A poem about Sylvia Plath by Robin McNamara

Strange Dreams

I could not decipher the reality of you:
For you were once, the impossible dream. 

In the city with no time and the shadows 
Of past lives, melded into walls that 
Couldn’t talk of your history. 

Ibsen said,
Temptations are manifold in this word.

In the city of grime and Inclement weather 
That may or may not wash away uncertainty 
Before the night takes hold of

Your morality; before the morning rises
And burns away the poets moon 
And workers scramble from their beds, 

To go to a job that comes before their dreams. Dollar-baby-generation, with all those poems 
By Sylvia Plath, unread on the shelf.

Yearning for learning, musing about losing /
Chains & shackles that sink a soul like 
A stone to the bottom of nothingness. 

In the words of Jim Morrison;
This is the strangest life I have ever known. 

A Poetry Showcase from Robin McNamara