I AM SO HAPPY TO BE WRITING ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE POETS AND AUTHORS SYLVIA PLATH. I FIRST WOULD LIKE TO SAY, HER BEAUTY AND WONDER MIXED WITH HER WORDS GAVE AN IMPACT IN POETRY HISTORY THAT STILLS HOLDS TODAY AS BEING ONE OF THE GREATEST POETIC ICONS OF ALL TIME. HER GRACE WITH WORDS MADE THE READER HUNGRY FOR MORE. HER WORDS BROUGHT STORIES, IMAGES AND MOST OF ALL PASSION TO THE READER THAT WAS READING.
FROM THE SMALLEST POEM TO THE GREATEST POEM, EACH ONE HAD A SOMEWHAT CLASS TO IT THAT BROUGHT A VISION OF WHAT A WORD HEAVEN WOULD BE.
TO SEE THE WONDERFUL AMAZING TALENT OF PLATH IS TO LOOK BEYOND THE SADNESS AND THE TORMENT OF HER LIFE AND READ HER AMAZING POETRY BOOKS. THE BOOK ARIEL WHICH IS HER SECOND POETRY BOOK IS TO ME HER DEFINING MASTERPIECE. THE POEMS INSIDE THIS BOOK BRING THE PASSION, POWER AND HEART ACHE OF STRUGGLE AND SADNESS AND THE STRENGTH TO SURVIVE TO DETAIL FOR THE READER. THE POEMS LIKE DADDY AND LADY LAZARUS AND TULIPS AND LESBOS ARE ALL AMAZING PIECES OF POETRY HISTORY. INTERESTING TO NOTE IS PLATH GOT A PULITZER PRIZE IN 1982 FOR THE COLLECTED POEMS. SHE WAS THE FIRST DEAD POET TO GET THIS HONOR.
YES MRS. PLATH WAS A POET BUT SHE ALSO WAS A WRITER OF A SEMI-AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL BOOK THE BELL JAR WHICH BASICALLY WAS ABOUT HER LIFE YET SHE DID NOT COME OUT AND SAY THAT TILL MUCH LATER, THE BOOK WAS WRITTEN UNDER A PSEUDONYM VICTORIA LUCAS.
SHE WAS BORN ON OCT. 27, 1932 IN JAMAICA PLAIN MASSACHUSETTS. TO SHOW HER POETRY BLOOD HER FIRST POEM WAS PUBLISHED WHEN SHE WAS AT THE YOUNG AGE OF 8 YEARS OLD. PLATH THROUGHOUT HER LIFE BECAME A SUICIDE JUNKIE IF YOU WISH TO CALL IT THAT. HER DEPRESSION AND OFTEN ODD BEHAVIOR LED HER TO TRY AND COMMIT SUICIDE MANY TIMES. IN HER JUNIOR YEAR SHE TRIED TO KILL HERSELF WITH AN OVERDOSE OF SLEEPING PILLS.
