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 Sylvia Plath's Profile |
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| Age: | 75 years old |
| Sex: | Female |
| Location: | London, |
| Country: |  United Kingdom |
| BodyType: | Slim / Slender |
| Zodiac: |  Scorpio (Oct 23 - Nov 21) |
| Last Login: | Jul 2, 2008 (50 days back) |
| I am Here For Friends and Networking. | |
About Me |
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Born to middle class parents in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts, Sylvia Plath published her first poem when she was eight. Sensitive, intelligent, compelled toward perfection in everything she attempted, she was, on the surface, a model daughter, popular in school, earning straight A's, winning the best prizes. By the time she entered Smith College on a scholarship in 1950 she already had an impressive list of publications, and while at Smith she wrote over four hundred poems. Sylvia's surface perfection was however underlain by grave personal discontinuities, some of which doubtless had their origin in the death of her father (he was a college professor and an expert on bees) when she was eight. During the summer following her junior year at Smith, having returned from a stay in New York City where she had been a student ....guest editor'' at Mademoiselle Magazine, Sylvia nearly succeeded in killing herself by swallowing sleeping pills. She later described this experience in an autobiographical novel, The Bell Jar, published in 1963. After a period of recovery involving electroshock and psychotherapy Sylvia resumed her pursuit of academic and literary success, graduating from Smith summa cum laude in 1955 and winning a Fulbright scholarship to study at Cambridge, England. In 1956 she married the English poet Ted Hughes , and in 1960, when she was 28, her first book, The Colossus, was published in England. The poems in this book formally precise, well wrought show clearly the dedication with which Sylvia had served her apprenticeship; yet they give only glimpses of what was to come in the poems she would begin writing early in 1961. She and Ted Hughes settled for a while in an English country village in Devon, but less than two years after the birth of their first child the marriage broke apart. The winter of 1962-63, one of the coldest in centuries, found Sylvia living in a small London flat, now with two children, ill with flu and low on money. The hardness of her life seemed to increase her need to write, and she often worked between four and eight in the morning, before the children woke, sometimes finishing a poem a day. In these last poems it is as if some deeper, powerful self has grabbed control; death is given a cruel physical allure and psychic pain becomes almost tactile. On February 11, 1963, Sylvia Plath killed herself with cooking gas at the age of 30. Two years later Ariel, a collection of some of her last poems, was published; this was followed by Crossing the Water and Winter Trees in 1971, and, in 1981, The Collected Poems appeared, edited by Ted Hughes. I edited my profile with Thomas' Myspace Editor V4.4 |
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My Interests |
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| Sex, Ted, poetry and prose .. width="425" height="350" .. .. width="425" height="350" .. .. width="425" height="350" .. .. width="425" height="350" .. .. width="425" height="350" .. |
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I'd like to meet:"I talk to God but the sky is empty". |
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Heroes:Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell |
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My Background and Lifestyle |
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| MaritalStatus: | Divorced |
| Ethnicity: | White / Caucasian |
| SexualOrientation: | Straight |
| Hometown: | Massachusetts |
| Children: | Proud parent |
| Education: | College graduate |
| Occupation: | Poet/Writer |
My Pictures |
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My Blog |
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By Candlelight |
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| This is winter, this is night, small love ---A sort of black horsehair,A rough, dumb country stuffSteeled with the sheenOf what green stars can make it to our gate.I hold you in my arm.It is very late... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Thu, 15 Mar 2007 02:08:00 PST |
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Insomniac |
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| The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --- A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things. Under the... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Wed, 17 Jan 2007 06:21:00 PST |
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Alicante Lullaby |
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| In Alicante they bowl the barrelsBumblingly over the nubs of the cobblesPast the yellow-paella eateries,Below the ramshackle back-alley balconies,While the cocks and hensIn the roofgardensScuttle repo... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Mon, 01 Jan 2007 01:33:00 PST |
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A letter to a Purist |
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| That grandiose colossus whoStood astrideThe envious assaults of sea(Essaying, wave by wave,Tide by tide,To undo him, perpetually),Has nothing on you,O my love,O my great idiot, whoWith one footCaught ... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Mon, 01 Jan 2007 01:32:00 PST |
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Sonnet to Satan |
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| In darkroom of your eye the moonly mindsomeraults to couterfeit eclipse;bright angels black out over logic's landunder shutter of their handicaps.
Commanding that corkscrew comet jet forth inkto pitc... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Sun, 24 Dec 2006 02:38:00 PST |
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Lament |
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| A Villanelle
The sting of bees took away my fatherwho walked in a swarming shroud of wingsand scorned the tick of the falling weather.
Lightning licked in a yellow latherbut missed the mark with sna... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Sun, 24 Dec 2006 02:37:00 PST |
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Doomsday |
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| The idiot bird leaps out and drunken leansAtop the broken universal clock:The hour is crowed in lunatic thirteens.Out painted stages fall apart by scenesWhile all the actors halt in mortal shock:The i... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Sun, 24 Dec 2006 02:34:00 PST |
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Elm |
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| I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there. Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothi... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Tue, 19 Dec 2006 12:10:00 PST |
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The Moon and the Yew Tree |
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| This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God Prickling my ankles and murmuring of t... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Tue, 19 Dec 2006 10:59:00 PST |
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Words |
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| Axes After whose stroke the wood rings, And the echoes! Echoes traveling Off from the center like horses. The sap Wells like tears, like the Water striving To re-establish its mirror Over the rock Tha... Posted by Sylvia Plath on Tue, 19 Dec 2006 10:57:00 PST |
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My Friends |
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Sweetness, Elysium Artspace, Anne Sexton, Albert Camus, Jack Kerouac, Simone de Beauvoir, Emily DICKINSON, Sartre, Franz Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe, George Orwell, Raymond Carver, T.S. Eliot, Marcel Proust, James Joyce, John Milton, W.H.Auden Poems, Allen Ginsberg, Arvo Part, Lord Byron, a poet instead, P.B. Shelley, William Shakespeare, Thomas Paine, H.P. Lovecraft, Mark Rothko, Noam, Einstein, Readymade, PYTHAGORAS, Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky, Arcimboldo, aural poetry, Poetry by Quillan, Dead Poets Society 2008, Gatsby Books & Ephemera, Peter Schmideg, kate, lolly, ateliér d’arte sacra, Tommy Thuresson poet, Mr. O, ~*Tara*~, she's not there, Laura, alec, NATASA, Renata Emther, Kev, My Poetry Department, KOTTEN, Juan Carlos, ~*♥*~ Auntie Paparazzi ~*♥*~, LouistheSeer, Michel Gauthier, kopioma, Georges Delerue, WH DAVIES, nixspixs, Pete, silvia Arinci, Mike, a$hphetamine., sandropedicini, the SPANISH GYPSEE, Emma Thompson's Tea Room, Josephine - tale peddler at your humble service, all the sad young men, fa, OFFICIAL ALONYS•ART MYSPACE...., Grimilde, Radek with moustache, Saint Øliver, Blade_Runner is The Best Movie Ever!
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Tags |
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Sylvia Plath's profile has been tagged with the following keywords. Click a tag to search for profiles with the same tags. jamaica plain massachusetts, poet ted hughes, middle class parents, fulbright scholarship, summa cum laude, english poet, autobiographical novel, mademoiselle magazine, sylvia plath, cambridge england, ted hughes, sleeping pills, literary success, bell jar, electroshock, discontinuities, college professor, smith college, list of publications, colossus |
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