her "morning song." The last stanza is beautiful and really describes her baby's cry in detail. Each morning she hears her baby cry is a new day and a new beginning. I personally really enjoyed reading this poem. I thought it was beautiful and well-written and relatively easy to read and analyze. Motherhood is a very important part of life and I enjoyed reading her feelings and emotions on it.


 * [[image:http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:bCsnf0Ia20XTCM:http://patrishka.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/lovely-sylvia_plath.jpg width="148" height="193" align="center" caption="See full size image"]] ||
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 * Lady Lazarus **

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it-

A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot

A paperweight, My featureless, fine Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?---

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me

And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments. The Peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot -- The big strip tease. Gentleman, ladies

These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident.

The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut

As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout:

'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart--- It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash--- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there

A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

Plath reading Lady Lazarus: []

Analysis of Lady Lazarus:

In Lady Lazarus, Plath is literally talking about her suicide attempts and the near death experiences that came along with them. "And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die." This line of the poem speaks volumes to me. First of all, it tells me she wrote this poem at age 30. That is how old she was when she finally succeeded in taking her own life. This gives me a time frame and I can definitely see why this poem is so dark and depressing. She most likely wrote this while going through the harsh winter of 1962-1963. She also compares herself to a cat, saying she has nine times to die. This tells me that even though she survived another suicide attempt, she isn't done trying to take her own life. I think this poem really descirbes what Plath was feeling inside. She felt alone and like nobody in the world cared about her. She speaks of an accidentle near-death experience at age ten, followed by her two suicide attempts. "Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well." Art takes practice, time and perfection. With this line I think she was referring to her suicide attempts as an act that she is trying to perfect. When she finally does perfect it, she will have achieved her goal of killing herself. I think the title of this poem is very interesting. Lazarus is a biblical figure who was raised from the dead by Jesus. By putting Lady in front of Lazarus for the title, I think Plath was referring to herself. With four known near-death experiences, surely Jesus had to have been watching over her. I think the title is interesting, but fitting for what the poem stands for. There are many different themes for this poem. The main theme being death, but another small theme involving the Nazi's and the holocaust. I think she refers to herself as a Nazi survivor since she managed to escape death so many times. I think this is a background theme, but I don't think it is the major theme that ties into what the poem stands for. "What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see." I think this line ties into what I mentioned above in regards to dying being an art. This line shows that Plath knew she was the center of talk and gossip. She refers to the crowd buying peanuts and shoving to get a good spot to see what she is going to do next. I think it would be hard to live like that. Dying isn't some kind of show that people buy tickets to and watch suspensfully as they munch on peanuts. I understood this poem and it definitely gave me an inside look into the emotions Plath was feeling. I don't really like dark and depressing poems so it wasn't my favorite to read. I don't ever think suicide is the answer and I definitely don't think death is some kind of show or art you should perfect.



DADDY

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene

An engine, an engine, Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of //you//, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You

Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through.

Sylvia Plath reads Daddy: []

Analysis of Daddy:
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In Sylvia Plath's, Daddy, she talks about the issues she and her father have had throughout her life. "Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time." This line shows how she felt about her father. Her father died when she was eight years old. This poem deals with death and how Sylvia coped with death in her life. On observation, from the little I have learned about Plath, I think she had a fascination and obsession with death. Whether it was talking about her various suicide attempts or her father's death, it seems that Plath was very intrigued by the thought of dying. I know the poem is titled Daddy and it is mainly about Plath's relationship with her father and how she felt after his death but I also think she is referring to her husband subtly and how horrible their relationship was. Plath uses many metaphors in this poem. In the first stanza, "you do not do, you do not do any more, black shoe in which I have lived like a foot for thirty years, poor and white, barely daring to breathe or Achoo." I think she uses the adjective black to refer to death. I think she is referring to the shoe as her father in the first stanza. Shoes are usually comfortable, warm and protecting but they can also be too tight and smothering. The shoe then turns into a boot later on in the poem. The poem Daddy is very dark and powerful. At times Plath speaks in a strong voice and at other times the voice seems childlike and scared. I think this is an interesting point when it comes to the last line of the poem. "Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through." By using daddy, daddy, she seems like a small child who is fearful. She then follows it up with being strong and calling him a bastard and saying she's had enough and she is finally through. I thought this was very interesting and something I picked up on the first time I read through the poem. This definitely isn't my favorite poem I have read by Plath. It has meaning and it is powerful but I didn't like it very much. I think this poem is more ambiguous and harder to analyze the meaning. Blackberrying **
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Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries, Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a seaSomewhere at the end of it, heaving. BlackberriesBig as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyesEbon in the hedges, fatWith blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides. Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks—Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.I do not think the sea will appear at all.The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven. One more hook, and the berries and bushes end. The only thing to come now is the sea.From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me, gapping its phantom laundry in my face.These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me To the hills’ northern face, and the face is orange rock That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths Beating and beating at an intractable metal.



