
I seem to be very fond of Sylvia Plath and I have enjoyed reading her poetry for awhile. I enjoy her darkness, cleverness and her way with words. I like that I have to check the dictionary occasionally because she was fond of the thesaurus at times. After finishing The Bell Jar the other day, I found myself exploring her life more and became interested in her two children with Ted Hughes. I discovered that her daughter
Frieda Hughes is still alive, while her son committed suicide at age 47.
Being the child of a parent who committed suicide, I always wonder if I will face the same fate(as if I have no choice!). Like somehow it is in my blood, a future I cannot escape. Either way-Sylvia Plath has inspired me and I have begun to write poetry again and even the beginning of a story. I also watch the film Sylvia again and became inspired by certain shots, which led to some screenshot grabs. FUN.





















In 2003, Frieda Hughes publically protested the BBC’s decision to go forward with a film about Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. She claimed the film, Sylvia, would be a voyeuristic re-telling of Plath’s suicide and voiced her objections to what she felt would be a glorification of her mother’s death in a poem entitled “My Mother”, published in the Tatler in February of the same year:
... They are killing her again.
She said she did it One year in every ten, But they do it annually, or weekly, Some even do it daily,
...
Now they want to make a film For anyone lacking the ability To imagine the body, head in the oven, Orphaning children.
... They want to use her poetry
As stitching and sutures To give it credibility, They think I should love it – Having her back again, they think I should give them my mother’s words To fill the mouth of their monster, Their Sylvia Suicide Doll