The sting of bees took away my father
who walked in a swarming shroud of wings
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
Lightning licked in a yellow lather
but missed the mark with snaking fangs:
the sting of bees took away my father.
Trouncing the sea like a ragin bather,
he rode the flood in a pride of prongs
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
A scowl of sun struck down my mother,
tolling her grave with golden gongs,
but the sting of bees took away my father.
He counted the guns of god a bother,
laughed at the ambush of angels' tongues,
and scorned the tick of the falling weather.
O ransack the four winds and find another
man who can mangle the grin of kings:
the sting of bees took away my father
who scorned the tick of the falling weather.
Lament
Sylvia Plath
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Poem topics: god, mother, pride, sea, sun, grave, golden, bother, yellow, away, father, weather, sting, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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AYASI RAY: It describes the pangs and agonies of some one losing her parents. Heart touching poem. Interesting use of literary terms. Like this.
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