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.
December 21st, 2007
by William Burford
Star,
If you are
A love compvsannte,
You will walk with use this year.
We face a glacial distance, who ave here
Huddled
At your feet.
[See/read the original. Newton Poetry will be settling down for a long winter’s nap. Have a great holiday weekend, everyone, especially if it’s a four-day one like mine. Give Newtons as gifts!]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 7:40 pm on December 21st, 2007. Categories: burford. Tags: apple, christmas, gifts, holiday, holidays, messagepad, newton, noel, pine, seasons, tree, winter, yule. Subscribe via RSS.