AFTER THIS ORDEAL SHE WAS PLACED IN A INSTITUTION AND WAS GIVEN ELECTRO SHOCK THERAPY. SHE SEEMED TO GET BETTER AND IN 1955 SHE GRADUATED WITH HONORS. THROUGHOUT HER COLLEGE SHE PUBLISHED MANY POEMS. ON JUNE 16 1956 SHE MARRIED THE ENGLISH POET TED HUGHES. SHE PUBLISHED HER FIRST COLLECTION OF POETRY THE COLOSSUS AFTER MOVING TO THE UNITED KINGDOM. SHE WOULD HAVE TWO CHILDREN WITH HUGHES AND ALSO SUFFERED ONE MISCARRIAGE WHICH IS APART OF HER LIFE THAT SHE REFLECTS UPON IN SOME OF HER POETRY. SADLY PLATH'S MARRIAGE TO HUGHES WAS MIXED WITH HIS AFFAIR TO ASSIA WEVILL AND THEY WENT THERE DIFFERENT WAYS IN 1962. THIS WOULD BRING ON HER DEEP DEPRESSION EVEN MORE. SADLY ON FEB. 11, 1963 SHE KILLED HERSELF BY STICKING HER HEAD INTO THE OVEN WHILE THE GAS WAS ON. THE STORY BEHIND HER DEATH HAS BECOME SOMEWHAT OF A MYSTERY AND ALSO AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY STORY. YOU SEE ASSIA WEVILL THE WOMAN THAT HUGHES CHEATED ON PLATH WITH ALSO WOULD KILL HERSELF ALMOST IN THE SAME MANNER. ON MARCH 23, 1969 SHE DRAGGED A MATTRESS INTO THE KITCHEN, LAID HER 4 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER ON THE MATTRESS, TURNED THE GAS ON, SHE CRUSHED UP SLEEPING PILLS AND MIXED IT IN WITH WHISKEY DRINKING IT AND FELL A SLEEP WITH HER DAUGHTER SHURA, BOTH DIED. IT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN FACT IF SHURA WAS HUGHES DAUGHTER YET HE BELIEVED SHE WAS. HUGHES USED WOMEN VERY EASY LIKE A THROWN AWAY NAPKIN. HE WOULD USE HIS INFIDELITY LIKE IT WAS DOCTOR PRESCRIBED MEDICINE.
TULIPS BY SYLVIA PLATH
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ----
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free ----
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I hve no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
MANY BELIEVE IT WAS THE BRAKE UP OF HUGHES THAT DESTROYED AND DROVE PLATH TO HER FINAL DEATH. HER DEEP DEPRESSION MIXED WITH LOOSING WHO SHE CONSIDERED HER SOUL MATE BROUGHT ON THAT DARKNESS ONCE AGAIN. UPON PLATH'S TOMBSTONE IT HAS TED HUGHES NAME IN BRONZE UPON IT, DUE TO THE FACT THAT MANY OF PLATH'S FANS AND LOVERS OF HER POETRY HAVE OFTEN CHISELED OUT HIS NAME IN THE STONE, SO THE CEMETERY REPLACED IT WITH BRONZE TO STOP THE VANDALISM.
TED HUGHES WOULD GO ON TO PUBLISH HIS WIFE'S JOURNALS. IN THE FORWARD OF THE 1982 HE MENTIONS THE REASON WHY HE DESTROYED THE LAST OF HER JOURNALS BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT THE CHILDREN TO HAVE TO READ IT. MORE OR LESS IT WAS ABOUT THE WINTER OF 1962 UP UNTIL HER DEATH WHICH WOULD HAVE CONTAINED A LOT OF THE TRUTH OF THE RELATIONSHIP AND ALSO UP UNTIL HER DEATH. MANY FANS OF PLATH BELIEVE TED HUGHES WAS A WIFE ABUSER WHICH THE JOURNAL MIGHT HAVE DETAILED.
THE CONTROVERSY AFTER HER DEATH WAS THAT TED HUGHES CONTROLLED HER ESTATE AND POETRY EVEN THOUGH IT WAS SAID SHE WAS GOING THROUGH WITH DIVORCE. THE BOOK ARIEL WAS PUBLISHED IN 1965 AFTER HER DEATH, THE POEMS WHERE SAID TO BE RE-ARRANGED IN A DIFFERENT MANNER THEN HOW SHE HAD THEM IT IS ALSO SAID POEMS WHERE TAKEN OUT. THE MAIN POEMS THAT PLATH WROTE AGAINST HUGHES OR CRITICIZED HUGHES WHERE OFTEN SAID TO BE DESTROYED SUCH AS THE SO CALLED JOURNAL AND ALSO OTHER POETRY SHE HAD WRITTEN. THE MERE FACT OF CENSORSHIP OF HER THOUGHTS MAKES ME SAD AND MOST OF ALL BITTER BECAUSE THAT GOES AGAINST EVERYTHING A POET STANDS FOR. IN WRITTEN WORD, YOU SPEAK THE TRUTH AND PUSH THE TRUTH NO MATTER HOW BAD OR HORRIBLE IT IS, IT STILL IS THE TRUTH, IT STILL IS ART AND APART OF HISTORY.
