I don’t read a ton of poetry, so I don’t talk much about it on my blog. But, seeing as how it’s National Poetry Month, I thought I would share one of my favorite poems, by one of my favorite writers: Sylvia Plath. Her work really speaks to me, and I hope it speaks to you as well.
There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself—
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.
A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.
This red wall winces continually:
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two grey, papery bags—
This is what I am made of, this, and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pietas.
On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality among these!
Cold blanks approach us:
They move in a hurry.
The line “Is there no way out of the mind?” is one of my favorite sentences in the history of sentences. While dark, I find it (and Plath’s work in general) relatable in many ways.
Do you have a favorite poem or poet?