Who is Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath (/plæθ/; October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963) was an American poet, novelist, and short-story writer. Born in Boston, Massachusetts, she studied at Smith College and Newnham College at the University of Cambridge before receiving acclaim as a poet and writer. She married fellow poet Ted Hughes in 1956, and they lived together in the United States and then in England. They had two children, Frieda and Nicholas, before separating in 1962.

Plath was clinically depressed for most of her adult life, and was treated multiple times with electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). She died by suicide in 1963.

Plath is credited with advancing the genre of confessional poetry and is best known for two of her published collections, The Colossus and Other Poem...
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Sylvia Plath Poems

  • Waking In Winter
    I can taste the tin of the sky â??- the real tin thing.
    Winter dawn is the color of metal,
    The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.
    All night I have dreamed of destruction, annihilations â??- ...
  • Love Is A Parallax
    'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
    train tracks always meet, not here, but only
    in the impossible mind's eye;
    horizons beat a retreat as we embark ...
  • The Great Carbuncle
    We came over the moor-top
    Through air streaming and green-lit,
    Stone farms foundering in it,
    Valleys of grass altering ...
  • The Death Of Myth-making
    Two virtues ride, by stallion, by nag,
    To grind our knives and scissors:
    Lantern-jawed Reason, squat Common Sense,
    One courting doctors of all sorts, ...
  • Incommunicado
    The groundhog on the mountain did not run
    But fatly scuttled into the splayed fern
    And faced me, back to a ledge of dirt, to rattle
    Her sallow rodent teeth like castanets ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Sylvia Plath

Blue 40 Green 40 White 37 Black 34 Love 32 Sun 32 I Love You 32 Red 30 Dark 29 Light 27


Sylvia Plath Quotes

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Comments about Sylvia Plath

  • Anoldsoul04: how frail the human heart must be -- a throbbing pulse, a trembling thing -- a fragile, shining instrument of crystal, which can either weep or sing.. ~ sylvia plath
  • Sarcasmliving: perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.― sylvia plath
  • Lunarisasimp: "is there no way out of the mind?" -sylvia plath
  • Petloverhermine: 25feb/1956 poets ted hughes (25) and sylvia plath (23) meet at a party in cambridge, u.k.
  • 99poppy: "i buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. i couldn't see the point of getting up. i had nothing to look forward to." —sylvia plath
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Poem of the day

John Greenleaf Whittier Poem
The Light That Is Felt
 by John Greenleaf Whittier

A tender child of summers three,
Seeking her little bed at night,
Paused on the dark stair timidly.
'Oh, mother! Take my hand,' said she,
'And then the dark will all be light.'

We older children grope our way
From dark behind to dark before;
...

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