for Susan O’Neill Roe
What a thrill —-
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge
A flap like a hat,
Then that red plush.
The Indian’s axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz. A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they one?
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill
Kamikaze man —-
The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux Klan
Darkens and tarnishes and when
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump —-
shut up/literally no one is asking you
how on earth was she trying to be racist? was there any sort of racial comment made at all whatsoever? just wondering
lol , so u r tryin to be racist now ? Anyway , i bet i look way better than u cud dream of.
U suk btw
dude what the hell kinda name is sarthak…so first off your probably really ugly so boo you and second how do you know what she went through in her life seriously just back off and get a life!!
Guys , seriously , she doesn’t deserve the fame she has. All you plath nerds, get a life guys. Study maths, physics , business , stuff that will help you. If you continue reading crap like this , you will end up with the same fate that plath did. You will become suicidal and will start seeing death everywhere. Trust me , she’s not worth it.
Just wish that she was alive so that i could kill her again.
A crappy poem from an emo poet. what the hell was she thinkin off
If i screw my IB english up , its cause if this shit
I love how she turns a simple cut, something that everyone has done at one
at one point or another, and turned it into a metaphor of her life.i like this poem that she wrote.
I love how she turns a simple cut, something that everyone has done at one at one point or another, and turned it into a metaphor of her life. She looks at her thumb so apathetically, as though it’s just something else she expected, another blow. If Prozac is stopping people from writing more poetry like this, then I say we outlaw it. Sylvia Plath turned her depression into art, something everyone could learn from.
me personally i love this peom.. but what fascinates me and really confusing me at the same time *if thats possible* is how she can make us readers pick all these images out of her writing over just cutting her thumb while making the dinner? im sure we have all cut ourselves at one time *if not then get out of your bubble* but it takes a true gifted person to turn it into something so horrible like the Klu Klux Klan..
3 cheers for her mind!:)
I think the real issue in the poem is not the fact that she accidently cut her thumb, which doesn’t actually make for that much of an interesting poem, but her attitude. The pain of her wide eyed, exhausted indifference. “What a thrill – my thumb instead of an onion”. She looks on apathetic as she bleeds, numb and detached from the situation, and somehow savouring it as a ‘thrill’, an excitement. Her emotions are so real and aching, it makes the writing all the more beautiful.
The imagery is graphic yet neccessary – if that makes any sense. Sylvia Plath is a fantastic poet.
wonderful, albeit graphic imagery…
go sylvia its your birthday