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It’s hard to believe that classes are coming to an end! 

When I first stepped into this class, I knew very little about Ted Hughes. What I did know, I didn’t like, and didn’t have any desire to get to know the man’s poetry. At first, it was a struggle. It was difficult to sit through poem after poem about a little creature in the forrest ripping apart another animal. Many nights reading in my bed I would think “for the love of Plath can we use ANYTHING else as inspiration than a damn woodland creature Ted?!” The most difficult poems for me to think through were the “Crow” poems. It was extremely difficult to sit there and wonder what or who the crow could be. With so many possibilities, it made understanding the poems to their full, close to impossible for me. Is this poem about his own self hatred, Plath, WHO IS THE FREAKIN’ CROW!? I only really started to understand, enjoy, and want to read Hughes when we got to “Birthday Letters” because I felt like this was him being the most real with himself. Let’s be honest with ourselves, Plath’s illness would have made his life difficult to say the least. Loving a person that is severely depressed is a hard thing to deal with. It makes you feel down on yourself, because you’re supposed to make them happy and you’re not. So I started to feel a little bad for the guy. I started to see the hurt, the guilt, and the sadness that came with Plath’s suicide. It really messed him up. 

Now, when it comes to Plath, I enjoyed her. Call me weird, I won’t deny it. But her poetry made me think, made me laugh, made me connect to it, and occasionally but not all that often, made me sad. When Bryan and Miguel would tell me about how sad they felt after reading her poetry, I couldn’t agree. The Bell Jar was one of my favorite books when I read it in high school. Not because I was a sad teenager, I was far from it. It was because it made me laugh and it made me think. I really saw that book, and a lot of her work as part of a feminist movement, in a sense. I wrote my final paper on what I’ve found throughout my readings this semester. Plath’s work was super feisty, powerful, and about how women should be. She was kind of like the Beyonce of 1950s poetry. Which is why I titled my paper Who Run The World? Girls. I really enjoyed learning more about her and her work this semester. Reading all of your blogs also brought insight into her work that thoroughly confused me. Professor Daumer did an excellent job of explaining her interpretations and how she got there, which helped me as well. 

It was a fun class, much better than what I was expecting and I’m happy that I was able to get through it with new understanding and a quasi love for Hughes. Have a good rest of the semester and good luck on your finals!

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I honestly hate to admit it, but, Hughes is growing on me! With “Birthday Letters” especially. I think it’s because this is the first time I feel as though he’s being extremely open and honest with his emotions and himself. Knowing that all these poems are about Plath helps take away the confusion I feel when I read Plath. Andplusalso, I was sick of reading about animals in the forest. The collection as a whole really speaks to me. I am a firm believer that you cannot love the sickness out of someone. Just because you get into a relationship with someone that is depressed, does not mean that you can fix them by loving them. I believe it’s something that many people struggle with, and often are heartbroken to see the reality of it. Sylvia couldn’t change because she got married, Hughes didn’t change her mental state. 

 

More specifically, the poem that stood out to me was “God Help the Wolf after Whom the Dogs Do Not Bark.” What a beautiful way to capture Plath’s essence. Truly, that is who Plath was, a wolf, but not many could see her talent during her lifetime. It’s heartbreaking to read what Hughes has written, because he really cracks Plath open and explains her to us as readers. He speaks of her father (a touchy subject indeed) and how she wasn’t wanted or praised the way that she should have been. 

Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter – your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give –
Whatever you found

 

These lines were what made me really enjoy this poem. I don’t think that either Hughes nor Plath knew exactly what they were getting into when they started their relationship. Do any of us really know what we’re getting ourselves into when we fall in love? 

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“Lovesong” by Ted Hughes is the only poem I have read thus far that I can truly say I love. I adore this poem. I think it’s beautiful and different, and not at all like how I view him typically. Though I have to say, I don’t see this poem as a romantic gesture or “lovesong” for Sylvia, as much as I see an anger and violence in the poem, that I often see throughout many of Hughes’ work. It appears to me to be a struggle, a battle royale, but with a beautiful cover. 

