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Daddy
Daddy
By Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time——
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.
If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.
By Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time——
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You——
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.
If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two——
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.
5 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1965
About the author
Sylvia Plath
288 books29.5k followersSylvia Plath was an American poet, novelist, and short story writer, widely regarded as one of the most influential and emotionally powerful authors of the 20th century. Born in Boston, Massachusetts, she demonstrated literary talent from an early age, publishing her first poem at the age of eight. Her early life was shaped by the death of her father, Otto Plath, when she was eight years old, a trauma that would profoundly influence her later work.
Plath attended Smith College, where she excelled academically but also struggled privately with depression. In 1953, she survived a suicide attempt, an experience she later fictionalized in her semi-autobiographical novel The Bell Jar. After recovering, she earned a Fulbright Scholarship to study at Newnham College, Cambridge, in England. While there, she met and married English poet Ted Hughes in 1956. Their relationship was passionate but tumultuous, with tensions exacerbated by personal differences and Hughes's infidelities.
Throughout her life, Plath sought to balance her ambitions as a writer with the demands of marriage and motherhood. She had two children with Hughes, Frieda and Nicholas, and continued to write prolifically. In 1960, her first poetry collection, The Colossus and Other Poems, was published in the United Kingdom. Although it received modest critical attention at the time, it laid the foundation for her distinctive voice—intensely personal, often exploring themes of death, rebirth, and female identity.
Plath's marriage unraveled in 1962, leading to a period of intense emotional turmoil but also extraordinary creative output. Living with her two children in London, she wrote many of the poems that would posthumously form Ariel, the collection that would cement her literary legacy. These works, filled with striking imagery and raw emotional force, displayed her ability to turn personal suffering into powerful art. Poems like "Daddy" and "Lady Lazarus" remain among her most famous, celebrated for their fierce honesty and technical brilliance.
In early 1963, following a deepening depression, Plath died by suicide at the age of 30. Her death shocked the literary world and sparked a lasting fascination with her life and work. The posthumous publication of Ariel in 1965, edited by Hughes, introduced Plath's later poetry to a wide audience and established her as a major figure in modern literature. Her novel The Bell Jar was also published under her own name shortly after her death, having initially appeared under the pseudonym "Victoria Lucas."
Plath’s work is often classified within the genre of confessional poetry, a style that emphasizes personal and psychological experiences. Her fearless exploration of themes like mental illness, female oppression, and death has resonated with generations of readers and scholars. Over time, Plath has become a feminist icon, though her legacy is complex and occasionally controversial, especially in light of debates over Hughes's role in managing her literary estate and personal history.
Today, Sylvia Plath is remembered not only for her tragic personal story but also for her immense contributions to American and English literature. Her work continues to inspire writers, artists, and readers worldwide. Collections such as Ariel, Crossing the Water, and Winter Trees, as well as her journals and letters, offer deep insight into her creative mind. Sylvia Plath’s voice, marked by its intensity and emotional clarity, remains one of the most haunting and enduring in modern literature.
Plath attended Smith College, where she excelled academically but also struggled privately with depression. In 1953, she survived a suicide attempt, an experience she later fictionalized in her semi-autobiographical novel The Bell Jar. After recovering, she earned a Fulbright Scholarship to study at Newnham College, Cambridge, in England. While there, she met and married English poet Ted Hughes in 1956. Their relationship was passionate but tumultuous, with tensions exacerbated by personal differences and Hughes's infidelities.
Throughout her life, Plath sought to balance her ambitions as a writer with the demands of marriage and motherhood. She had two children with Hughes, Frieda and Nicholas, and continued to write prolifically. In 1960, her first poetry collection, The Colossus and Other Poems, was published in the United Kingdom. Although it received modest critical attention at the time, it laid the foundation for her distinctive voice—intensely personal, often exploring themes of death, rebirth, and female identity.
Plath's marriage unraveled in 1962, leading to a period of intense emotional turmoil but also extraordinary creative output. Living with her two children in London, she wrote many of the poems that would posthumously form Ariel, the collection that would cement her literary legacy. These works, filled with striking imagery and raw emotional force, displayed her ability to turn personal suffering into powerful art. Poems like "Daddy" and "Lady Lazarus" remain among her most famous, celebrated for their fierce honesty and technical brilliance.
In early 1963, following a deepening depression, Plath died by suicide at the age of 30. Her death shocked the literary world and sparked a lasting fascination with her life and work. The posthumous publication of Ariel in 1965, edited by Hughes, introduced Plath's later poetry to a wide audience and established her as a major figure in modern literature. Her novel The Bell Jar was also published under her own name shortly after her death, having initially appeared under the pseudonym "Victoria Lucas."
Plath’s work is often classified within the genre of confessional poetry, a style that emphasizes personal and psychological experiences. Her fearless exploration of themes like mental illness, female oppression, and death has resonated with generations of readers and scholars. Over time, Plath has become a feminist icon, though her legacy is complex and occasionally controversial, especially in light of debates over Hughes's role in managing her literary estate and personal history.
Today, Sylvia Plath is remembered not only for her tragic personal story but also for her immense contributions to American and English literature. Her work continues to inspire writers, artists, and readers worldwide. Collections such as Ariel, Crossing the Water, and Winter Trees, as well as her journals and letters, offer deep insight into her creative mind. Sylvia Plath’s voice, marked by its intensity and emotional clarity, remains one of the most haunting and enduring in modern literature.
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 88 reviews
February 7, 2017
The audacity of using Holocaust metaphors to describe your personal life - holy smokes, what a brilliant poem.
