Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.
God's lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! —-The furrow
Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,
Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks —-
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else
Hauls me through air —-
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.
White
Godiva, I unpeel —-
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child's cry
Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.
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I'm currently studying this poem for a presentation in my English class, and it really is amazing how many mythological references she managed to cram into one poem. There are references here to the Little Mermaid (the myth, not the Disney version), Lady Godiva, the Nix, the archangel Ariel (usually known as Uriel), the Rusalka and many other besides, as well as describing a horse ride which may or may not have happened in a dream. I love this poem!
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Sylvia Plath's work especially towards the end the end inspires me to form works of vivid imagery and hidden meaning.
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I love this poem and it's fantastic imagery. Arial has a double meaning in this poem, as not only is she reffering to the god ariel, she is also writing about a horse that she owned which she named Ariel. This explains the lines
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,
as the horse is galloping away and she cannot stop it. Overall one of my favourite poems, and beatifully written. -
I love this poem. The reference to Ariel, the symbolism worked so well and again her detailed descriptions are above superb.
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I've been reading for half an hour but I can't seem to get my self into her, I've tried before, I think I'll just give up. Interesting piece though, very typical of her, I like the inferences.
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This is probley my gaveorite poem from her so far.
DJ -
I'm not sure if Ariel is a name of a greek god or semigod, but somehow I remember that he had wings on his feet to carry him across the distances. I don't know what exactly Sylvia had in mind when she wrote this, but to me it feels as if taking the name of this character, she gave it a new meaning as a poignant and bludgeoning spirit or entity that floats in the beginning of dawn, static and then hurls itself upon the morning, very well could be a distorted and imagery rich way to describe a simple sun rise, yet with taints of artermath or wrecked hopes, a shadow that seems to not even be broken by 'the cauldron of morning' as she wrote, and it only turns into 'The dw that flies, suicidal'. You would think of sunrise as gentle and delightful, yet she has painted it in a very rich and interesting atmosphere of distress as if waking up not from a nightmare, but waking to the morning's real nightmare after the numbing blackness of a nightsky. ~ Juan Anguas
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More inenbriating goodness from everyone's favorite toxic genius.I am always amazed at Plath's pathogenic stanzas,plateauing and stalling on the edge between meaningless,cryptic wordplay and divine,pensive masterwork.This poem is a great example,shifting from something to substance with every other line,keeping you on the edge of you seat in anticipation of the cathartic climax that will never come.My favorite line:"Eye, the cauldron of morning."
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