I am fish-rotten full of wanting gull or hawk;
Some scavenger to pick bones clean as ivory
Let those plumpy cells dry, wither, sift and shift.
Let other mourners mourn together.
I choose to soak in sorrow until it is leaked out.
That is how I grieve best, steeped
Like dark tea, no sweetener, so I know I have tasted it
Long after rim of cracked cup leaves my lips.
No hand to brow nor patronizing pats
Will do any good to stop this chiseling sad spring.
What they do not know is, once dam breaks
Once all the little flip-flopping things have stilled,
Then there is peace at the very depths.
I cut my teeth on fish bones. Several are stuck
Somewhere between throat and heart.
Author notes
Sylvia Plath herself has said, "I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathize with these cries from the heart that are informed by nothing except a needle or a knife, or whatever it is. I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrifying, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and intelligent mind."
In a list
A contest entry
- By Sylvia by skitza.
500 points, ended June 20, 2007, 3 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"No hand to brow nor patronizing pats
Will do any good to stop this chiseling sad spring.
What they do not know is, once dam breaks
Once all the little flip-flopping things have stilled,
Then there is peace at the very depths."
You are brilliant, my Sister. Just brilliant. Good luck in the contest, Sweetie. You just lifted the bar into the clouds. 
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Holy crap..Slyvia would be proud..wow.
This is fine, brilliant work hon..just excellent.
"Like dark tea, no sweetener, so I know I have tasted it"
I loved this.
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Amazing. This is what I hoped for. I can definitely see how Sylvia Plath has influenced your writing in this poem. It was well written with grammar and everything (which makes a nice change here). I also like how the poem connects to the picture. Sylvia Plath herself writes about certain things she sees and this is the sort of thing I'd expect.
'I am fish-rotten full of wanting gull or hawk;
Some scavenger to pick bones clean as ivory'
'I choose to soak in sorrow until it is leaked out.
That is how I grieve best, steeped
Like dark tea, no sweetener, so I know I have tasted it
Long after rim of cracked cup leaves my lips.'
'I cut my teeth on fish bones. Several are stuck
Somewhere between throat and heart.'
Amazing. Congratulations on such a wonderful piece of art.
Thank you for entering.
skitza
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