#The Collected Poems

[daweyt]

Wallace Stevens, from “The Collected Poems; ‘Sunday Morning,’” published c. 1954.

[majestativa]

The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.

— Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems, (1981)

[dk-thrive]

I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.

— Sylvia Plath, from "Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices" in "The Collected Poems (Harper Perennial; November 15, 2016) (via Thoughts)

[sylviaplathink]

Via @annenoodle on Twitter

...

MAD GIRL’S LOVE SONG

A Villanelle

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan’s men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I fancied you’d return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

–Sylvia Plath, written 1954, in: The Collected Poems, 1981

[lxvenderghost]

౨ৎ hi from the most annoying person u know ✩₊

[bitemeszn]

Sylvia Plath, Winter Landscapes, with Rooks from The Collected Poems

[roselynvictoria]

Each day demands we create our whole world over, disguising the constant horror in a coat of many-colored fictions; we mask out past in the green of Eden, pretend future's shining fruit can sprout from the navel of this present waste.

― Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems

[anotherformofescapism]

A well spent day: Platters, books, friends, puzzles and art

🎵• All this time -by Louis Tomlinson.

[embeccy]

"Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, the world's heart breaks beneath its wars,"

- Sara Teasdale

[imdorogaya]

"Eighteen Days Without You"

Catch me. I'm your disease.

[knatantfreeze]

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝.

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠,

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞

𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲.

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞

𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧,

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬,

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝,

𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙨

𝙨𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚

𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘽𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙈𝙖g𝙚𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙬.

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲."

[chouuchou]

I fancied you’d return the way you said,

But I grow old and I forget your name.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.

–Sylvia Plath, written 1954, The Collected Poems, 1981

[majestativa]

In his eye's darkroom I can see my X-rayed heart, dissected body: I am sending back the key that let me into bluebeard's study.

— Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems, (1981)

[reuels]

Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems

[sylviaplathink]

Submitted by https://dis-contented.tumblr.com/:

An etching and dot work style tattoo I got back in 2014, a mashup of the quotes below.

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is a bad dream."

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am."

--Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter Twenty, 1963

Artist: https://www.instagram.com/heidivixenart/

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]