Sylvia Plath by eshettle16

Sylvia Plath

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BY: EMILY SHETTLE

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Sylvia Plath

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SYLVIA PLATH

Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932, in Boston, Massachusetts. Her mother was a master's student at Boston University when she met her father, who was a professor.

At the age of eight Sylvia lost her father from complications to diabetes. Her strained relationship is seen in her poem "Daddy".

At the age of eleven she kept a journal with her where she would write. Her first national publication was in the Christian Science Monitor in 1950, just after graduating from high school.

In 1950 Plath enrolled in Smith college. She managed to graduate with high distinction in 1955, even after going through a deep depression 1953 and a suicide attempt.

In early 1956, she attended a party and met the English poet Ted Hughes. Shortly thereafter, Plath and Hughes were married, on June 16, 1956.

She gave birth to her children Frieda and Nicholas, in 1960 and 1962. In 1962, Ted Hughes left Plath for a women named Assia Gutmann Wevill. That winter, in a deep depression, Plath wrote most of the poems that would comprise her most famous book, Ariel.

On February 11, 1963 Plath wrote a note to her downstairs neighbor asking him to call the doctor, then she committed suicide using her gas oven.

Sylvia's style of poetry:Confessional PoetryConfessional poetry is about personal accounts and emotions.

"Lady Lazarus"By: Sylvia Plath

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it——A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot

A paperweight,My face a featureless, fine Jew linen.Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breathWill vanish in a day.Soon, soon the fleshThe grave cave ate will be At home on me

And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty.And like the cat I have nine times to die.This is Number Three. What a trashTo annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to seeThem unwrap me hand and foot——The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands My knees.I may be skin and bone,Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident.

The second time I meantTo last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shutAs a seashell.They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

The second time I meantTo last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shutAs a seashell.They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

DyingIs an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.It’s easy enough to do it and stay put. It’s the theatricalComeback in broad dayTo the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’That knocks me out. There is a chargeFor the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart——It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of bloodOr a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,I am your valuable, The pure gold babyThat melts to a shriek. I turn and burn.Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—You poke and stir.Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer BewareBeware.Out of the ashI rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

In her poem Sylvia talks about her multiple suicide attempts. Using disturbing imagery and metaphors she really gets her haunting messages across.

Sylvia's use of imagery is outstanding and really gets the point across. Using strong imagery can really add a lot of emotional impact to a poem.

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Sylvia's style of poetry:

Confessional Poetry

Confessional poetry is about personal accounts and emotions.

"Lady Lazarus"
By: Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart——
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.