TO THIS DAY IT CAN BE SAID IT'S A BATTLE BETWEEN POET LOVERS, PLATH'S FOLLOWERS AND HUGHES FOLLOWERS OFTEN ARE BITTER AT EACH OTHER. I FOR ONE LIKE BOTH OF THEM AND TO ME IT'S SAD THAT TWO GREAT POETS ARE TAINTED WITH THE TORMENT AND TURMOIL OF THE HISTORY OF THEM. A LOT OF THE TIME BOTH OF THEM ARE LOOKED AT IN THE MYSTERY AND GOSSIP ANGLE AND THERE NOT LOOKED AT IN THE BEAUTY OF THERE WORDS AND AMAZING SKILL AT POETRY.
SYLVIA 2003
PLOT: THE MOVIE SHOWCASES THE ROMANCE BETWEEN SYLVIA AND TED HUGHES. IT SHOWCASES THERE FIRST MEETING AT CAMBRIDGE AND IN A SAD NOTE BUT A TRUTHFUL NOTE IT LEADS ALL THE WAY TO THE SUICIDE.
RUNTIME: 110 MINS.
RATED: R
STARRING: GWYNETH PALTROW AS SYLVIA PLATH, DANIEL CRAIG AS TED HUGHES, JARED HARRIS AS AL ALVAREZ, AMIRA CASAR AS ASSIA WEVILL.DIRECTOR: CHRISTINE JEFFS
RELEASE DATE: OCT. 17, 2007
MY REVIEW AND THOUGHTS:
FIRST OFF THE BEAUTY OF THE MOVIE IS WHAT SETS THE VIEWER THERE IN THAT TIME PERIOD. THE COSTUMES, CARS, STRUCTURES, ALL ADD THAT CLASSIC FEEL OF LONG AGO. GWYNETH PALTROW AND DANIEL GRAIG HAVE WONDERFUL CHEMISTRY TOGETHER. YOU BELIEVE THE ROLE AS YOU WATCH BOTH OF THEM TOGETHER. I THINK PALTROW BECOMES SYLVIA. SHE GRABS THE PART AND IT'S LIKE THE SOUL OF PLATH COMES FROM THE GRAVE AND ENTERS THE STAR TO GIVE HER THE KNOWLEDGE TO PLAY THE PART PERFECT. THE MOVIE SHOWCASES THE FIRST MEETING AND THE MASSIVE LOVE AFFAIR BETWEEN EACH OTHER. I THINK THE KEY POINT THE MOVIE PLAYS ON IS THE DEPRESSION THAT SYLVIA LIVED WITH. SHE WAS A WOMAN THAT HAD MANY DEMONS BATTLING INSIDE HER.
THE MOVIE IS AMAZINGLY FILMED WITH CINEMATOGRAPHY. IT HAS WONDERFUL BRIGHT COLORS AS THE AUTUMN LEAFS TURN AND THE SKY SEEMS TO BE DARK AND GREY. I THINK THAT IS A POINT THAT NEEDS TO BE PICKED UP ON. AT THE START YOU SEE THE GREAT SMILE ON SYLVIA AND THEN AS THE DEPRESSION COMES BACK THE ATMOSPHERE AND THE MOVIE TURNS TO A DEPRESSION TYPE SETTING. THE SKIES ARE GREY, THE CLOTHES SEEM TO BE DARK, THE BUILDINGS ARE DECAYED.
