Welcome.
This is a no shoes house. But even if you're not barefoot and pregnant, there's room for you.
I happen to know that Plath did not have a bun in the oven when she wrote "Metaphors," the poem that gives name to this blog.
In the poem, Plath heaps image on top of image without directly mentioning the tenor of the metaphors (the thing all the images represent). Yet, the riddle is an obvious one.
Ask any heterosexual woman of child-bearing age if she is pregnant, and most likely you will get this answer: I don't think so. There is always uncertainty. Always the potential. Doubt, after all, is the heart of metaphor. You are one thing, a woman, but you could also be something completely different, a house. I think Plath was playing around with that idea in her glut of poetic images.
I like to think about Plath writing that poem, imagining herself pregnant, perhaps hoping, permitting the doubt long enough to open to the possibilities that create the vital images of the poem.
This is a no shoes house. But even if you're not barefoot and pregnant, there's room for you.
I happen to know that Plath did not have a bun in the oven when she wrote "Metaphors," the poem that gives name to this blog.
In the poem, Plath heaps image on top of image without directly mentioning the tenor of the metaphors (the thing all the images represent). Yet, the riddle is an obvious one.
Ask any heterosexual woman of child-bearing age if she is pregnant, and most likely you will get this answer: I don't think so. There is always uncertainty. Always the potential. Doubt, after all, is the heart of metaphor. You are one thing, a woman, but you could also be something completely different, a house. I think Plath was playing around with that idea in her glut of poetic images.
I like to think about Plath writing that poem, imagining herself pregnant, perhaps hoping, permitting the doubt long enough to open to the possibilities that create the vital images of the poem.
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