Sylvia

a story about a daughter and how she picked up a pen

(they didn’t have a son

but had a daughter twelve years later.

they raised her like a canna for a few,

then ditched the project altogether.)

the borrowed t-shirt was always short of money,

angry when her pocket was empty.

heard her phone bill was due

and all the pets were hungry.

Cybele couldn’t pay the rent on time.

the red hair dye had no voice. 

she had no right, either.

the extra pillow had a place to be,

and couldn’t afford a ride.

Abbott drove her up there with the child,

and dropped one of them off on the way.

(the child knew something.

was still wrong about a thing 

but knew a grand something, 

and kept it to herself.

the poor child broke something.

was very wrong about a thing

but still broke a pulsating thing

when she spoke the truth.)

the red hair straightener spoke the way Abbott does,

they say unspeakable things, Cybele said.

The child saw a couple of poems written back and forth, too,

Shakespeare wannabe, she said.

Abbott is fancy, too, or whatever you’d call it

but nothing like the mad daughter.

(in her backpack was a half-used notebook

in her lunchbox was a half-eaten cookie

in her head was a half-assed promise on repeat

on her was a weight)

a war in plain sight,

she swore.

a Plath in training,

she wrote.

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

had to read a couple times ..eloquent in its colloquiel language (not too fancy i hope;) /// my dog Bella just scratched door to be let back in the bedroom ... i got up to open it for her and she just looked at me like i am some kind of idiot ... its about 4 am here we both get up early..she goes back to bed but i don't... of course that has nothing to do with your poem ..i thought you might get a kick of it tho :)))
an abandoned child...from a home with little money ... disinterested parents to say the very least .. heartbreaking ...all too common on many levels and to various degrees ..i like your poem ... its an important voice always ..and this particular young child could not have a better hero than Ms. Plath .. her anger palpable and righteous ... well done redalia .. glad i did not miss this one
E.

[redalia]

thank you! your dog must be a sweet little thing, checking on what you're up to.
thank you again for taking the time to read my work, i really appreciate it

[Einstein Noodle]

well..i sure think she is ;)

[Jason Baptiste]

Greetings Redalia what an original perspective I am blown away and deeply touched by such a captivating writing not so easily absorbed which makes it even more beautiful for me That's creative mastery Adorable truly great.

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

Sylvia Plath in training eh, this was a most compelling, interesting poem, great rhyming n tells a story very nicely, real life touches which is what is most appealing to me. Kudos.

So nice to read from u again, Pleez do review my latest poem too, on suicide, Wud like your thoughts on it.

[redalia]

thank you so much!
will check out your work x

[Chris]

Which side of our truths do WE live on - and on which days?

This was a thought-full piece for me to pause with while having a cup of coffee nearby to chill.

[redalia]

thank you for reading!

[Chris]

Thank YOU for having it here...

[ashkat]

my god i f***ing love this. Sorry not to be more eloquent.
I absolutely had to read it out loud - i wanted to hear the rhythms and they were so surprising.
They were so flexible too... i love it when poetry can be read in so many different patterns, different emphases leading to different emotional responses.
One thing is for sure too: the "half" completed items, becoming the "half assed promise on repeat"...
Gosh - there's something so ...simmering in that description. A spikiness. An irritation.
I loved the complexity of the narration too; it felt like being able to hear a number of people's thoughts, to be able to check in and out, interspersed with out loud dialogue.

(see - I'm never disappointed when I read your stuff!)

[ashkat]

(and that's all without even commenting on the ode (is that the right word??) to the origin, the legend of Sylvia Plath... I might not be interpreting any of this as intended, but I most certainly loved it)

[redalia]

i'm really happy you enjoyed the poem! from what i can tell so far, you pay attention to the things i tend to pay attention to the most, it's interesting to me! thank you for your input, it always means a lot.
i have to admit, i've had a bad case of writers-block for the longest time, and your comment helped me to push myself more to write. i'm very thankful for that too.
and since you mentioned Sylvia Plath, i might as well give you a tidbit of info: the poem is actually kind of personal, about how i got into writing. i wouldn't dare compare myself to her but when i first began, the subject matter of my writing, the intensity of emotion kind of resembled hers (i've just recently realized this, i didn't even know Plath at the time). i even used nazi/war metaphors! also, given Plath's history with her family.. it just fit together, you know.

[ashkat]

100%. I'm so pleased you found your mojo. Writing is tidal... .. It ebbs and flows. We have times of fertile land, we have times of needing to sow seeds. We have times of writing whole truths and times of reflection... Never stop though xx