Here is my tribute to Sylvia Plath; a villanelle-

her voice still echoes around

the lone bird, lost in the mirrors of time

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

hear, take it in, let it be found

moaning in pain, narrating the crime

her voice still echoes around

her body decaying in the burial ground

she is gone, leaving behind her life’s dime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

the years she spent but being bound

a prisoner to her own mind’s rime

her voice still echoes around

leaving nothing behind her, no expound

just her work, her prayers, so sublime

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound

oh Sylvia Plath, you are indeed crowned

the queen, amid the humanity’s grime 

your voice still echoes around

faded, yet there with a fluttering sound