|Hope of a Condemned Man II by Joan Miro|
No use, no use, now, begging Recognize!
There is nothing to do with such a beautiful blank but smooth it.
Name, house, car keys,
The little toy wife—
Erased, sigh, sigh.
Four babies and a cocker!
Nurses the size of worms and a minute doctor
Tuck him in.
Peel from his skin.
Down the drain with all of it!
Hugging his pillow
Like the red-headed sister he never dared to touch,
He dreams of a new one—
Barren, the lot are barren!
And of another color.
How they'll travel, travel, travel, scenery
Sparking off their brother-sister rears
A comet tail!
And money the sperm fluid of it all.
One nurse brings in
A green drink, one a blue.
They rise on either side of him like stars.
The two drinks flame and foam.
O sister, mother, wife,
Sweet Lethe is my life.
I am never, never, never coming home!
Plath, S. (2004). Ariel: The restored edition. New York: HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.
Good day, poets! I hope you all are doing fine in your different parts of the world. I have been thinking about the condition of the world that we live in and where we are headed. In that context, reading Sylvia Plath doesn't provide a very hopeful image. But I go back to Ariel when everything stops making sense and I find my individuality embellished in the collective. Which are the poetry collections/poems/poets that you find yourself reading over and over again, especially when nothing else seems to work?
This is Anmol (alias HA) and I welcome you all to the Tuesday Platform at this Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. As many of you would know, it's an open link platform, which means that you can add a link to one poem, old or new, in the linking widget down below. After adding your link, do not forget to visit others' posts and share your words/comments with them. It's always been a pleasure hosting at this platform and reading your inspiring work.
I will see you all on the trail and I wish you a great week ahead.