September Hint #3

depravedDyer's picture

Resolve

Day of mist: day of tarnish

with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van

the one-eared cat laps its gray paw

and the coal fire burns

outside, the little hedge leaves are become quite yellow a milk-film blurs the empty bottles on the windowsill

no glory descends

two water drops poise on the arched green stem of my neighbor's rose bush

o bent bow of thorns

the cat unsheathes its claws the world turns

today today I will not disenchant my twelve black-gowned examiners or bunch my fist in the wind's sneer.

Sylvia Plath

Comments

Hazel Smith's picture

Sylvia Plath

Oh so sad. Depressing, depressed, suicidal, dead at 30. I'll have to think about this one.

more poetry?

Was this one posted because the Adele post got so many literary references from you, Hazel?

This is mid-20th century poetry, some of which is very dark. I might have a copy of The Bell Jar (novel) somewhere, but I don't have a book of Sylvia Plath's poems.

Maria's picture

I'm thinking dark, gothic,

I'm thinking dark, gothic, romantic. So curious!

Hazel Smith's picture

Is this a vertiginous slide

Is this a vertiginous slide into depression in a taarnished world drained of colour and wrapped in mist? Perhaps the muffling grays of the mist contain those diamond bright water droplets that lift the grays from oblivion. They redeem the tawdriness of the inglorious landscape with crystalline brightness. Is Sivia going to give us beads in which to glory?

"o bent bow of thorns"
I can't help it. It reminds (among other things) of the worst line of poetry that Percy Bysshe Shelley ever wrote:
"I fall upon the thorns of life!-I bleed!". It's in
Ode To The West Wind. The rest of the poem is lovely.

Not a dark color

I don't think this will be a dark color. I think it will be something like milky white with hints of siilver- charcoal, blood red.
Strong but soft colors in that magical way these color ways come together.

Sorry no poetry!

Sarah JS's picture

Contrasts

Pop culture to powerful poet ... what is one to make a such clues?

Autumn, my favorite season. It invites the range of reflections from quieting down -- sometimes to death -- to a lying fallow that instead leads to newness and life.

As usual, I have absolutely no idea how this will all tie in to the colors, pattern, or designers!