THE WINTER BLUES SET IN. THE MOVIE IS STYLED THAT WAY IN A SENSE OF AN ARTISTIC APPROACH OR MORE OR LESS LIVING POETRY. THERE IS A WONDERFUL POETIC MOMENT IN THE MOVIE. SYLVIA AND TED AND OTHERS ARE IN A ROOM READING POETRY. THE KEY IS TO SEE HOW FAST THE POETRY CAN BE READ. THE FEELINGS GIVEN TO THE PIECE. THIS MOMENT IS PERFECT FOR A POETRY BUFF IN SEEING THE PASSION AND SOUL GIVEN INTO THE PIECE THAT IS BEING READ. THAT PASSION SHOWN IN THIS PART EVEN THOUGH IT IS A MOVIE IS THE KIND OF INTENSE POETRY I LOVE. THE POETRY WHERE THE BODY WORKS WITH IT. THE ACTIONS AND THE EMBRACE OF EACH WORD IS THE KIND OF POETRY I MISS A LOT. THIS DAY AND AGE A LOT OF POETS TEND TO NOT WRITE FROM THE SOUL AND THAT IS SAD. SO MANY POETS WRITE FROM THE MIND AND TEXT BOOKS OR DICTIONARIES AND NOT THE HEART, THAT'S WHY, TRUE POETS, LOVERS OF WORDS ARE FEW THIS DAY AND AGE. SYLVIA WAS THAT KIND OF POET. SHE SPOKE FROM THE SOUL. SHE BECAME APART OF THE POETRY, SHE BLEED EACH WORD UPON THE PAPER FROM HER HEART AND SO DID MR. HUGHES.
THE MOVIE SHOWS THE STRUGGLE OF SUICIDE ATTEMPTS AND THE STRUGGLE TO BE THE GREAT POET THAT SHE WOULD BECOME. IT SEEMS THAT HER LIFE WAS AT A STAND STILL AFTER HER FATHER DIED. THE BITTERNESS OR THE ANGER OR DEPRESSION GOT HOLD OF HER. I ENJOY HOW THE MOVIE SHOWCASES THE STRUGGLE OF SYLVIA BECOMING HER OWN PERSON WHERE EVERYBODY AROUND HER SEEMED TO NOT PAY HER ATTENTION AS A POET AND SADLY IT WOULD TAKE HER DEATH BEFORE SHE BECAME WHO SHE WAS AN ICONIC POET. I HAVE OFTEN STATED THAT IT'S SAD AN ARTIST HAS TO BE DEAD BEFORE REALLY ANYBODY NOTICES THEM OR GIVES THEM GREAT PRAISE. I WISH WE WOULD STOP THAT THINKING AND ENJOY THE ARTIST WHILE THEY ARE ALIVE WITH US.
I THINK WHY SYLVIA IS SUCH A WONDERFUL PERSON IS THAT SHE STRUGGLED TO BE ABLE TO WRITE HER WORDS ON PAPER. SHE WAS A WIFE, A MOTHER, SOMEONE WHO TOOK CARE OF THE HOUSE HOLD, FROM DINNER, LAUNDRY AND CHILD CARE AND NEVER REALLY SEEMED TO HAVE THE TIME SHE WISHED TO FOR POETRY. SHE SEEMED TO NEVER HAVE THE TIME TO WRITE THE BEAUTY THAT WANTED TO COME OUT. THE MOVIE SHOWCASES THE PARANOIA OR GREAT JEALOUSY GROWING INSIDE SYLVIA AS SHE WOULD WATCH TED FLIRT WITH OTHER WOMAN OR GO TO THE EXTREMES IN TALKING OR HELPING OTHER WOMEN.
