Our Kind

Everytime I read Plath's poem "Mushrooms," I feel inspired, accomplished, and connected, to both myself and the world around me. Take a moment to read her poem and reflect on your response.

Do the words remind you to be the change, and be the love?

Plath's poetry does not speak to everyone. Like Professor Watson tells her students in Mona Lisa Smile when they witness one of Jackson Pollock's paintings, the assignment is not to like the painting, but to consider it.

So, the question then, goes beyond feeling. Although you may disagree with the poem's structure, style, or message, do you consider the features and what they offer?

Gros Bisous,

Your Neighborhood Feminist


Mushrooms

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widden the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.

Image Source - Plath
Image Source - Mushrooms

poem courtesy of:

Plath, Sylvia. "Mushrooms." The Colossus. New York: Random House, 1998. 37-38. Print.