Though this poem is about a sexual encounter and experience between a man and a woman, I feel like it’s also about the obsession and power struggle between them as well. They want to trump each other, out do one another, and to me, that does not scream “love”. 

There is a total loss of individuality, and I believe that scared Hughes when he and Plath were together. To wear one another’s face in the morning after this sexual experience tells me that he lost track of who he really was. We as readers know how difficult it is to separate these two poets and their work. When you read Hughes’ you assume it’s about his relationship with Plath and vice versa. It’s typical for people in relationships to lose themselves in their partner, or take bits and pieces of that person and add it to themselves, it’s human nature. That’s another reason I love this poem so much. It is very relatable, I feel like at some point, everyone has loved another person in a somewhat similar fashion. Maybe not as intense, let’s hope! 

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other’s face

 

These three lines kill me. I LOVE them. This is a perfect way to put how I feel about Sylvia and Ted’s relationship. He hit the nail right on the head. I also think it’s creepy, but beautiful. Their brains took each other hostage, I can honestly say I can relate to this with my relationship. Our ideas and likes, dislikes, brains overtake one another sometimes. When you make a deep connection that’s what happens. However, I think that Hughes wants readers to realize how dysfunctional the relationship actually is. How unhealthy it is to be this involved and attached to someone, that you lose your voice and sense of self. 

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I read all of the Ariel poems numerous times. But the one that stuck out to me every time was “Words”. I feel like this poem is extremely direct and holds so much truth. 

Axes after whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes travelling
Off from the centre like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road______

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.

 

Every person has been on both the receiving and giving side of hurtful words. Words are like axes, they cut deep. I always say “you had to think it, to say it.” Nothing you say is without thought, it entered your mind in order to escape your lips. I always try to be mindful of my words for this very reason, hurtful words can be forgiven, but never forgotten. 

I especially enjoy where she writes “the echoes” because anytime someone lose to me has hurt me with what they say, I can’t help but have those words echo in my mind for quite awhile. 

This poem to me, shows how hurt Plath was with hurtful and hateful words that were thrown at her. I think that Plath was a really strong human being. Sure, some people say that suicide is the easy and cowardly way out, but she endured a lot in her life. To go through a mental illness is something that affects your entire life, everything you do. She was all encompassed by her depression, and battled with it for a long time before laying down her weapon, and letting it overcome her. A lot of people called her crazy, hell, we talked today briefly in class that Hughes’ called her fans “crazies” (and then Bryan wonders why I don’t really like Hughes as a person!) 

This is the poem I was able to most closely relate to out of all of them. This is because like I said earlier, I have spewed hateful horrible things from my mouth, and have had others do unto me the same. Sometimes (whether or not you said or received) the hateful words, you may not realize how loud or long the echo will be.

When she writes years later I encounter them…I believe that she is writing that something may have triggered her to remember a comment made in years past, but this time the words don’t hurt nearly as much. The words are now dry and riderless, they may have once caused a pool of tears, but no longer will she allow them to. Powerful statement, that you can get over mean words. It’s her way of saying “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

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I have blogged on this before in my introductory blog, but I LOVE The Bell Jar. Like most angsty teenage girls, I felt like Esther’s anger was me. 

What we spoke on in class made me start to think about the why of what I felt so many years ago. I am not an angry person, I’m not sad, but the way Esther is such an “unkind, annoying, little bitch” as Brian so lovingly put, is totally awesome. She really is just that. I think she’s funny though. To step on everyone’s feet while leaving, is humorous to me. That probably says a lot more about me, haha. 

I also laughed with our classmate Esther (not book Esther) when she spoke about book Esther walking about with the noose around her neck, just trying to find a place to hang herself. In no way is suicide funny, but the image of this girl wandering around was strange. 

Plath slays me, she really does. She’s dark, and funny, and she doesn’t even try that hard. 

I attempted to do the “mirror, microscope, telescope” assignment, but totally gave up because I got so frustrated with it. So, here we go again! 

