Emotional Depth:

Poetry evokes emotions that may be difficult to articulate otherwise, allowing readers to engage with their own sentiments and experiences.

Why should we read poetry to increase our emotional depth? Well, my dear intellectual curiosity seekers, let me enlighten you with a touch of wit and whimsy. Poetry, my friends, is the sizzling hot lava of the literary world that infiltrates the crevices of our emotions like a ninjutsu master. It waltzes into our souls, seducing us with its rhythmic charm and insidious complexity. By succumbing to its enchantment, we unearth hidden depths within ourselves – those untouched chambers where vulnerability resides. Through verses laden with metaphors and words bursting at their linguistic seams, we gain access to an untapped wellspring of empathy and understanding. Poetry is an alchemical potion that transforms mere mortals into emotionally-intelligent beings who can decipher the intricate dance of human sentiment. So, my dear readers, abandon your skepticism and immerse yourself in this intoxicating vortex of emotions; for in doing so, you shall emerge as unassailable champions of emotional profundity!

Today, I am sharing a poetry by one of my favourite writers, Sylvia Plath:

The Applicant

First, are you our sort of a
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something’s missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit——

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they’ll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she’ll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it’s a poultice.
You have an eye, it’s an image.
My boy, it’s your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

In case you are still wondering if you should read poetry or not, I am here to change your mind. Over the next few days I intend to give you more reasons as to why poetry is not dead and why we should still be reading them.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Moushmi Radhanpara (@moushmiradhanpara)