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Comment 24 of 104, added on February 18th, 2005 at 11:49 AM.
This poem has really brought out my sensitive side. I have been living all
my life in a circus juggling with one arm because I lost my right
arm...well basically I lost my right shoulder. It happened in the civil war
when a quarter jew, quarter nazi, quarter samari warrior chopped my arm off
in the battle of Gettysburg. I was fighting a laughing Hyena when all of
the sudden the cheap blastard of a samari chopped my shoulder off from
behind. So I blew his head off with a bazooka. In the end this trauma has
made me feel inferior to Josh Hostetler and his double shoulder
personality.
Kelly Bry from Botswana
Comment 23 of 104, added on February 17th, 2005 at 11:42 AM.
I think that this poem is weird and only weirdo's read it when they are not
forced.
YO. just kidding... i love it. It's got soul.
Josh Host. from Cuba
Comment 22 of 104, added on February 7th, 2005 at 9:42 PM.
Yea as i've heard from my Poetry teacher, her greatest works were created
in her darkest and worst of times, the months leading up to her suicide.
Her works are great, such raw emotion and talent
Jared from United States
Comment 21 of 104, added on January 27th, 2005 at 11:30 AM.
Qtto who’s ancestral German name had been Platt was a professor of German
and biology, (his specialty was bees) Otto became ill and was convinced it
was cancer. He refused treatment because of the lack of a cure for cancer.
His illness became so advanced it threatened his life. He discovered he
had diabetes’s and had to have his leg amputated due to gangrene. ( This
directly explains the German thoughts and the one shoe from the beginning
of this poem.) Her living like a foot in this shoe reflects her grief with
his passing. She was 8 years old when he died and obviously felt abandoned
She was also suicidal for a vast majority of her life. As described in the
“Bell Jar”. Her fathers death and life itself became a burden to her. She
references her father and his bees in many poems. This is a huge part of
her angst.
The photo she describes is the only picture of her father she had. ( This
is intensely described in the “Bell Jar”) As is the fact she was not
allowed by her mother to attend the funeral or his gravesite. The poem
then turns to her first suicide attempt which once again the “Bell Jar” is
based upon. She then turns the poem towards Ted. She looked for the
closest thing she could find to her father in a man. Someone to fill the
grieving void. She trusted this would last forever. Although, she feared
it would not. Abandonment seemed her greatest fear. She sowed this at
times with jealousy. Sylvia discovered Ted’s affair with Assia via a
phone call to him that she answered. She recognized the disguised voice on
the other end of the line. This represents the line referring to the black
phone. And the voice trying to worm through. The last lines refer to her
giving up on both burdens I mentioned earlier.
I have an annoying habit of reading various biographies of any writers I
feel fit to do so to. I would recommend the “ Bell Jar” to anyone whom
really admires this writer. I also would recommend looking into her life
further after reading that. At that point all of her writings begin to
make sense in accordance to her own life. Thank you for taking the time
to read my comments.
Lenore from United States
Comment 20 of 104, added on January 26th, 2005 at 6:30 PM.
To those who think this is not about her Dad let me give you some info, her
dad taught German at Boston University, he died from gangrene complications
(his toe turned black look at first stanza), he was born in Poland, and was
of German decent...thus all the Nazi comments...she may not have loved her
husband at this point, but I definately think this poem was about her
father.
Jen from United States
Comment 19 of 104, added on January 3rd, 2005 at 3:48 PM.
Sylvia Plath is my favorite poet. Her poems are so deep and real. She spoke
her mind about things that were really happening to her. "Daddy" speaks to
me in that I understand the feelings of anger that she poured into it. In
the process of accepting her father's death, she felt deserted and alone. I
believe anger is great fuel for writing poetry.
Ashlynn from United States
Comment 18 of 104, added on December 30th, 2004 at 8:50 PM.
I think this poem is about Both her Husband ted and about her Dad,it seems
to say more about her dad but truly a lot more about her husband,its almost
like you have to be in a certain mood and time of your life to understand
the every true meaning of her words,making a connection with your heart and
feelings.The anger and passion in her words touch me so strong...I have
been absolutely in love w/ her work since the first time I read about her.
Danielle from United States
Comment 17 of 104, added on December 20th, 2004 at 8:42 AM.
wellthe poem is masterly sewed and the important aspecyt abt this is that
it is abt *HITLER the great* and her deep emotional attachement with her
father.so a sweet gal /boy can understand this if really he had been loved
. if u r one u can get it
mani from India
Comment 16 of 104, added on December 11th, 2004 at 9:30 PM.
Personally after reading critics on several of her poems it about not only
her father Otto but also about her husband who left her for a younger girl
when it sayd 7 years, she was married to her husband for 7 years for some
reason she feels the need to make herself older when her father dies he
died when she was 8 not 10 when she was 20 she tries to comment suicide
thats why that part is in there and the vampire is her husband, she wants
to let go of him but can't until she said she was through, she never really
gets over him though((((i don't belive this poems about anger, stress, but
more about hopelesses ness and abandement from the men in her life, they
controlled her future not the other way around))))
Taylor from United States
Comment 15 of 104, added on December 3rd, 2004 at 12:35 PM.
this poem is good but it is crazy!!!!
Stacy from United States
This poem has been commented on more than 10 times. Click below to see the other comments.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [9] 10 11
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This poem has really brought out my sensitive side. I have been living all
my life in a circus juggling with one arm because I lost my right
arm...well basically I lost my right shoulder. It happened in the civil war
when a quarter jew, quarter nazi, quarter samari warrior chopped my arm off
in the battle of Gettysburg. I was fighting a laughing Hyena when all of
the sudden the cheap blastard of a samari chopped my shoulder off from
behind. So I blew his head off with a bazooka. In the end this trauma has
made me feel inferior to Josh Hostetler and his double shoulder
personality.
Kelly Bry from Botswana