To Plath

[heslopian]

I know you were insane, and would have driven me away
just like everybody else. The letters left you by young men
on fan pages and in journals, saying how they love you so,
and could have saved you, cleansed your soul,
never fail to amuse. I don't believe in destiny,
but if threads drew to us our fate
yours would lead where you ended,
with the oven and the sealed doorway.

Red blooded bitch, demented clown,
beneath the frocks and New York hair,
the shining salons, white blouses,
a smile like the Joker's sat,
lipstick soaking gangrenous wounds.
When you raised the steel golf club,
reduced Ted's office to kindling,
I wonder if you laughed slightly,
the corners of your lips turned up
to imitate a psychopath
hacking at a man's innards.

Your poetry and short stories are always best
when you're screaming, hiding from the metal bed
with the wires jutting out, unsure whether you'd like to kill
or have sex with your father. The works about women's issues,
lady writers, love affairs, church socials and spring mushrooms,
never quite rang true, as though the Joker sold his knife,
washed away his white face paint, and dedicated his spare time
to growing lilacs in the shed.

[billy]

I know you were insane, and would have driven me away
just like everybody else. The letters left you by young men a little ambiguous but it works on two levels.
on fan pages and in journals, saying how they love you so,
and could have saved you, cleansed your soul,
never fail to amuse. I don't believe in destiny,
but if threads drew to us our fate
yours would lead where you ended,
with the oven and the sealed doorway.

Red blooded bitch, demented clown,
beneath the frocks and New York hair,
the shining salons, white blouses,
a smile like the Joker's sat, feels un plath like
lipstick soaking gangerous wounds. should it be gangrenous
When you raised the steel golf club,
reduced Ted's office to kindling,
I wonder if you laughed slightly,
the corners of your lips turned up
to imitate a psychopath
hacking at a man's innards. would the work instead of 'a'

Your poetry and short stories are always best
when you're screaming, hiding from the metal bed
with the wires jutting out, unsure whether you'd like to kill
or have sex with your father. The works about women's issues,
lady writers, love affairs, church socials and spring mushrooms,
never quite rang true, as though the Joker sold his knife, again the joker reference feels forced
washed away his white face paint, and dedicated his spare time
to growing lilacs in the shed.

the poem works really well, though i'm not sure the joker references work. somehow i can't see plath and the joker sharing anything, not even their lipstick. while it holds a lot of plath for me it holds too much of you.
i read your sexton poem and though that held some of yu within it it was all about her. here, i'm not sure she's a solid enough focus of attention.

could just be me of course as i'm still coming to terms with sexton and plath,

a much better than average poem that needs a solid edit JMO

thanks for the read jack.

oops, forgot about the picture.; for me it was a little too obvious.

[heslopian]

Thank you for the feedback and the heads up on the spelling mistake Bilbo. For me this poem is more about how I perceive Plath than who Plath might in reality have been. To quote Anne Sexton: "it doesn't matter who my father was; what matters is who I remember he was". This is kind of like the other half of my other Plath poem "For Sylvia Plath". Whereas the latter was all about Plath, the former is about how I think of Plath. Thanks again for the feedback and kind words.

[billy]

how about using a pic to show that, the title obviously does, it shouts it's what you feel, maybe it's the pic that sidelines enough of the you in there to make you seem like an interloper.

[heslopian]

What about a picture of one of Plath's books? Would that make the subjective more apparent? As opposed to a picture of her or her grave.

[rowens]

If only Emily Dickinson had let her hair down in the famous portrait of her. I don't care how often people use the word 'plain' when describing her... But with the hair up, you can always imagine watching her take it down.

[billy]

i just came back to this one jack; how about photoshopping a pic of her and a clown, two halves stuck together. ...jesus, am i tripping

[heslopian]

I think you are Billy Thanks for the comment, rowens Dickinson did have a strange sensuality about her...