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White Boxes

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2007 1:57 pm
by Saturn
White boxes.

“I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Ch. XI


Plath knew all too well
About the white boxes,
The compartments life
Parcels itself out into.

Soon as a door opens
The echo then rebounds
Of another being closed.
I see the paving, the tiles,
The bleached white walls,
The clinical smell of them.
Stark, yet brilliant, cold
In their bleak simplicity,
Each new room dazzles
Deceptive of possibility:

They are all the same...

Plath knew all too well
About the white boxes,
The compartments life
Parcels itself out into.

PostPosted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 5:24 pm
by dks
Another gem.

This is quite brilliant:

Soon as a door opens
The echo then rebounds
Of another being closed.
I see the paving, the tiles,
The bleached white walls,
The clinical smell of them.
Stark, yet brilliant, cold
In their bleak simplicity,
Each new room dazzles
Deceptive of possibility:


You answered your own question in your post about your poetry and the creative writing class, here, Stephen. :!:

PostPosted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:40 pm
by Saturn
Oh please :oops: