Friday, August 2, 2019
Sylvia Plath Poetry Notes
Sylvia Plath Plathââ¬â¢s poetry depicts her quest for poetic inspiration and vision: In her early poems, like ââ¬ËBlack Rookââ¬â¢, Plath sees inspiration as transcendent, something that would announce itself to her from the external world. Plathââ¬â¢s language implies that she awaits a visitation of beauty, like the Annunciation by the angel in the Bible. Plath longs for an occasional ââ¬Ëportentââ¬â¢ or ââ¬Ëback talk from the mute skyââ¬â¢. She doesnââ¬â¢t believe in religious epiphany; but she uses Christian language as an analogy to convey her longing.Her longing is for even brief moments of revelation from things, nature or the universe: ââ¬ËAs if a celestial burning took possession of the most obtuse objects now and thenââ¬âThus hallowing an interval otherwise inconsequentââ¬â¢. Throughout the poem ââ¬ËBlack Rookââ¬â¢, Plath uses ââ¬Ëfireââ¬â¢ and associated words as an analogy for poetic inspiration or vision. See the extended no te on this point in Imagery below. In ââ¬ËBlack Rookââ¬â¢, Plath is resigned to the fact that inspiration involves a ââ¬Ëlong waitââ¬â¢. The euphoria of inspiration is ââ¬Ërare, randomââ¬â¢ and brief.By the time Plath Wrote ââ¬ËFinisterreââ¬â¢ four years later, she had ceased to seek or discern enlightenment or any transcendent reality in nature and the universe: ââ¬ËOur Lady of the Shipwrecked â⬠¦ does not hear what the sailor or the peasant is saying ââ¬â She is in love with the beautiful formlessness of the seaââ¬â¢ [Finisterre] . Instead, she discerns: ââ¬ËBlack admonitory cliffsââ¬â¢ and ââ¬ËSouls, rolled in the doom-noise of the seaââ¬â¢. Plathââ¬â¢s perception of the world is therefore very bleak. In the poem ââ¬ËMirrorââ¬â¢, the poetââ¬â¢s quest for beauty and vision has turned inwards. She gazes inwards towards the self.She seeks despairingly for enlightenment through self-examination. What she finds appals her: ââ¬ËA woman bends over me, searching my reaches for what she really isâ⬠¦ tears and an agitation of handsââ¬â¢. In ââ¬ËPheasantââ¬â¢, Plath declares her atheistic stance: ââ¬ËI am not mystical. It isn't As if I thought it had a spirit. It is simply in its element. ââ¬â¢ However, Plath shows that not all her poems are bleak. She experiences the aesthetic beauty of nature. She enjoys the beauty of a natural creature in its environment: ââ¬ËIt unclaps, brown as a leaf, and loud, Settles in the elm, and is easy. ââ¬â¢In ââ¬ËElmââ¬â¢ Plath probes her subconscious, and states she is saturated with self-knowledge. Plath experiences harrowing visions within the inner self. Plath invents a demon in her subconscious that gives her a very self-destructive vision: ââ¬ËI am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches? ââ¬â Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill. ââ¬â¢ [Elm] In ââ¬ËPoppies in Julyââ¬â¢, Plath seems so emotionally exhausted that she has given up the rational pursuit of the truth or any kind of vision.She longs for drugged relief, for a ââ¬Ëcolourlessââ¬â¢ state: ââ¬ËWhere are your opiates, your nauseous capsulesââ¬â¢. In ââ¬ËChildââ¬â¢ Plath has lost the capacity to find beauty for herself: ââ¬Ëthis troublous Wringing of hands, this dark Ceiling without a starââ¬â¢ But she feels a desire to provide visions of wonder and beauty for her infantââ¬â¢s eye: ââ¬ËI want to fill it with color and ducks, The zoo of the newââ¬â¢ [Child] Plath explores her own depression. Plath is exhausted and aimless: ââ¬Ënot seek any more in the desultory weather some designâ⬠¦ this season of fatigueââ¬â¢ [Black Rook]Plath predicts her own fading away, destruction or ââ¬Ëeffacementââ¬â¢: ââ¬ËI'm no more your mother than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow effacement at the wind's handââ¬â¢ [Morning Song] Plath uses a bleak landscape to portray her own despair: ââ¬ËThis was the land's end: the last fingers, knuckled and rheumatic, Cramped on nothing. Black Admonitory cliffs, and the sea exploding With no bottom, or anything on the other side of it, Whitened by the faces of the drowned. Now it is only gloomy, a dump of rocksâ⬠¦ Bay of the Deadââ¬â¢ [Finisterre] Plath reveals intense grief: When they free me, I am beaded with tearsââ¬â¢ [Finisterre] Plath confesses her deep anguish: ââ¬ËShe rewards me with tears and an agitation of handsââ¬â¢ [Mirror] Plath is very self-critical: ââ¬ËI trespass stupidly. Let be, let be. ââ¬â¢ [Pheasant] Plathââ¬â¢s fears becomes ever more nightmarish: ââ¬ËI am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in meââ¬â¢ [Elm] Plath reveals that she is inflicting suffering on herself: ââ¬ËIs it for such I agitate my heartââ¬â¢ [Elm] Plath confesses the trau matic effect of electric-convulsive treatment: ââ¬ËI have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.Scorched to the root My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wiresââ¬â¢ [Elm] Plath confesses that isolation and lack of love haunt her: ââ¬ËI am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to loveââ¬â¢ [Elm] Plath reveals that she is becoming powerless to deal with her illness: ââ¬ËIts snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the willââ¬â¢ [Elm] Plath has moments when she longs to escape her mind through drugs: ââ¬ËOr your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule, dulling and stillingââ¬â¢ [Poppies]
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