SYLVIA PLATH: AN HOMAGE TO

Everything in life is writable about
If you have the outgoing guts to do it
And the imagination to improvise.

Quote by Sylvia Plath

~~~~~~~

PRESS THE DRESS

Dedication: Sylvia Plath

Press the dress
And praise the days –
All corpses decay,
Peer into her ways.

*Two little trees
In a grove by the sea:
Pleasant in the breeze –
Earthly memories;

A blood-letting soul –
Encrypted-disease;
A silence echoes
Screams in the breeze.

Wax the fitting words,
Dust the silken parts,
Let homage be heard –
Praise a good heart;

Dreams scream –
As nights pass by –
For a lovers desire;
Light the candle and sigh.

*Freida and Nicholas

~~~~~~~

DID THE ENGLISH CROW KNOW?

Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, and Assia Wevill

An American Cow stands
In the cold, English rain.
The English Crow flies in,
Tired and a bit lame;

He thinks the Cow is insane
To play an every ten year game;
Carbon Monoxide; a no win game.
Insane! She lost! Shame! Shame!

Why did Assia play the same game?
Did the Crow know she was insane --
Before she lost at the same game?
Carbon Monoxide, Shame! Shame!

Their heads in the oven, insane.
Both Cows died the same.
Dead, and themselves to blame?
The Crow was left behind to rearrange,

Edit, and make the insane look sane
For the little ones that remain;
The children, the children.
Shame . . . Shame. . .

~~~~~~~

I’M NOT AN ENGLISH ROSE I AM ME

Dedication: David

I'm not an English Rose, I am me,
I am American . . . remember me?
I am the one who set you free;
-- Another American --
And English love affair
Going nowhere!
Everything’s the same,
Everything’s different;
Love became difficult with
The blows from your black eyes
Lashing out and injuring me,
Like an arrow in flight,
And so I had to set you free;
Your ambition was killing me,
And your dreams of what will never be.
I am American . . . remember me?

I take the poker from the fireplace,
And I push it deep into my chest;
I have cauterized a festering wound.
Unlike a Goat on the Rack, I scream,
I scream, because I am an American,
Not an English Rose! Oh, hell!  Just forget me!

~~~~~~~

A SUICIDE SHOULD BE TIDY

Dedication: Sylvia Plath

Suicides aught to be tidy and neat;
No loose ends to let thoughts creep
Into the minds of the bereaved.
They should be performed
When a mind is sharp; at its best,
So, that there will be naught left
To make those left behind think
You are less than. No infections to speak of;
No sad bones to pine over.
I’ve thought about it once or twice;
I mean who hasn’t? However,
It would take too long for me
To prepare; I would have to unload; you see --

I hoard, and then I would have to be in control;
Pay my bills; get rid of the old clothes,
And then what would I do with my precious
Doggie girl; she gets depressed too easily.
Why I could never leave her, she would die.

When I say that I think back to you
Leaving your two little ones in a room --
With the window open, and in the cold-
Winter and I could not do that to my dog.
So self says to self; something is wrong

With this scenario; perhaps you really
Didn’t kill yourself? Perhaps you
Really didn’t intend to? O but I don’t
Suppose we will ever know, will we?
I have known of people who have died

From the hands of their beloved husband
Or wife; no one did anything, after all
They were ill, weren’t they? Have you
Not yourself looked upon an old
Widow woman or man, and wondered?

~~~~~~~

A BLINK, BLINK!

Her hair has been meticulously arranged.
Her make up is perfection personified.
Her dress is starched and clean,
And her fingers have been broken,
So they will lean in a lovely array,
With a rosary draped sweet.

The casket is new, the best they make,
In a lovely shade of grey; the pillow
Is fluffed, and music plays sweet and low,
As this dead doll is approached, touched,
And discussed so very much. Ah, we
See before us an American Funeral,
And all is well; she is worth the cost.

I say, O God, don’t let me loose control,
For I laugh when I do! I cry when I’m happy,
And I laugh when I’m sad, and that’s too bad,
And inappropriate at a funeral. Then I think
To what will happen when I die and I sigh;
Why give me roses when I won’t know?

You never sent them when I knew.
Why put perfection around me when
I’m sloven and a sloth, or is that slouth?
Why be over-wroth, when I’ve not seen you
In ten years; you sent no Christmas cards!
Just discard me up on that hill.

Don’t worry over the bill; I’ve enough,
More than enough; have a party,
Eat and drink hardily. Hell,
Sell my house, go on a cruise,
That’s what I’d like you to do,
With a conscious that’s clean,

And please – don’t remember me as sweet;
Say what you think – blink, blink,
You’ll soon be down here with me! (Hee -- Hee)    

