so many paths
never saved plath
a multi faceted mind
that fused and
blew her very top
a thousand images
her acute mind
picked up
and worked
into her poem failed
to save her from
inadequacy
one by one
they opened
like internet sites
to reveal only
a double locked prison
damp and cold
to dispirit her of life
every poem
to soothe and
tame a bruised soul
returned again
and again to haunt
the protagonist
prison upon prison
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice, John, it's an interesting and sobering paradox that art, as healing as it can be, is not able to deliver some artists.