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Syliva Plath

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Radhika Chouhan

on 11 November 2011

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Transcript of Syliva Plath

Sylvia
Plath .......1932......................................................................................................1941..................1950................1951...............1952................1953.............1954............1955..............................1956.......................................1957........1958......1959.......1960.........1961..........1962.................................................................................................1963 Sylvia Plath was born on 27th October at Massachusetts Memorial Hospital. Her family soon moved to Winthrop, Massachusetts just east of Boston, where Plath became familiar and intimate with the sea. From an early age she enjoyed the sea and was able to recognize its beauty and power. Throughout her childhood she was sensitive, intelligent, and strived for perfection in everything she attempted. 8 years old. Plath was first recognised when her poem appeared in the Boston Herald. From around 1944 on, Plath kept a journal. They gained an importance to her in her writing as she relied on them for inspiration and documentation. She captured ideas for poems and stories, and wrote about her ambitions. Plath often used these as inspriation for her writing. In the early 1950's as Plath matured as a Smith girl, and she began writing very pretty poems. She had the craft of poem making down, but she did not have a unique voice - instead, she longed to the make her poems 'perfect'. She worked hard on syllabics, payed close attention on line lengths, stanza lengths and a variety of other poetic styles that any beginner must know. 24th August Syliva Plath left home with a note saying:

"Have gone for a long walk. Will be home tomorrow." She took a blanket, a bottle of sleeping pills, a glass of water with her down the stairs to the cellar, where she began swallowing the pills in gulps of water and fell unconscious. This was her first suicide attempt. Her recovery was not easy, but Plath slowly recovered and was readmitted to Smith for the spring 1954 semester. This is really the beginning of Sylvia Plath, poet. She relied on her thesaurus to push her way through poem after poem. Plath was influenced by and eventually was considered equal to famous poets such as Dylan Thomas, Wallace Stevens, and W.H. Auden. Admontions Denouement If you dissect a bird
To diagram the tongue
You'll cut the chord
Articulating song.

If you flay a beast
To marvel at the mane
You'll wreck the rest
From which the fur began.

If you pluck out the heart
To find what makes it move,
You'll halt the clock
That syncopates our love. The telegram says you have gone away
And left our bankrupt circus on its town;
There is nothing more for me to say.

The maestro gives the singing birds their pay
And they buy tickets for the tropic zone;
The telegram says you have gone away.

The clever woolly dogs have had their day
They shoot the dice for one remaining bone;
There is nothing more for me to say.

The lion and the tigers turn to clay
And Jumbo sadly trumpets into stone;
The telegram says you have gone away.

The morbid cobra's wits have run astray;
He rents his poisons out by telegram;
There is nothing more for me to say.

The colored tenst all topple in the bay;
The magic sawdust writes: address unknown.
The telegram says you have gone away;
There is nothing more for me to say. Sylvia Plath met Ted Hughes and married him soon after on 16th June. He greatly influenced her work and she wrote quite a few odes and poems for him especially. Pursuit There is a panther stalks me down:
One day I'll have my death of him;
His greed has set the woods aflame,
He prowls more lordly than the sun.
Most soft, most suavely glides that step,
Advancing always at my back;
From gaunt hemlock, rooks croak havoc:
The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.
Flayed by thorns I trek the rocks,
Haggard through the hot white noon.
Along red network of his veins
What fires run, what craving wakes?

I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blook;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash;
Appalled by secret want, I rush
From such assault of radiance.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:

The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs. The Moon and the Yew Tree In 1961 Plath completed 22 poems.
Among them are Morning Song, Tulips, In Plaster, Barren Woman, and Parliament Hill Fields, The Surgeon at 2 a.m., I am Vertical, Heavy Woman and Insomniac, which one first prize at the 1962 Cheltenham Festival Poetry Competition. This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky --
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness -
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence. In 1957 Plath returned to the U.S., where she worked as a teacher of literature at the Smith College. From 1958 to 1959 she worked as a clerk in Boston and studied poetry at Robert Lowell's course. 1959 brought travel to Plath and Hughes They had decided to move back to England. Plath became pregnant and Hughes wanted the child to be born on his native soil. That autumn the two poets went to Yaddo, a writer's colony in Saratoga Springs, New York. After getting accustomed to that environment, Plath was able to mix personal experience with the current landscape at her disposal.

The poems she wrote then were inspired by what she was seeing. Plath wrote only 12 poems in 1960. Among them, though, are the wonderful poems "You're" and "Candles", and the eerie "The Hanging Man".

In addition to poetry, Plath began to write fiction again. She also had an appendectomy, which left her stitched and hospitalized for a number of weeks. It was the experience of being hospitalized that charged Plath in a writing frenzy that produced "Tulips" and "In Plaster" and also gave her momentum on writing a novel. Plath is trapped in this poem - she cannot see in what direction to head. The Moon and the Yew Tree began as an exercise Hughes had assigned to Plath. Plath is looking out of her window and she "simply cannot see where there is to get to." She looks to the moon and the to yew tree for the answers, but she finds only "blackness and silence." In London, on February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath killed herself with cooking gas at the age of 30. During her career as writer Plath was loosely linked to the confessional poets, a term used to describe among others Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, and John Berryman. Her literary reputation rests mainly on her carefully crafted pieces of poetry, particularly the verse that she composed in the months leading up to her death. This was the time period when she really discovered her own voice. Plath has been considered a deeply honest writer, whose self-scrutiny has given a unique point of view to the theme of the feminist-martyr in a patriarchal society. Confessional
Poetry
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