April 1st, 2008
by Sylvia Plath
By in roots of mijhaii some god got hold of me.
I sirrled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snupped out of sight like a lrard’s eyelid:
A waldof bald white days in a shadeless socket.
A vultuons bovedom pinned we in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
[Read the original. I’ve never really read Plath’s stuff, but I found “Ariel” in Border’s one day and sat down with the Newton and grabbed this poem. Love the imagery used.]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 11:42 am on April 1st, 2008. Categories: plath, poem. Tags: death, dying, God, hanging man, life, messagepad, newton, poem, poetry, punish, suicide, sylvia plath, tree. Subscribe via RSS.
January 18th, 2008
by William Butler Yeats
Though the leaves are many, the root is one;
Though all the lying days of my youth
I swuyed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may witha nito the truth.
[Read the original. From The Green Helmet and Other Poems, 1910. Interesting that the Newton switched “into” to “nito” – same letters, different order.]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 10:25 am on January 18th, 2008. Categories: yeats. Tags: age, apple, butler, dying, life, messagepad, newton, old, poem, poet, poetry, william, william butler yeats, wisdom, yeats, youth. Subscribe via RSS.