#Poem by Ariel

[asoftepiloguemylove]

AND I'LL NEVER GO HOME AGAIN // YOUR CHILDHOOD HOME AND THE PAST INSIDE OF IT

Maya Angelou // @filmnoirsbian // BoJack Horseman (2014-2020) from The Old Sugarman Place dir. Anne Walker Farrell // Tennessee Williams The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore // Anne Sexton A Story For Rose On The Midnight Flight To Boston // Noah Kahan Paul Revere // pinterest // The Woman in Black (2012) dir. James Watkins // Ariel Gore We Were Witches // Katherine Fabrizio A Poem From the Good Daughter to the Difficult Mother // Marble Hornets cr. Troy Wagner // AroarA #6

[namedvesta]

“O my enemy. Do I terrify?”

— Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus”, from Ariel (𝟣𝟫𝟨𝟧)

[lovingsylvia]

"Now I am silent, hate Up to my neck, Thick, thick. I do not speak."

Sylvia Plath, from "Lesbos", 18 October 1962

[memoryaqua]

Only with a blue wave Will Lady Liberty be saved This November take the dive Stop Project 2025

The attempt at poetry is by yours truly.

I hope to draw an original piece featuring this diddy.

[popfatal]

“I am too pure for you or anyone.” ― Sylvia Plath, from “The Collected Poems” (1981)

[berattelse]

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

Plath, Sylvia. "The Rival". Ariel. Harper and Row, 1965.

[crystlmeth]

the real esther greenwood

[uwmspeccoll]

It's Fine Press Friday!

We end the work week with this slim volume of number 12 in The Ariel Poems series, Troy by the Italian-born British poet Humbert Wolfe with illustrations by British artist Charles Ricketts, printed in London by the Curwen Press for Faber & Gwyer in 1928. It is a large paper edition printed on English hand-made paper in an edition of 500 copies singed by the poet. The Ariel Poems were a series of illustrated pamphlets containing poems published by Faber and Gwyer and after 1929 by Faber and Faber. The first series had 38 titles published between 1927 and 1931. The second series, published in 1954, had 8 titles.

View other posts from the Ariel Poems series.

View more posts with work by Charles Ricketts.

View more posts with books printed by the Curwen Press.

View more Fine Press Friday Posts.

[robcam-wfu]

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.  

— Sylvia Plath, from "Elm"

[sylviaplathink]

via @LMFB9 on Twitter

Sylvia Plath's novel The Bell Jar meets her poem "Poppies in July"

...

POPPIES IN JULY Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns. And it exhausts me to watch you Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth. A mouth just bloodied. Little bloody skirts! There are fumes that I cannot touch. Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules? If I could bleed, or sleep!– If my mouth could marry a hurt like that! Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule, Dulling and stilling. But colorless. Colorless.

—Sylvia Plath, written 20 July 1962, in Ariel, 1965

[laurelroadpoetry]

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"How many poems does a guy have to write / to get abducted by aliens? I know you / see me, same as the fat moon peeping / through the trees like a pervert. I just / want to talk."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[6peaches]

Ariel Francisco - Seeing a UFO and Singing Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon” into the Night at the Top of My Lungs

How many poems does a guy have to write to get abducted by aliens? I know you see me, same as the fat moon peeping through the trees like a pervert. I just want to talk. My arms are sore from waving. My dad used to wonder why I was always so fascinated with space, then learned I share a birthday with Yuri Gagarin and that explained everything. I would watch that shit show Ancient Aliens with my mom and she would say, you know in Guate we remember where the Mayas came from, raising her eyebrows into orbit. How could I not grow up to search the skies for meaning? Ancient peoples thought objects soaring through the atmosphere were celestial serpents, their glowing tails slithering through space, and I buy it. Oh, Quetzalcoatl, is that you? I feel like the last kid sitting in front of  the school waiting to be picked up. Don’t say you’ve forgotten me.

[lovingsylvia]

“The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year“

Sylvia Plath, from "Daddy" , 12 October 1962

[randomrichards]

TRAP:

A pop star concert

Serve as stakeout of killer

Dad seeks a way out

[beanutputterrrr]

This lovely lady...