Download Policy: Content on the Website is provided to you AS IS for your information and personal use and may not be sold / licensed / shared on other websites without getting consent from its author.While downloading, if for some reason you are not able to download a presentation, the publisher may have deleted the file from their server.
Sylvia Plath’s poems
I'm a riddle in nine syllables. An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf's big with its yeasty rising. Money's new-minted in this fat purse. I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf. I've eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there's no getting off.
Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue. In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls. I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear. One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown. Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.Morning Song
5. Stanza 3: What is the speaker saying about her role in the child’s life?
6. Diction: comment on the effect of the compound words, e.g “moth-breath” (stanza 4) and “cow-heavy” in stanza 5. How do these two images create a contrast?
7. Imagery: what connections can you make between the words and images Plath has chosen for the poem?
8. Ending: how does the poem’s end link back to the title? How would you describe the tone of the last lines?
9. Overall message / theme: what does this poem suggest about the poet’s attitude to motherhood? Identify her attitudes / feelings, giving evidence from the poem.
Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.They come through you but not from you,And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your childrenas living arrows are sent forth.The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.Tangent: “I’m no more your mother than…”On ChildrenKahlil Gibran
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,Gilled like a fish. A common-senseThumbs-down on the dodo's mode.Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,Trawling your dark as owls do.Mute as a turnip from the FourthOf July to All Fool's Day,O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.Farther off than Australia.Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.Snug as a bud and at homeLike a sprat in a pickle jug.A creel of eels, all ripples.Jumpy as a Mexican bean.Right, like a well-done sum.A clean slate, with your own face on.You’re
“Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,Gilled like a fish.”
“Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,Trawling your dark as owls do.
Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.”
Consider the following aspects
You could do this in a chart / double-bubble