THERE IS A SHOT IN THE MOVIE WHERE TED AND SYLVIA HAVE THERE FRIENDS THE ONES RENTING THERE APARTMENT DAVID AND ASSIA FOR THE WEEKEND. ASSIA WOULD BE THE ONE MR. HUGHES HAS AN AFFAIR WITH THAT WOULD DESTROY THE RELATIONSHIP ALTHOUGH THAT STATEMENT IS A LITTLE OVER THE TOP BECAUSE I FEEL IN A PERSONAL VIEW POINT THAT THE RELATIONSHIP WAS DOOMED FROM THE START. THIS MOMENT IS POWERFUL BECAUSE YOU SEE THE SPARK OF JEALOUSY OR KNOWING THE TRUTH OF HER HUSBAND PAYING A LITTLE TO MUCH ATTENTION TO MRS. ASSIA. DAVID ASKS SYLVIA IF SHE HAS FOUND ANYTIME TO WRITE WITH BEING A MOTHER AND ALL. SYLVIA MAKES THE REMARK OH TED DOES THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS RIGHT, HE IS THE GOOD POET.
ONE THING THE MOVIE SHOWS IS HOW SYLVIA WOULD GET BACK AT TED, BY RIPPING OR BURNING UP HIS WORK. HE WOULD RIP HER HEART OUT BY SLEEPING AROUND AND SO SHE COULD RIP HIS HEART OUT BY RIPPING UP HIS POETRY. THE SOUNDTRACK TO THE MOVIE IS FLAWLESS, AT TIMES THE MUSIC SCORE IS VERY HAUNTING. YOU GET SYLVIA PLATH'S LIFE, THE UPS AND THE DOWNS, THE MOVIE SHOWCASES THE STAR THAT WOULD BE BORN.
THE MOVIE DOES NOT FEATURE EVERYTHING OF SYLVIA'S LIFE THAT WOULD TAKE A TRILOGY OF MOVIES TO SHOWCASE IT. WHAT THIS MOVIE DOES IS CAPTURE THE MOMENTS THAT TELL THE STORY IN COMPLETE DETAIL OF THE DEPRESSION AND THE STRUGGLE TO BE AN AMAZING POET. THIS MOVIE WORKS IN SO MANY WAYS. I LOVED IT.
PRAISE AND AWARDS:
WON THE 2005 AWARD FOR AWARD OF DISTINCTION AT THE AUSTRALIAN CINEMATOGRAPHERS SOCIETY.
THE WONDERFUL THING IS WE HAVE PLATH'S POETRY TO SHOWCASE HER AMAZING TALENT TO THE WRITTEN WORD. THE WORDS THAT SHOWCASED THE BEAUTY OF HER HEART AND SOUL OF WHAT SHE WANTED TO SAY. IT WAS ULTIMATELY HER LIFE STRUGGLES THAT DEVELOPED HER GREATEST POETRY. FROM HER SUICIDAL TENDENCIES TO HER DEEP DARK DEPRESSION, TO BEING A MOTHER, TO HAVING A MISCARRIAGE, TO HER HUSBAND WHO CHEATED ON HER, ALL HER RAGE AND ANGER AND BITTERNESS AND SADNESS WOULD WRAP THEMSELVES INTO HER POETRY.
I THINK THE SADDEST NOTION TO SYLVIA PLATH IS, IS THAT SHE WAS SICK. SHE HAD THE DEPRESSION BAD, AND DEEP AND IT CONTROLLED HER LIFE SADLY. SHE NEEDED PROFESSIONAL HELP WHICH SHE DID SEEK OUT OFTEN BUT NOT OFTEN ENOUGH. I DO BELIEVE THAT IF SHE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN HELP, SHE MIGHT HAVE LIVED A LONG LIFE. SYLVIA PLATH GAVE IT HER ALL. IN GIVING IT ALL, IT WAS LIKE IT NEVER WAS ENOUGH.
