I've taken literature for 6 years and the most memorable book i studied is the book of poems by Sylvia Plath. and of all the macabre, depressed, sinister, cynical, anti christ, anti men, anti world poems, none has touched so close to how i feel then this.
Sheep in Fog
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness,
the far Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
in case i forget what it means years from now, i shall attempt a prognostication on the poem. Form what i gather from Plath, the imagery of a sheep in a fog depicts a hazy picture assuming a sense of lost in the author. (something which i feel most of the time)
Most of the images she uses are those that have no permenance eg. morning blackening, train's breath. Everything fades, there is no lasting artifacts. This conveys, in my opinion, a lack of belongingness and worthlessess.
Most stuff mentioned are also singular terms, "flower left out" "train" "horse". Obviously portraying desolation and isolation.
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