The exam is just over and I’m clearing out my stuff. Instead of just checking them away, I have decided to post some of the poems I have read in the course of preparing for my reading literature A-level paper. Not to seem scholarly or sensitive or something soppy like that. They are just very, very good.
Anyway, Poems, Potatoes by Sylvia Plath:
The word, defining, muzzles; the drawn line
Ousts mistier peers and thrives, murderous,
In establishments which imagined lines
Can only haunt. Sturdy as potatoes,
Stones, without conscience, word and line endure,
Given an inch. Not that they’re gross (although
Afterthought often would have them alter
To delicacy, to poise) but that they
Shortchange me continuously: whether
More or other, they still dissatisfy.
Unpoemed, unpictured, the potato
Bunches its knobby browns on a vastly
Superior page; the blunt stone also.