This particular piece of poetry is probably my second most favorite out of her entire collections.

It has a certain charm and allure that keeps drawing me back to it. The words seem to dance on the page, creating vivid images and emotions in my mind.

The rhythm and flow of the lines are so smooth and captivating, making it a pleasure to read aloud.

Each stanza holds a new discovery, a new layer of meaning that I uncover with each reading.

It's as if the poet has carefully crafted this poem to speak directly to my heart.

I can't help but be impressed by her talent and creativity.

This poem truly stands out among the rest of her works, and I'm sure it will continue to be a favorite of mine for a long time to come.

9/10.

Not the best, but still amazing. The Silent Hill 2 OST (Original Soundtrack) went extremely well with this book. It added an extra layer of atmosphere and emotion to the reading experience. The music seemed to enhance the dark and mysterious tone of the story, making it even more engaging. Each track seemed to fit perfectly with the different scenes and moods in the book. It was as if the music was guiding the reader through the pages, intensifying the feelings of suspense, fear, and melancholy. The combination of the Silent Hill 2 OST and this book created a unique and unforgettable experience. It made the reader feel as if they were not just reading a story, but also immersed in a world of sound and emotion. Overall, it was a great addition to the book and definitely enhanced its quality.

This is likely around the middle of her poetry releases.

I just have an intense affection for her.

If you have a penchant for good poetry, you should definitely read her works.

Her poetry has a unique charm that can touch the deepest corners of your heart.

It is filled with vivid imagery, profound emotions, and beautiful language.

Each poem is like a small world of its own, waiting for you to explore and discover.

Whether you are in a happy mood or a sad one, her poetry can always resonate with you and bring you a sense of comfort and inspiration.

So, don't hesitate to pick up one of her poetry collections and embark on a wonderful literary journey.

You will surely be amazed by her talent and the beauty of her words.

Sylvia is truly brilliant as usual.

Her intelligence and talent shine through in everything she does. Whether it's in her work, her studies, or her personal life, she always manages to stand out.

She has a unique ability to solve problems quickly and efficiently, and her creativity knows no bounds.

People are constantly amazed by her achievements and look up to her as a role model.

She is not only brilliant, but also kind-hearted and humble, which makes her even more endearing.

Overall, Sylvia is an extraordinary person who continues to inspire those around her with her brilliance and charm.

I really wanted to love it, but unfortunately, it just wasn't my cup of tea.

There were indeed some of her poems that were quite beautiful and meaningful. They had the power to touch the heart and make one think deeply.

However, the majority of them simply fell flat to me. They lacked that certain spark or something that would have made them truly stand out.

Perhaps it was a matter of personal taste or maybe I just didn't quite understand the intended message.

Nevertheless, I can't deny that there were some gems among her works.

It's just that overall, it didn't have the same impact on me as I had hoped.

Maybe with more time and a different perspective, I might come to appreciate it more.

But for now, it remains a collection of poems that I can admire in parts, but not fully embrace.

"I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit!" (Last Words).


This morning took an unexpected turn for the worse. However, finding solace in reading Plath in a park, as tiny dogs strolled by, was precisely what I required to rejuvenate my spirit. I will forever cherish her words.



"I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here" (Two Campers In Cloud Country).


I deeply identify with Plath's fixation on illumination. The recurring motifs of stars and the moon, the evening's silhouette of lit houses. Time and again, the colors blue, white, and black. It's as if she is delving into the essence of the soul and the vastness of the sea. Her words have a profound impact on me, making me reflect on my own existence and the beauty that lies within and around us.

My favorites include "Candles", "Last Words", and "A Life" (especially the ending). Also, I really like the description of the sheep's slot-like eyes in "Wuthering Heights". This is an atmospheric collection that tenuously balances between the stonily impersonal, as seen in "The Colossus", and the blazingly personal, like in "Ariel".

An excerpt from "Last Words" goes as follows: "I do not trust the spirit. It escapes like steam In dreams, through mouth-hole or eye-hole. I can't stop it. One day it won't come back. Things aren't like that. They stay, their little particular lusters Warmed by much handling."

This collection offers a diverse range of works that touch on different emotions and themes. The impersonal nature of some pieces contrasts with the intense personal nature of others, creating a unique and engaging reading experience. The excerpt from "Last Words" showcases the author's exploration of the concept of the spirit and its fleeting nature. Overall, it is a collection that is sure to leave a lasting impression on the reader.

“Shawled in blond hair and the salt,
Scrim of a sea breeze.”


Before and after my most recent surgery, I sought comfort in the works of Sylvia Plath. I obtained this collection from the American Book Center in Amsterdam last spring, and I was truly excited to finally delve into it. I also chose to read it around Earth Day due to its vivid nature and water imagery, and in April, which is dedicated to poetry month.


Although it may not be my absolute favorite collection by Plath, I must admit that I deeply felt some of the poems. Her unique style and the artistic risks she took in this collection are truly appreciable. Each poem seems to carry a piece of her soul, and as I read, I could sense her emotions and experiences. It was as if she was sharing her inner world with me, and I was privileged to be a part of it. The words on the page came alive, painting beautiful and sometimes haunting pictures in my mind.


Overall, this collection by Sylvia Plath is a testament to her talent as a poet. It may not be perfect, but it is a work of art that will continue to touch the hearts and minds of readers for years to come.

