Creative writing, Terminales Littérature en Langue Etrangère

Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s words in The Applicant, the Terminales L wrote their own “confessional poem”.

Activité d’écriture poétique, sur le modèle de la poésie de Sylvia Plath, poèmes des élèves de TL, 2018-2019, avec Mme Tchao, professeur d’anglais.

Sylvia PlathSylvia Plath 2


Cynthia ANANGA

These cold hands are keeping my soul,

I tried to open them,

But there was only a dark hole,

Can you hear my anthem? 


These cold hands are playing a melody,

I tried to hold it in my rubber breast,

But the fire and bombs destroyed the lady.

Can you hear my breath?


Winter is coming to see me,

But my doll is broken and won’t stop crying,

Like a cloud its tears are empty.

Can you see my eyes drowning?


Winter is coming to take me,

But my heart is sown by stitches,

Like a flower in a raging sea.

Can you see my feelings becoming aches?


Winter is knocking at my door,

I want to marry my loneliness and its snowflakes,

So I could cook and taste their flavour.

Is it how death looks? 





Acting like nothing happened, devastated I am

In my black thoughts I have to sail

Solidified like a doll

I have to handle a mind over which I don’t have any control.


Lost in my thoughts, in my words, in my mind

Now I just feel the emptiness inside

Darkness is just so close

That the light so quickly goes.


Please, can anybody feel this pain with me?

I have drowned so deeply

The fire and bombs in my head keep burning

That now I am tired of thinking.


Locked in this narrow hole

Married to remoteness

The only friend I have is my shadow

The only voice coming back is my echo.


To loneliness I have been used

You saved me

You and only you mummy


Like an angel fallen from the sky

You appeared and said to me:

“It is OK sweetie”

“I don’t want to see you cry”


I feel I have rubber breasts

Can anybody else feel my illness?

I am cooking my way to survive

In the only hope to strive for in this life.


I am certainly exposing my biggest fears,

My eyes are getting filled with tears

They are sinking down my cheeks

Alone in this place, I feel so weak.

Mummy, can you come back to me?

Mummy, do you hear me?

Can you bring me stitches?

Because I really can’t without your presence and your kisses.


To this end, I was sewing the portrait of my life

Mommy in my dreams you showed

In this world, you were the person I loved the most

Thank you for appearing and bringing me to life.




I confess

I am tired, I am exhausted, emptiness

Tired of being a wife, tired of these rubber breasts

I am tired of being married to a man I did not choose

Tired of this abuse,

By a man who calls me sweetie.


Now I feel empty

I am like a doll, emotionless,

Like a prisoner, powerless,

I am nothing,

Only flesh full of scars and stitches.


And in my eyes, it’s only fire and bombs,

My pupil is a huge crying hole,

Tired of life,

Tired of sewing, tired of cooking,

I am dying, I am dead, I am buried. 


Mathilde BENOT

I have spent all my life dreaming,

Dreaming that one day my life would be better,

Since small, I have learned to sew and cook.

They kept telling me: “Sweetie, did you prepare the meal?”

“Sweetie, did you finish sewing your brothers’ sweaters?”

I only had my eyes to cry, I cried, and I’m still crying.

I thought my life was finally going to change,

But I was wrong.


The saddest thing is when you are no longer surprised

When someone breaks your heart,

My life was meaningless, it was empty.

The impression of being in a black hole

Where depression follows me.

I knew it was the end 

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I was like a doll removed from its limbs

Even simple rubber breasts would have been enough

But I had nothing left, except stitches.


Life didn’t give me a chance,

I traveled whole roads, always accompanied

By a watch that reminded me I couldn’t go back,

I prefer to finish with all that, 

People find my body surrounded with fire and bombs ready to explode at any moment.

Sometimes the only closure you need is understanding that you deserve better.

I understood many things

I had suffered enough from this life

I had nothing left

And in one last sigh, everything was over. 




Outside it’s raining bombs and fire

The streets are empty, no passers-by

I hear in the distance the crying of a child

My eyes drift towards the living room

Where there is a gigantic hole.


Sadness comes over me when mom takes my sweetie doll

To sew it, stitches caused by the bombings

While my newly married sister cooks in the kitchen

With holes and devastated by bullets.




Coming back was a sorrowful journey.

The face covered with stitches,

Only eyes remaining to cry.

One day I found this dell, 

And she wanted to marry me,

To fullfil this hole within me.

She just spent everyday of her life, 

Sewing, cooking, being a good wife.

This way she protected me

From the fire and bombs of life.