A Microwave Oven
breakfast
microwaved
sandwich and
coffee. it is
flat like
sylvia.
plath, sick
genius.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.
Sylvia Plath in The Journals of Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a sylvia plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe shed take me to france
Or maybe to spain and shed ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
Shed ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then shed get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe shed give me a bath
How I wish I had a sylvia plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, shed be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And Id swim to the boat and Id laugh
I gotta get me a sylvia plath
And maybe shed take me to france
Or maybe to spain and shed ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
Shed ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then shed get pretty loaded on gin
And maybe shed give me a bath
How I wish I had a sylvia plath
I wish I had a sylvia plath
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fog on the Hillocks Melts Away
The fog on the hillocks melts away,
it’s another bright sunny day
and people do not really know me
the beings beyond the stars
look down at me and cannot properly
make up their minds
if I am living like a saint, or sinner
or is a little bit of both,
the smell of smoke from the train,
and the nearby black township
is on the air
but the light wind blows it away
and the flowers in the garden
all smile up at me, as if delighted
to have my company
and nothing really threatens,
the heaven is blue above me
and at night the stars sparkle invitingly
are drawing me to a world,
a place in the beyond
where my dear father waits
and everything is clear, lovely and sunny
without pain or regret
and nothing bad besets anyone.
(In Answer to Sylvia Plath/Reference: Sheep in Fog by Sylvia Plath.)
poem by Gert Strydom
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Is there no way out of the mind?
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am too pure for you or anyone.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I talk to God, but the sky is empty.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What did my hands do before they held you?
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I talk to God but the sky is empty.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiss me and you will see how important I am.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is it Tea or Coffee?
Is it Tea or Coffee?
Tell me!
My instant early morning dream
I like it black, white with sugar or cream!
The choice is free
Yet the mind cannot agree
With Tea is a Yippee!
With Coffee it is a Whoopee!
The thought of a little caffeine
The smell of fresh roasted beans
Will once again set off my adrenalin
While my exhausted brain is waiting
That stirring cup of sizzling black
Put on the kettle; spill the beans out of the sack
I will pay the fee; I will pay the levee
I will beg on one knee for a little bit of Coffee
Take a sip of the early morning coffee
Close your eyes and try to see
As you smell the airy aroma like a bee
Tea or Coffee! Perhaps you now understand me
Those swarms of dark brown seeds
They feed my vicious needs indeed
I don’t care how much I pee or how much I wee
For that sparking liquid of hot black called coffee
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widow. The word consumes itself.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.
quote by Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breakfast
A dinner party, coffee, tea,
Sandwich, or supper, all may be
In their way pleasant. But to me
Not one of these deserves the praise
That welcomer of new-born days,
A breakfast, merits; ever giving
Cheerful notice we are living
Another day refreshed by sleep,
When its festival we keep.
Now although I would not slight
Those kindly words we use, 'Good night,'
Yet parting words are words of sorrow,
And may not vie with sweet 'Good morrow,'
With which again our friends we greet,
When in the breakfast-room we meet,
At the social table round,
Listening to the lively sound
Of those notes which never tire,
Of urn, or kettle on the fire.
Sleepy Robert never hears
Or urn or kettle; he appears
When all have finished, one by one
Dropping off, and breakfast done.
Yet has he too his own pleasure,
His breakfast hour's his hour of leisure;
And, left alone, he reads or muses,
Or else in idle mood he uses
To sit and watch the venturous fly,
Where the sugar's pilëd high,
Clambering o'er the lumps so white,
Rocky cliffs of sweet delight.
poem by Charles Lamb
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How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought.
quote by Sylvia Plath
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You marvel at the economy and this choice of words. How many ways can you describe the sky and the moon? After Sylvia Plath, what can you say?
quote by Toni Morrison
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