**I Am Vertical**

I would rather be horizontal. I'm not like a tree firmly rooted in the soil, greedily sucking up minerals and motherly love, only to burst into leaves each March. Nor am I the beautiful flower in a garden bed, attracting oohs and aahs with my spectacular colors, unknowing that I must soon lose my petals. Compared to me, a tree seems immortal, and a flower, though not tall, is more startling. I long for the tree's longevity and the flower's daring.

Tonight, in the faint light of the stars, the trees and flowers are spreading their cool scents. I walk among them, but none of them notice me. Sometimes I think that when I'm sleeping, I must resemble them most perfectly - with my thoughts fading away. Lying down feels more natural to me. Then, the sky and I can have an open conversation. And when I finally lie down for good, I'll be useful: the trees may touch me at last, and the flowers will have time for me.

**Small Hours**

Empty, I echo even the slightest footfall. I'm like a museum without statues, grand with its pillars, porticoes, and rotundas. In my courtyard, a fountain leaps and then sinks back into itself, as nun-hearted and blind to the world as can be. The marble lilies give off their pale color like a scent.

I imagine myself with a large public, as the mother of a white Nike and several bald-eyed Apollos. Instead, the dead bother me with their attention, and nothing seems to happen. The moon places a hand on my forehead, blank-faced and silent like a nurse.

**Mirror**

I am silver and precise. I have no prejudices. Whatever I see, I swallow immediately, just as it is, unclouded by love or dislike. I'm not cruel, only truthful - like the eye of a small, four-cornered god. Most of the time, I meditate on the opposite wall. It's pink, with speckles. I've looked at it for so long that I think it's a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness keep separating us.

Now I'm a lake. A woman bends over me, searching my depths for her true self. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitated movement of her hands. I'm important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning, it's her face that replaces the darkness. In me, she has drowned a young girl, and in me, an old woman rises towards her day after day, like a terrible fish.

**Metaphors**

I'm a riddle in nine syllables. I'm like an elephant, a ponderous house, or a melon strolling on two tendrils. Oh, red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf is swollen with its yeasty rising. Money is newly minted in this fat purse. I'm a means, a stage, a cow about to give birth. I've eaten a bag of green apples and boarded a train from which there's no escape.

**Crossing the Water**

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees that drink here go? Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering through the water flowers. Their leaves don't want us to rush: they are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar. The spirit of blackness is in us, and it's in the fishes too. A snag is raising a valedictory, pale hand.

Stars open among the lilies. Aren't you blinded by such expressionless sirens? This is the silence of astounded souls.

Into the darkness and beyond.

This simple phrase holds a world of mystery and adventure. It invites us to step out of the familiar and embrace the unknown.

The darkness can be a place of fear and uncertainty, but it can also be a source of inspiration and discovery. Beyond the darkness lies a realm of possibilities, waiting to be explored.

It could be a physical journey into uncharted territory, or a mental and emotional exploration of our deepest selves.

When we dare to venture into the darkness and beyond, we open ourselves up to new experiences and perspectives. We may encounter challenges and obstacles along the way, but it is through these difficulties that we grow and learn.

So, let us not be afraid of the darkness. Instead, let us embrace it and use it as a springboard to launch ourselves into a world of limitless potential.

Into the darkness and beyond, we go.

"PAPOILAS EM JULHO" by Georgia O'Keeffe presents a vivid and somewhat mysterious image. The small papillas are described as small infernal flames. Are they harmless? The speaker trembles at the sight of them, unable to touch. She places her hands between the flames, yet nothing burns.

When seeing them tremble, looking like the red and wrinkled skin of a mouth, the speaker is exhausted. There is a mouth that was recently bloodied, with small rims of blood. There is a smoke within it that the speaker can't touch. The speaker wonders where the opium and the nauseating capsules are.

She wishes she could be rid of blood or sleep, or that her mouth could heal such a wound. Or that the fluids of the papillas could penetrate her, bringing calm and silence. But all this is without color, without any color. The accompanying image adds to the overall atmosphere, with its details perhaps hinting at the nature of the papillas or the emotions they evoke.

"PAPOILAS EM JULHO

Pequenas papoilas, pequenas chamas infernais,
sois inofensivas?

Estremeceis. Não posso tocar-vos.
Ponho as minhas mãos por entre as chamas. Mas nada
queima.

E fico exausta quando vos vejo
estremecer assim, pregueadas e rubras como a pele da
boca.

Uma boca há pouco ensanguentada.
Pequenas orlas de sangue!

Há nela um fumo que não consigo tocar.
Onde está o vosso ópio, as vossas cápsulas nauseabundas?

Se eu pudesse esvair-me em sangue ou dormir!...
Se a minha boca conseguisse desposar uma tal ferida!

Ou os vossos licores me penetrassem, nesta cápsula de
vidro,
trazendo-me a acalmia e o silêncio.

Mas sem cor. Sem nenhuma cor."







(Georgia O'Keeffe)

I had a few poems left that I really cherished. They were like precious gems that I had carefully collected over time.

However, unfortunately, I don't have the book anymore in which those poems were written. It's such a pity because that book was not just a collection of words but also a reflection of my emotions and thoughts at that particular time.

I remember flipping through the pages, getting lost in the beauty of the poems, and feeling a sense of inspiration.

Now that the book is gone, those few remaining poems seem even more valuable to me. They are all that I have left of that wonderful collection.

I hope that one day, I will be able to find those poems again or perhaps create new ones that will touch my heart just as deeply.

Until then, I will hold onto these few precious poems and keep them safe in my memory.