~~~~~~~

All contents copyrighted by Jean Elizabeth Ward 2006
Published with iUniverse.com -- Barnes & Nobles 2007
SYLVIA PLATH:
AN HOMAGE TO
BY
JEAN ELIZABETH WARD

Poet Laureate
Multimedia Artist
Mandala Maker
Published Author
EXCERPTS FROM THE BOOK

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME 1998

I awaited my birthday,
So pleased to reach fifty-five,
And still be alive. My present?
You will never guess!
A divorce -- was his request!

And now I'm busy
As you might see,
Dividing up a lifetime
Of memories, so he can be
Happy and free of me!

Oh, today I think --
That was just one more step
For Superwoman --
One more moment in time;
Not too much for me to do;

In my veins there runs juice
Of the lemon and the lime,
And now-a-days
I walk upright too,
Don't all fools?

~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ETERNITY DOESN’T BORE ME

Eternity doesn’t bore me as it does you,
Nor do I find confusion over it as you do;
I believe, I like to think I believe, I have to
Believe, and yet I see the animals die --
And I hear you say,
“There is no heaven for the animals!”
And I question this,
As the snake hisses --
Out in the ivy by the creek,
And, yet I reek over the thought;
Give me another thought
Lighter than this for this day;
Perhaps clay
To which
The pottery is made;
Not the clay
In which
I’ll be laid,
Or the clay
In which
My beloved lays,
Just clay,
Simple clay,
In which
I can mold a pot, --
Something I can forget
And by it -- forgot,
That is all, yes, that is all.


~~~~~~~

BOOKS PUBLISHED WITH
iUniverse/Barnes & Nobles

ELVIS: THE FAIRY TALE

JOHN DONNE: AN HOMAGE TO

MY SPECIAL BOOK
(Basic Poetry with Instructions)

A BARBARA ANNE BUSHY TALE
(Children’s Collection in Rhyme)

EARTH SPIRIT
(Native American Indian Poems and Quotes)

SEABROOK WITHIN A GARDEN
(Poems about Seabrook, Texas and Garden Poetry)

SERENE SPECULATIONS
(Thought Provoking and Inspirational)

LOVE AND LOSS: DIVORCE POETRY
(The good, bad, ugly, they are all here)

POETRY A’ LA’ SHAPE
(Poetry in shapes and forms)

BROTHERS and SISTERS OF THE SOIL
(A Child Abuse Awareness Book)

SYLVIA PLATH: AN HOMAGE TO

MY JAPANESE POETRY


OTHER COLLECTIONS INCLUDE

Mary Todd Lincoln’s life in rhyme
Abraham Lincoln in rhyme
The Civil war in rhyme

Life before the Galveston 1900 hurricane
The failure of an American Woman
The old man who loved the sea

Folklore and Fables
Several Children’s series

Series: And the Old Woman Said

Homage to Many Other Poets

A book featuring my Mandalas Designs
With Poetry written for each

A Series in Alphabetical Order
And a Picture book with 25 illustrations
Of
Elvis Presley and his family

There are many more waiting
To be complied together and edited

Jean Elizabeth Ward

Poet Laureate
Multimedia Artist
Mandala Maker
Published Author




All contents copyrighted by Jean Elizabeth Ward 2006
Published with iUniverse.com -- Barnes & Nobles 2007




I AM A MANDALA MAKER
Copyrighted by Jean Elizabeth Ward

The Mandala Maker,
Precise and proud,
Draws her line
And thinks out loud.

What will it be
That I will see tonight?

I must not think,
Yet think . . . right,
She closes her eyes,
Thank you for this moment;

... She writes ...
To the left and to the right,
Around and around she goes,
One side and then the other
As she dwells not --
On the future, the past,
Her family, or her lover.

Alas, alas she
Has completed this one,
And to The Mandala Maker
It was creative fun.

~~~~~~~
Copyrighted by
Starward Studio 2003
Jean Elizabeth Ward

SYLVIA PLATH:
AN HOMAGE TO

By

Jean Elizabeth Ward
Poet Laureate

iUniverse
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Book #1 of My Japanese Poetry
is now available online at iUniverse.com.

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Book #2 will be available in 2007.