I THINK WHAT THE WEIRDEST REALITY TO THE SITUATION IS, IT WAS THE HEARTACHE, THE DEPRESSION, THE AFFAIRS INSIDE THE RELATIONSHIP, THE TORMENT THAT REALLY GAVE SYLVIA HER VOICE. THESE HARD TIMES IN LIFE MADE HER OPEN UP HER BEAUTY OF WORDS AND LET THEM SPREAD, IN COMPLETE POETRY AS TRUE ART. SHE PUT ALL THE DISTURBING REALITIES INTO HER POETRY AND GAVE HER DEPRESSION AND PAIN A VOICE. SHE LET IT FLOW FROM HER SOUL, SHE LET IT FLOW FROM HER HEART WHICH WAS STAINED WITH THE DARKNESS AND THE DEPRESSION OF HER THOUGHTS. HER POETRY WAS OF WHO SHE WAS. IT WAS ALL THAT HEARTACHE FROM HER FATHERS DEATH TO THE REALITY OF TED HUGHES, THAT IS WHAT MADE HER BECOME THE GREAT POET SHE WAS AND STILL IS. IT WAS HER TEARS THAT WAS THE INK TO THE PEN. IT WAS THE TEARS THAT GUIDED HER FINGERS UPON THE TYPEWRITER. HER TEARS BECAME HER POETRY. HER POETRY BECAME HER TEARS.
I THINK SYLVIA PLATH LOVED HUGHES MORE THEN ANYTHING. THE BREAK UP OF HUGHES JUST ADDED TO THE DEEP DEPRESSION THAT HAD ALREADY BECAME A STABLE IN HER LIFE. THE READER READING PLATH'S POEMS COULD FEEL HER, UNDERSTAND HER, YOU BECOME APART OF HER AS YOU SCAN AND READ EACH WORD. HER POETRY IS ALIVE WHEN YOU READ IT. THAT'S WHAT MAKES SYLVIA PLATH'S POETRY STAND OUT. HER LIFE, HER HEART, HER SOUL, HER THOUGHTS ARE ALL CAPTURED IN HER POEMS.
SYLVIA PLATH WAS BEAUTIFUL, A GENIUS, A CREATIVE MIND, A MYSTERY, SHE HELD EVERYTHING THAT A POET COULD THINK OF INSIDE THE GENIUS OF HER MIND. SHE GAVE US MANY POEMS AND HER LEGEND INSIDE THE WORLD OF LITERATURE WILL ALWAYS REMAIN. I THINK THE MOST INTERESTING THING ABOUT TED HUGHES AND SYLVIA PLATH IS THEY BOTH SUFFERED FROM DEMONS, BOTH OF THEM HAD THERE WRONGS AND BOTH OF THEM HAD THERE RIGHTS. JUST LIKE ALL OF US HAVE DEMONS WE FIGHT, SOME DEMONS ARE GREATER AND SOME DEMONS ARE LESSER. I DO BELIEVE TED HUGHES AND SYLVIA PLATH WHERE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER, FOR BOTH OF THEM WHERE DEEP WITH SOME SORT OF MONKEY ON THERE BACKS, NOT THE MONKEY OF DRUGS BUT THE MONKEY OF WANTING LOVE AND SOMETIMES THE ASPECT OF WANTING LOVE CAN BE TWISTED INTO DESIRE AND LUST AND JEALOUSY AND HEARTACHE. I BELIEVE SYLVIA PLATH LOVED TED HUGHES, I BELIEVE TED HUGHES LOVED SYLVIA PLATH EVEN THOUGH BOTH OF THEM WHERE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER, IT'S THAT WHOLE CONCEPT OF ROMEO AND JULIET, THAT THEY COULD NEVER BE TOGETHER BECAUSE THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING IN THE WAY.
ALWAYS SOMETHING PUSHING THEM AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. TO ME THAT IS WHY THE RELATIONSHIP AND THE REALITY OF SYLVIA PLATH AND TED HUGHES IS POETRY. THERE LIFE STORIES, THERE LIFE'S ACTIONS IS WHAT POETRY IS, THE UPS AND THE DOWNS OF POETRY.
