Hughes, Frieda


The holes that filtered you before,
Like swamp dogs, open mouthed, are sleeping.
Their mud has sunk between your fault lines
And their bed
Rocks at the end of your corridor.

– Frieda Hughes, “The Smile”

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Read this interview with Frieda Hughes from TIME:

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The daughter of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, and a writer and artist in her own right, talks about her work, her parents and how she eventually found out about her mother’s suicide

They are killing her again.
She said she did it
One year in every ten,
But they do it annually, or weekly,
Some even do it daily,
Carrying her death around in their heads
And practicing it. She saves them
The trouble of their own;
They can die without ever making
The decision. My buried mother
Is up-dug for repeat performances.

– Frieda Hughes, “My Mother”

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Watch Frieda Hughes read her work at the Ted Hughes Festival 2008:

Ted Hughes Festival – Frieda Hughes reads her poems

24/10/2008 – Ted Hughes Theatre, Mytholmroyd. Frieda Hughes reads some poems from her published collections “Wooroloo”, “Stonepicker” & “Waxworks” and from her upcoming “The Book of Mirrors”. This video is only an excerpt of her reading, I apologise for the quality of both image and sound.

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