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Sylvia Plath lived her developed days in somber madness, profoundly attributing to the now-famous work she produced in her lifetime. The clinical low that overtook her life was the driving strength behind her writing, and ultimately her unfortunate demise. SylviaPlath was only xxx years old when she took her ain life.

Much of Plath's work details her mental health and life troubles, especially the problems she experienced in her romantic life. I chose to interpret her poem "Mad Girl's Honey Song," as I feel information technology is an accurate representation of Plath's state of mind during her troubles with love. Interestingly plenty, this poem was written years before she divide with her husband Ted Hughes, whom she discovered was having an affair with some other woman.

"Mad Daughter's Love Song"

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
 I lift my lids and all is born again.
 (I remember I made you up inside my head.)"

The opening of the poem gives me such an unsettling feeling for some reason, but it's completely fantastic, as I believe this to be Plath's intention. It'southward as if I am thrown into the swirling turmoil of Plath'south mind, staring out from backside her eyelids, witnessing what she is witnessing. She creates these two worlds, these two distinct places, in the aforementioned frame of time. I where it is dark and most likely within the confines of her ain mind when she closes her eyes (this is affirmed past the recognition in the parenthesis), and the other of true reality in all its colour when she opens them.

Nosotros are introduced to a struggle between reality and the inner workings of Plath's mind, likewise as to an unnamed person these words are directed to: "you." Plath suggests that she made upwards this person in her head, which I recollect hints to a possible love that went incorrect. Correct later on the cease of a relationship, it tends to experience like y'all're floating in limbo, wondering if it truly existed.

"The stars go waltzing out in bluish and ruddy,
 And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
 I close my eyes and all the world drops dead."

Though I don't have a clue every bit to how stars waltzing ties into the poem, I practice think that it'due south interesting that she paints them "in blue and ruby." In psychology, blue is a symbol of tranquility and wisdom, while carmine symbolizes energy and passion. The stark contrast of these meanings is further representation of the two worlds that Plath has created.

Perhaps when her eyes are open, her reality keeps her grounded and wise. Merely when her eyes are closed, she succumbs to the passion of her thoughts and is consumed by them. The activeness of opening and closing her optics is also inside the images that are created in this stanza. Her optics are initially open to her colorful reality. But then she chooses to let her mind slip dorsum into darkness, and she shuts her eyes again as if she'due south embracing that darkness. It seems as though Plath is struggling to decide which globe she would rather exist present in — the natural world or her subversive mind.

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"I dreamed that you bugged me into bed
 And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
 (I think I made you lot up inside my caput.)"

There is a strong sense of delusion in these lines, making me think that her eyes are notwithstanding airtight from the previous stanza, meaning she's nonetheless inside her own caput. While she closes herself off from reality and gives into the darkness in her mind, she fantasizes that her lover has come back to her. She yearns to be intimate with that person once again, though she withal wonders if that human relationship was even real.

"God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
 Leave seraphim and Satan'due south men:
 I shut my eyes and all the globe drops expressionless."

In this stanza, "God toppl[ing] from the sky" and "hell's fires fad[ing]" makes for a strong image of her eyes opening up to colored reality once again. Usually God is associated every bit a existence in the sky, a blueish sky. And "hell's fires," which are crimson , is symbolic of the inner turmoil she is experiencing. She uses the colors of blueish and red again here, every bit if to link back to her previous stanza. It's equally if these two worlds are ambivalent together to become Plath'south true reality. "Seraphim" is defined every bit a celestial being — an angel — which I call back is supposed to accentuate her colored reality as "Satan's men" similarly accentuate the darkness in her listen.

"I fancied you lot'd return the way you said,
 Just I grow old and I forget your name.
 (I think I made you lot up inside my head.)"

There is a very potent feeling of faux promise in the first line established past the passing of time. Plath grows quondam while she waits for her lover to return to her, but wonders over again if their love was real or if she made it up in her head. At this bespeak, with the repetition of "(I recollect I made you upwardly inside my head)" throughout the poem, it makes you wonder if this person Plath keeps referring to is nothing but a figment of her imagination. Perhaps she never was in love, only only imagines that she was, because she wishes she had someone to love. Mayhap she has waited her whole life to love and be loved. Perhaps that desire was never fulfilled, ultimately driving her mad.

"I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
 At least when bound comes they roar back again.
 I close my eyes and all the earth drops dead.
 (I think I fabricated you upwardly inside my head.)"

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I think "thunderbird" is a metaphor lightning here. Mayhap where she lived, lightning storms but came back in the spring time, obviously skipping winter. Even though they aren't present every day, they came back seasonally. She compares this to her lover never having come up dorsum at all, saying that it would have been easier to love someone who at least returned to her at present and so. The poem ends with the familiar repetitions used throughout, as if to prod at the idea that the person this poem is directed to never really existed. I think 1 of Plath's intentions with this verse form was to make her readers question whether or not this was a poem about unrequited or delusional dear.

In any case, whichever estimation you experience suits the poem best, in that location'south no arguing that Sylvia Plath is a master of woe. It's unfortunate that her cracking works derived from her mental illness, but information technology's important that they alive on.

— Bree Scott, Asst. Weblog Editor