She sat in her darkened kitchen on her old chair
reflecting on what went wrong?
why did she always feel so incredibly lonely?
and why did he walk around her house like a Lion?
when she knew she was the true Lion
and he was the pussy
she knew she'd be noticed for her creative mind
even though he would drum it into her every day
that the fame was meant for him
she knew the truth, but she kept quiet
how must it feel to be so damn egotistic?
not to see talent in anything other than a mirror?
she was the talent
she was the real passion
the fire in the home
the fire in the pen
and the fire in her little black book of scribbles
that she kept safe and sound
under her mattress
and never could share with the world
despite her disappointment
and lack of enthusiasm for life
she still stirred the fresh soup
she made, every evening
and still, she shared it with him.
-
Author:
Teddy.15 (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2025 02:30
- Comment from author about the poem: Sylvia Plath Vibes...
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Cheeky Missy, Thomas W Case
Offline)
Comments4
Real strength lays behind the facade of power. Quite is the granite bolder covered with vibrant colorful but fragile orchids. A beautiful and thoughtful write
Thank you my dearest sorrenbarret 🌹
My pleasure Teddy
Strong piece, Teddy. The Sylvia Plath shadow is right there...dear poet...quiet fury, quiet fire, and a simmering presence that never stops burning. Well done, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
A true love of mine, the great Sylvia Plath, seems her muse wants me to speak. ❤️ Thank you dear friend. 🌹
Indeed. And glad you listened to her. She's a gem for sure! You are most welcome, my friend.
💜
Brilliant work, sweet Teddy.
Thank you sweet Thomas. 🌹
Fine words Teddy, some people do not accept or realise the strength of others.
Andy
So very true, thank you dear Andy. 🌹
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