Analysis of Blackberrying:

In the poem Blackberrying, the speaker is literally talking about her journey and experience of picking blackberries. After reading the poem several times, I had a hard time figuring out the mood of the poem. It is not upbeat and happy like Morning Song, but it is also not dark and depressing like Lady Lazarus. I think this poem was written by Plath to describe the loneliness of her life. I think the first line of the poem easily describes how alone Plath feels. "Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries." I think this relates to her life in that nobody really cares about her and she constantly feels alone. By using the word nothing twice, Plath emphasizes that she has nothing to live for in life and nobody to support her. "With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers. I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me." This line is unusual because it shows that Plath has formed some type of bond with the blackberries. They have formed some type of "sisterhood" and the blackberries love her. This tells me that Plath was looking for love and affection and couldn't seem to find it. In the second stanza, Plath introduces more nature. "Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks- Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky. Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting. I do not think the sea will appear at all." Choughs are a small, chattering bird of the crow family. I find it interesting that Plath described them as black, because black is typically used as a sad, depressing color. Also, with the choughs being black, it correlates with the blackberries. She describes the choughs flying in the sky and their voices being the only ones she hears. She then describes being surrounded by blackberry trees and that she doesn't think she will ever see the sea. "From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me, slapping its phantom laundry in my face. I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me to the hill's northern face, and the face is orange rock that looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space." The last stanza tells me that Plath did indeed come across the sea. She could have been sad about this, because she really enjoyed getting lost in the world of berry picking because she felt a sense of companionship, but she also could have been happy. Being out at sea also allows one to get lost in another world. Again, she emphasizes nothing by saying it twice. I think she is referring to the fact that the sea is nothing but a great space and all one sees is water for miles and miles. Overall, I enjoyed this poem. I had to read it several times in order to really understand the meaning and pick up on all of the details. Plath is a great writer and she really does a great job of painting the scenery and allowing her readers to be able to visualize and feel like they are right there with her.



Child

**Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.**  **I want to fill it with color and ducks,** Little** Pool in which images Should be grand and classical** Wringing of hands, this dark Ceiling without a star.**
 * The zoo of the new**
 * Whose name you meditate--**
 * April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
 * Stalk without wrinkle,
 * Not this troublous

<span style="color: #000080; font-family: 'Arial Black',Gadget,sans-serif;">Child analysis:

Literally, Child is about Sylvia Plath's unconditional love for her baby. It's words are written positively until the end but I think there is a depressing undertone. When I read into the poem, I read that Plath didn't think of herself good enough to raise her baby. She wanted to give her baby everything she could in life, but she didn't feel qualified. Plath had an obsession with death and lived life very differently. She didn't enjoy life and was depressed most of the time, her thoughts always veering to suicide. "Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing." The first line in the poem says that the only beautiful thing in Plath's life was her child. For some, the love of a child is enough, yet others need more. "I want to fill it with color and ducks, the zoo of the new." This is the line that showed me that Plath wanted to give her baby the best life possible. She wanted to fill her baby's life with color, toys, animals and everything else a child is blessed with during its childhood. Plath wanted to be able to give her baby new experiences each and every day. The end is where the darkness of the poem really comes out. "Not this troublous wringing of hands, this dark ceiling without a star." Plath speaks of her life like a ceiling without a star. There is no light in her life and she feels lonely and like she is surrounded by darkness. It is a very short poem and it starts on a happy note, talking about her baby and wanting to give it the best life possible, but then it ends on a dark and depressing note. I think Plath had a lot of emotions going through her mind when she wrote this. Usually, her poetry was one mood or the other but this poem was a mixture, which tells me she was struggling with her emotions when she wrote this. On one hand, she was blessed and happy with her baby, but then she started thinking about her life and not being able to give the baby the life it deserved and she got sad and depressed in an instant. After reading this poem, I can see why Plath had an illness. I enjoyed reading this poem but it was different for me to see the emotional change that happened from beginning to end, especially because it was such a short poem. Plath was definitely an emotional woman and after reading all her different poems I can see why she was such a good writer. She had so many emotions and didn't know where to go with them all so she just wrote them down and they turned into poetry.


 * The following are links to an interview with Sylvia Plath that I found on youtube. I enjoyed listening to it and learned many new, different things you don't learn about someone while reading their writings. **

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**I also came across a documentary on youtube about Sylvia Plath that was very helpful. It is a bit lengthy but I enjoyed learning more about Plath's life.**

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Works Cited

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',Times; font-size: 16px; line-height: 32px;"> Baym, Nina. "Sylvia Plath." //The Norton Anthology of American Literature//. 7th ed. Vol. 2. New York: W.W. Norton, 2008. 1475-483. Print.Beckmann, Anja. "Sylvia Plath Autobiography." 1996. Web. 25 Mar. 2010. <http://www.sylviaplath.de/>.Plath, Sylvia. "Sylvia Plath Interview- Part 1." //Youtube.com//. 9 Nov. 2008. Web. 28 Mar. 2010.Plath, Sylvia. "Sylvia Plath Interview- Part 2." //Youtube.com//. 9 Nov. 2008. Web. 28 Mar. 2010.Plath, Sylvia. "Sylvia Plath Reads "Daddy"" //Youtube.com//. 26 Dec. 2006. Web. 25 Mar. 2010.Plath, Sylvia. "Sylvia Plath Reads Lady Lazarus." //Youtube.com//. 21 Oct. 2006. Web. 25 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 1 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 4 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 2 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 3 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 3 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 3 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 4 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 3 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 5 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 3 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010."Sylvia Plath Part 6 of 6." //Youtube.com//. 3 May 2009. Web. 28 Mar. 2010.