But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Sylvia Plath killed herself 42 years ago on this day.
I'm going through all the poems of hers that I have tonight (the book is getting worn, hehe) and I'm going to remember. All the famous writers/poets with bipolar disorders killed themselves...this gives me lots of hope to someday publish a book.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Sylvia Plath killed herself 42 years ago on this day.
I'm going through all the poems of hers that I have tonight (the book is getting worn, hehe) and I'm going to remember. All the famous writers/poets with bipolar disorders killed themselves...this gives me lots of hope to someday publish a book.
Are you an Anne Sexton fan, as well?