Mirror: I don’t exactly want to relate to Esther, because if I do, then does that make me a total psychopath? But her unsolicited anger towards things speaks to my soul. Sometimes I feel like a raging jerk, and she gets that. She can be a total brat. 

Microscope: The part that upset me the most is when she speaks about the fig tree. All the possibilities of life being ripe, and for the taking. Then suddenly the fruit begins to rot and fall off the tree around her. That’s HORRIBLY sad. I think a lot of people feel this way to. There are so many possibilities for what we can do with our lives. We can be a mom, a teacher, a poet, a lawyer, whatever we set our mind to as the old cliche goes. But what happens when reality sets in, and we realize, no we can’t actually be everything we thought we could. It’s a harsh reality to watch the fruit of our own trees fall around us. How do we know we’re doing the right thing with our life. Especially in college, it seems we have to pick a study path and stick with it for the rest of our lives. 

Telescope: Still confused. So, I figured I’d come back and edit this once I hear y’alls feedback and talk to some classmates!

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For my paper I chose to focus on the relationship that each parent seemed to have with their children through their poetry. 

I think that Sylvia’s poetry gets a total disservice because of her depression. Today her name is synonymous with depression, bipolar, and plain ol’ bat shit crazy (excuse my language, but you know it’s true!). I think it’s terrible that some of her best work can be overlooked because of her mental state. 

Her poetry about pregnancy (and children) is SUPER dark. Let’s take a look at “Metaphors” which is a nine line poem, with nine syllables in each line. It’s a riddle, left up to us to figure out. The first time I read it through, I was confused. What could she possibly be talking about? Why is every metaphor something negative? Then I re-read it. It clicked. 

An elephant, a ponderous house, 
A melon strolling on two tendrils 

She’s pregnant! She’s pregnant and she hates it. A lot. I can’t say I blame her either. Being pregnant doesn’t look like much fun to me. She comes off as bitter, annoyed, and you don’t necessarily have to agree with her, or myself, to like what she’s doing here. It’s awesome, and per Plath’s style, she keeps herself strict to the rules. 

Then we have Hughes, who writes “Full Moon and Little Freida” about how in love with his daughter he is, how he looks at her like a masterpiece. But there is a dark undertone to this loving lullaby-like poem. 

A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.

I look at this as a metaphor for their marriage. Murky water, rocky, dangerous. Will they make it? Ultimately, they don’t. All while balancing unspilled milk, a metaphor for Frieda’s sustenance? Otherwise, the poem seems very much like a sweet poem for his daughter that he loves. The opposite feeling of many poems written by Plath about pregnancy, childbirth, and children in general. 

I can’t help but look at Hughes’ poetry as poetry “for the people”, he writes what he knows people will like, he doesn’t write for himself. Plath, she writes for herself. Not many women would agree with her dark view on being a mother, but how many people can relate to loving your child and having them be the best thing in the world? For that reason, I look at Hughes as kind of a fake. Plath, though as confusing as she may be, is so much more real and raw with her emotions, holding nothing back. 

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I have read this piece in high school, and was taught that The Colossus was written about Plath’s deceased father. I didn’t go against that interpretation. I knew that she didn’t have the best relationship with him, and everything in the poem seems to elude to him. It would appear that the speaker’s attitude towards him is grim. He is gone, destroyed, and no matter how hard she tries she can never piece him back together. It’s broken. Her relationship with him is broken, and if he’s passed, there is nothing she can do try and mend him or their relationship. However, I read the poem again (and again, and again, because let’s face it, a lot of the times you don’t know what Plath is talking about!) and I decided that maybe I didn’t agree with the fact that the colossus was her father. I thought it could be a metaphor for her depression, and unhappiness. I know it’s a stretch, but bear with me!

The first lines when she speaks of not being able to put it back together, could mean her life. No matter how hard she tries this looming dark cloud encompasses her life. When she is scaling the statue with a gluepot to try and fix it, but can’t, she feels defeated. Nothing she is doing, or can do, is helping the matter. Towards the end of the poem, it appears she gives up on any hope of being saved. There is nothing she can do, or anyone can do for her anymore. “No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel / On the blank stones of the landing” It appears that she is accepting her fate. Whether that be she plans on living with the depression of her life, or living with the fact that her father is gone and there is no changing that. 

