Sylvia Plath married Ted Hughes in 1956. They had two children together: Frieda and Nicholas. They moved to London in 1959 after she became pregnant again. Published in 1960 "Love Letter" was written as late as 1958, considering the amount of time it takes to publish a book. Therefore, it was written during previous pregnancy, before moving to England. Plath suffered a miscarriage in 1961. Separating from her husband in 1962, in 1963 she committed suicide.
She had a difficult life: lost her foot to diabetes when she was eight years old and attempted suicide in college. Her books and poems revolve around thoughts of suicide, yet "Love Letter" implies a reason to live with reflections on marriage and giving birth. This aspect is present in the lines, "Now I resemble a sort of god;" and "It's a gift."
The beginning of the poem attributes hope and love to her husband. Her esoteric nature leans towards despondent paranoia of people and the world. Depression often produces anxiety and pessimistic thoughts towards all events, including, marriage. She was married and beginning a new life without her, "small bald eye skyward again, without hope."
Several passages mention depression. One prominent passage is an internal and external metaphor, "I slept, say: a snake masked among black rocks as a black rock in the white hiatus of winter." Metaphorically, white represents purity. This purity of love accentuates the presence of darkness. Some might want to think the snake is her husband; however, those suffering depression frequently question perceptions.
While there were signs Hughes was cheating on her, in London, he was probably faithful at this time. The poem lacks a direct reference to his mistress. Therefore, the snake refers to a premonition of inadequacy, believing she will be responsible for eventual divorce or fears he will realize she is unworthy of affection. An additional fear portrays husband and potential children as factors which will eventually end her life.
As the axiom claims, "Love conquers all," this poem gives credit to love as subduing an inescapable enemy that is ones own self. The expression is narcissistic, yet thoughts of marriage and family raise her spirits when she turns to a, "pane of ice." The truly mocking nature of the poem is revealed as an ongoing struggle between recognizing encouragement and self-loathing. Everything will not be, "okay."
Sylvia Plath is a mean-spirited and overly exposed contemporary poet. Though people think Ted Hughes was abusive; a compounded impression after his girlfriend Assia Wevill committed suicide in 1969, I believe Hughes was attracted to irresponsible bitter hearts who feel sensitive when wallowing in their own pain. Love loses to the person who spends their time with misery.
Quirky Books
100 Best Love Poems of All Time by Leslie Pockell
The Zen Path through Depression by Philip Martin
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Showing posts with label sad poetry by famous poets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad poetry by famous poets. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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