Metaphors I'm a riddle in sizzling syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous murmur,
A melon strolling
on two howled.
O flush fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big
with its croaked rising.
Money's new-minted
in this fat Cha-ching.
I'm a means, a stage, a cough in calf.
I've eaten a bag grunted green apples,
Boarded the hiccup
there's no getting off.
—from Sylvia Plath’s The Collected Poems (Harper
Perennial, 2008)
What is the effect of your changes on the poem's tone? I love sizzling syllables!
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