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*Edit* I never actually published this post from this past weekend, just hit save draft and went about my life!

The poem that evoked an extremely strong response in me is “Fallgrief’s Girlfriends.” I enjoyed this one so much because I had read it in high school. I never understood much, so I decided to look a bit closer at the word choices and exactly why he might have wrote this in the first place. Many forums I read online stated that they didn’t think that it was written about Sylvia, but for a woman he had loved previous to meeting Plath. I actually would have to disagree! Both poets said they fell in love with one another’s wit and poetry, this is what he speaks to in this piece. 

Her eyes reflected painfully. Yet not that

He pitied her: he did not pity her.

I feel like that is a direct reference to the way he must have felt when he met Sylvia. When they met she was already a depressed and suicidal individual, however that didn’t matter to him. He didn’t feel sorry for her, he loved her for what she was artistically. I think that it’s beautiful that he fell in love with her spirit, however broken it was. Like I stated in my last post, their romance is so tragic but eerily beautiful all at one time. 

The chance changed him:

He has found a woman of such wit and looks

He can brag of her in every company.

I love that. She changed him. Their love changed him. I may be completely wrong (and Lord knows I probably am!) but I can’t believe that anyone could read this as being anyone other than Sylvia. Though he may have not been the most wonderful husband (or human being at that) he did love her and her mind. 

I enjoyed this because it wasn’t like his previous work, it doesn’t bore me to death with images of nature, animals, and hunting. It made me actually enjoy what I was reading. It made me want to continue to read more of his work, which I didn’t much feel like doing previous to this piece!

 

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Upon entering this class I knew very little of Ted Hughes and his poetry. I have read a few pieces from Plath, and like most people (especially angsty teenage girls, such as myself circa 2007) read The Bell Jar. I really enjoy Plath, though to some she may be depressing. I see so much of her soul in her writing, like she is bleeding emotions right on to the page. With Hughes, I struggle more. It isn’t that his work is boring, I just cannot seem to relate to it as much. I am not very keen on nature, I don’t care much for the sun (which is strange to some, I know), and I’d choose a rainy day inside over a sunny beach day, any day of the week. I feel like Plath’s poetry understands that part of me. However, when I read the essay “Capturing Animals” I LOVED when he said “Most of us find it difficult to know what we are feeling about anything. In any situation, it is almost impossible to know what is really happening to us.” How absolutely true of myself. I have always felt like I was alone in that, as an adult, I should know myself by now, right? Wrong! I feel like I change every single day, I still don’t know exactly what makes me, me. How does one comprehend what your emotions are? Sometimes I feel like there are simply no words for how much I feel about something in particular. You can write a paragraph about something you feel strongly about, yet it falls short of exactly what you were trying to say. He captured that. After I read that sentence, I knew why these two fell in love with each other’s minds as poets. 

However, the focus that Hughes has on nature and his love of animals throws me off. It’s hard for me to become invested in what he has to say, because I feel like I cannot relate to it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t see the talent he has to offer though! Poem’s like Egg-Head confuse the heck out of me. I can’t wrap my head around exactly what he is trying to say. I would love to have him write an essay on each poem he has written. By reading “Capturing Animals” I felt like he was answering all of my questions for me. He tied together his love of nature, with his love of words. It made sense the way he compared hunting with writing poetry. Sometimes it seems difficult for words to come to us, hard to capture exactly what we feel. I know I struggle with this A LOT! 

With Plath “April 18” caught my attention right off the bat. I absolutely loved it. The opening lines “the slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull” if that doesn’t describe everyone’s personal regrets, I don’t know what does. What a beautifully tragic way of putting it. I think that’s why I am so drawn to Plath, she is a romantic tragedy to me. 

I cannot wait to dive into more works by both authors. I love looking at the two different styles, who knows, maybe at the end of the semester I’ll be transformed into a Hughes fan!