Details
Nothing to say, yet
Comment
Nothing to say, yet
Listen to A glimpse of Silvia Plath's "Mirror" poem, Chloe Aufrichtig by Chloe Aufrichtig MP3 song. A glimpse of Silvia Plath's "Mirror" poem, Chloe Aufrichtig song from Chloe Aufrichtig is available on Audio.com. The duration of song is 07:00. This high-quality MP3 track has 900.945 kbps bitrate and was uploaded on 22 May 2023. Stream and download A glimpse of Silvia Plath's "Mirror" poem, Chloe Aufrichtig by Chloe Aufrichtig for free on Audio.com – your ultimate destination for MP3 music.
Comment
Loading comments...
The poem "Mirror" by Sylvia Plath explores the significance of our reflection and how it connects to our perception of ourselves and society's perception of us. The mirror in the poem is personified and immortal, while the woman reflected in it ages and becomes more mortal. This highlights the connection between time and our reflection. The poem also delves into the disconnect between the body and the mind, with the woman's reflection changing while her internal self remains the same. It symbolizes mortality versus immortality and the impact of seeing oneself age. The poem suggests that mirrors not only reflect physical features but also reflect the passage of time. It also touches on the idea that our reflections are connected to our ancestors and will be seen by future generations. Plath wrote this poem after giving birth to her first child, which may have influenced her contemplation of time's fleeting nature. Overall, the poem emphasizes the importance of our reflection and its con Hi, it's Chloe. My poem is Mirror by Sylvia Plath. Our reflection is very important to how we perceive ourselves and how society can perceive us. And through our physical appearance, we create a mental idea of who we are. Mirror by Sylvia Plath. I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see, I swallow immediately, just as it is. A mistake by love or dislike. I'm not cruel, only truthful. The eye of a little god, four cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart, but it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I'm a lake. A woman bends over me, searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles of the moon. I see her back and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she is drowning in a growth. And in me, an old woman rises toward her, day after day, like a terrible fish. First reading this poem made me think of a riddle, because of the constant uses of I am. For example, I am silver and exact, or I'm not cruel, only truthful. It seems like the author, Sylvia Plath, is trying to make you guess what it is, even though you already know. The mirror that is being personified in this poem is immortal. Here it says, most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. There is no aging to this mirror. But then later in the poem, for the woman, it says, and in me, an older woman rises toward her, day after day, like a terrible fish. So through this immortal thing, this woman is aging and becoming more and more mortal in her view. And she's saying that she will soon pass, and that time goes by. So there's a comparison between time and our reflection. And we really can only see time passing us by being able to see how our features are changing and how we're aging. So the insight of this poem is that mirrors not only reflect your face, but the reflection of your face reflects time. So mirrors reflect your physical features, but also time as well. This poem invites a disconnect between the body and the mind, because this woman, she's coming and she's going. And she is the same internally. But she, her reflection is being described as ever changing from a young girl into a woman. So to me seems like she's putting on a mask when she looks at herself. And her soul is behind the mask. But the mask is changing. And it's as if she's looking at something that she's not connected to, such as a terrible fish, as the poem states. This poem is about the connection between time and our reflection and how we see ourselves, and also morality versus immorality and how seeing ourselves age and seeing time take over makes us feel more mortal up against a mirror or an object which seems to be much more immortal than we are. Sylvia Plath wrote this poem after giving birth to her first child. And it could be written the way it is, in comparison with morality and immorality because she's seeing her daughter, who is just entering her life, and it might make her think about how quickly time passes. The personification in this poem is showing the small significance of life in general. Because even though the mirror is being personified and turned into more of a living thing, it is still immortal, unlike the woman who is ever aging and ever growing and very much so mortal. My face is reflected through my ancestors, similarly, like a mirror. They have looked into mirrors, just as I am, and seen similar features and similar traits, and this poem reminded me that the people that will come after me will similarly look through my face and possibly maybe just my eyes or look through to my lips. Mirror by Sylvia Plath. I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see, I swallow immediately, just as it is. I'm misted by love or dislike. I'm not cruel, only truthful. The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink with speckles. I've looked at it so long, I think it is part of my heart, but it flickers. Faces in darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she is drowned, a young girl. And in me an old woman rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
There are no comments yet.
Be the first! Share your thoughts.
