Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?
You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns
And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
If I could bleed, or sleep! -
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.
But colorless. Colorless.
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Fantastic. Simply fantastic. The last line is breathtaking. One of my favourite pieces by Sylvia.
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From guest Michael (contact)
I think it's important to read Plath's poetry in the context of her life to be quite honest. It is, undoubtedly, personal poetry. -
From guest Appleshampoo (contact)
Please stop trying to read Plath's work as an extended version of her life's events! Jacqueline Rose hits the nail on the head when she calls for a return to the work itself instead of the tenuous biography that some people are trying to attach to it. This 'cult of Plath' only does her a diservice. Has anyone on this website considered the possiblity of narrative voice? -
opium poppie is wat is used to make heroin, mayb tht was her drug of choice, an this poem was about her withdrawal symptoms from it
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Glass capsule....I love that bit. She is feeling so isolated...touching pain even "I put my hands to flames, nothing burns" or when she says she cannot touch them, she is clearly beyond feeling anymore .... she has nothing left. My what beauty lies in such saddness, such despair...it is exhausting and so very "colorless". Brilliant piece!!!!
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There is so much amazing metaphor in this piece. Not only metaphor to highten the description but a metaphor of sylvia plath's life, the innerworkings of her mind. This piece seems like an escape from the tortures of life, her depression, and her marital problems with Ted Hughes. It seems like she wants her pains to either go away, or increase to the point that it dulls everything else. Its almost like she feels too much and wants the numbness that drugs, or love or whatever other escape has to offer. Obviously suicide has been on her mind, because of her final end. (and her attempted suicide with sleeping pills. both that and the oven suicide would be away to sleep away into death. sleep away pain and sleep away life. a brilliant piece.
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Interesting piece, I am not a Plath fan, but I am trying to become more familiar with her work. I didn't like this especially, although it was well put together. When she said "marry" I wonder if she was mixing a little Old English or she meant it litterally.
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It's as if she is staring at a flame, a fireplace with a fire going or something of that accord and that she's weaving herself within it, on it, a part of it etc.,
There's physical pain in this more so than I feel emotional piece - well I feel the word 'pain' describes this piece quite fairly and well.
A nice piece by Plath.
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My favourite line is the one that goes "If my mouth could marry a hurt like that". That suggests to me that she is expressing her inability to talk about the pain she feels - the marriage seems a great way of putting it - an interesting image.
Its a good poem but I must say I prefer October. -
'Little hell flames,' is a beautiful, clever descriptions. She makes a reference to burning as well - as if she needs to burn away her filth or she is a sinner and condemned to fire
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Reminds me of The Wizard of Oz...The poppies...Of
course...Not as...Pleasnt ly put...I like the seventh stanza...
!~YS4e~!
Scarlett
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