Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, thier balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.
Tilting with the winds,
On arrowy stems,
Pineapple-barked,
A green crescent of palms
Sends up its forked
Firework of fronds.
A quartz-clear dawn
Inch by bright inch
Gilds all our Avenue,
And out of the blue drench
Of Angels' Bay
Rises the round red watermelon sun.
this poem is quite generic and not very beleivable, i find it hard to believe that Plath was fully into what she was writing. I do like the references to fruit. It is my favourite of all plath's poems just because it doent hint suicidle tendencies.
| Posted on 2008-05-28 | by a guest
.: :.
this poem is quite generic and not very beleivable, i find it hard to believe that Plath was fully into what she was writing. I do like the references to fruit. It is my favourite of all plath's poems just because it doent hint suicidle tendencies.