Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963 / Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts)
Poems by Sylvia Plath : 3 / 120
A Life
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
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Sylvia Plath
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Beauty's pain gives her name, her light in flame, her death is fame.
She is an insane genius!
Great imagery. I lover the last stanza - especially the line 'The future is a grey seagull'. Reminds me of a seagul I saw in Brighton on one dull rainy day.
this poem is great but I think it needs more of a big idea and a theme