27Jul2010
In : Poems
Author : Frédérick
Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, thier balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.
Tilting with the winds,
On arrowy stems,
Pineapple-barked,
A green crescent of palms
Sends up its forked
Firework of fronds.
A quartz-clear dawn
Inch by bright inch
Gilds all our Avenue,
And out of the blue drench
Of Angels’ Bay
Rises the round red watermelon sun.



– Southern Sunrise by Sylvia Plath
Related posts:
- Poem of the day – Child by Sylvia Plath Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.I want to fill it with color and ducks,The zoo of the newWhose name you meditate –April snowdrop, Indian pipe,Little Stalk without wrinkle,Pool in which imagesShould be grand and classical Not this troublousWringing of hands, this darkCeiling without a star. – Child by Sylvia Plath...
- Poem of the day – By Candlelight by Sylvia Plath 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 on my arm.It is very late.The dull bells tongue the hour.The mirror floats us at one candle power. This is the fluid in which [...]...
- Poem of the day – Sleep in the Mojave Desert by Sylvia Plath Out here there are no hearthstones,Hot grains, simply. It is dry, dry.And the air dangerous. Noonday acts queerlyOn the mind’s eye erecting a lineOf poplars in the middle distance, the onlyObject beside the mad, straight roadOne can remember men and houses by.A cool wind should inhabit these leavesAnd a dew collect on them, dearer than [...]...
- Poem of the day – On Looking Into The Eyes Of A Demon Lover by Sylvia Plath Here are two pupilswhose moons of blacktransform to cripplesall who look: each lovely ladywho peers insidetake on the bodyof a toad. Within these mirrorsthe world inverts:the fond admirer’sburning darts turn back to injurethe thrusting handand inflame to dangerthe scarlet wound. I sought my imagein the scorching glass,for what fire could damagea witch’s face? So I [...]...
- Poem of the day – Mirror by Sylvia Plath I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.Whatever I see I swallow immediatelyJust as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.I am not cruel, only truthful ‚The eye of a little god, four-cornered.Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so longI think [...]...
Ajouter un commentaire