I Am Not Sylvia Plath Poem by Shirley Harrison

I am not Sylvia Plath
I will not lay me down to die
for bad love
her work, I've read enough to know
she was manipulated by narcissism
Jealousy and rage
cleverly being told all along
that in fact it was her who possessed all these wicked ailments...
truth is
she was a goddess with a pen
she knew just the right words to describe her pictures, bringing them alive from the very core of her soul, a soul bruised and battered by mental torture
a woman so decided on love
she felt she had to go

I am not Sylvia Plath
but I am a poetess who learnt from her

so
I'll take her legacy and sprinkle it with fresh petals of pink wild roses

because...

that's what she will always be to me...

a beautiful vase of wild roses.