lady lazarus!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
To my utter shock, I actually qualified for the next round of our poetry recital competition. I'd decided to change my poem for the final round, so I recited another one of Sylvia Plath's works - this one a little more famous - Lady Lazarus. And surprisingly, I won the recital. This is the poem, which I have come to really like. It's quite long, and took me over 3 minutes to recite it.
Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies
These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
---
Thanks John for letting me in on that one. Considering my ignorance about literature in general, I probably wouldn't have known about the poem in the first place.
Meanwhile, I've decided to go ahead with my idea of starting an art/business project with my penguin cartoons. The money's not that much (I sell it at 5 bucks each) and I've only had two people asking for it so far, but really, the main reason why I'm doing this is to distract me and keep my mind of things that will otherwise drive me to the same end as Plath, perhaps not involving an oven, though. :P
I've posted up a couple of new ones at my DA. Here's one that I sold to my Maths teacher; she wanted a "Thank You" card to give to goodness-knows-who:
It's quite simple, really. I figured since I enjoy drawing these little guys, might as well make a few bucks while I'm at it, right?
So, anyone want one? Lol.