June 8, 2016
in this poem Sylvia Plath used some metaphors and imagery to show how she was a victim of her father or perhaps her husband.
by using some German words the speaker is showing that her German father is like a Nazi and therefore she is a Jew. At the end of this poem, the metaphor for the speaker's father and husband, and potentially all men, shifts from Nazis to vampires.The vampire has sucked the narrator's blood for seven years, probably the length of their marriage. This is a vivid metaphor for the pain she has been bearing.
it's the ironical title of the poem 'daddy' which suggest firstly how cute a father can be, but now is like a monster or somehow a Nazi. so there is an internal struggle between loving and hating her deceased father.
whenever I read Plath's poems, her depression and her committing suicide appear right in front o my eyes. how sad one's life could be!
don't listen to its audio version.if you don't want to burst into tears!
by using some German words the speaker is showing that her German father is like a Nazi and therefore she is a Jew. At the end of this poem, the metaphor for the speaker's father and husband, and potentially all men, shifts from Nazis to vampires.The vampire has sucked the narrator's blood for seven years, probably the length of their marriage. This is a vivid metaphor for the pain she has been bearing.
it's the ironical title of the poem 'daddy' which suggest firstly how cute a father can be, but now is like a monster or somehow a Nazi. so there is an internal struggle between loving and hating her deceased father.
whenever I read Plath's poems, her depression and her committing suicide appear right in front o my eyes. how sad one's life could be!
don't listen to its audio version.if you don't want to burst into tears!
September 21, 2020
This is the first time I'm reading Plath with full dedication and it blew me away. A poem which ranges from innocent child-talk to dark, disturbing Holocaust images leaves you emotionally drained, and rightly so. Such is the passion and brutal honestly which comes across. Plath does not shy away from wrapping the whole poem in a blanket of somberness, leaving you no way to escape. You feel the weight of her love, hatred, and helplessness as your own. A gem of a poem.
November 18, 2024
Every woman adores a Fascist.
December 31, 2020
I LOVE THIS. Please listen to Sylvia Plath recite it if you ever read it.
December 2, 2017
an incredibly beautiful, yet heart-wrecking tale of fear, hatred and release.
Sylvia Plath tries in this marvellous poem to forgive her father for what he has, or has not, been for her...
He died when she was 10, but she still remembers his figure, the fear he used to instill in her, so much so that she would never learn German, her mother tongue, because when he spoke it, it meant that something bad was going to happen.
But fear is not the only sentiment this poem arouses. Anger and hatred are deeply rooted in the entire composition, she hated him for not showing his love enough, she hated him so much, she was angry at herself, 10 years after his death, she tried committing suicide, and he was getting closer and closer... But after that, after that failed attempt she is free, "the black telephone is cut at the root" she says and she is finally free.
Sylvia Plath tries in this marvellous poem to forgive her father for what he has, or has not, been for her...
He died when she was 10, but she still remembers his figure, the fear he used to instill in her, so much so that she would never learn German, her mother tongue, because when he spoke it, it meant that something bad was going to happen.
But fear is not the only sentiment this poem arouses. Anger and hatred are deeply rooted in the entire composition, she hated him for not showing his love enough, she hated him so much, she was angry at herself, 10 years after his death, she tried committing suicide, and he was getting closer and closer... But after that, after that failed attempt she is free, "the black telephone is cut at the root" she says and she is finally free.
October 12, 2022
The destruction and distancing of intolerable male figures? This is my cup of tea! („• ֊ •„)
I do feel like this could have been better. Plath seemed disassociated with the event of the Holocaust which made it quite difficult to connect. Having the balls to compare one’s life to that of a very traumatic event is definitely bad ass though.
She deserves points for being badass.
I do feel like this could have been better. Plath seemed disassociated with the event of the Holocaust which made it quite difficult to connect. Having the balls to compare one’s life to that of a very traumatic event is definitely bad ass though.
She deserves points for being badass.
April 25, 2025
SPEECHLESS!
THIS IS LITERALLY PERFECTION!!!!
THIS IS LITERALLY PERFECTION!!!!
October 13, 2015
This is one of the many Plath poems I studied in my final year of high school, and undoubtedly one of my favourites. Every time I re-read it, I find new meaning and symbolism, which I absolutely love in poetry. I was inspired to pick this up again after watching a documentary about the life of Ted Hughes, in which Plath is heavily featured.
The running metaphor of comparing her father/husband to vampires is brilliant.
"If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart."
I really wish I had appreciated this more when I first read it.
The running metaphor of comparing her father/husband to vampires is brilliant.
"If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart."
I really wish I had appreciated this more when I first read it.
August 20, 2024
"At twenty I tried to die
they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue"
they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue"
December 4, 2024
My first introduction to Sylvia Plath, honestly I’m in adoration of the poetic nature and confessional language of her work absolutely otherworldly and widely relatable, easily understood and recognisable feelings that relay generations since her passing.
February 17, 2022
might or might not be getting into poems lately. I LOVED THIS!!
January 3, 2023
I'd give five stars for "If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two—— / The vampire who said he was you" alone
August 26, 2023
What an interesting yet controversial way to address your own dad. The hatred for your own Father but also the longing for him after his death
March 15, 2024
The way that Sylvia’s anger, fear, and hurt is described in this poem is controversial, yet powerful.
December 14, 2024
the last stanza really did it for me
May 13, 2025
Luister naar de audioversie!!
October 29, 2024
'Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.'
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.'
January 7, 2017
"Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time.."
You died before I had time.."
May 13, 2017
"At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue."
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue."
July 4, 2017
"I’m through."
December 6, 2021
I'm all for the feminism, not so much for the comparing the experience of being a woman to being a Jewish person in the Holocaust.
July 30, 2025
Sylvia Plath, you are (were) insane (literally).
April 19, 2026
➳ 5 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
sylvia never misses
୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆
sylvia never misses
୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆
September 18, 2023
I rated 4 stars because it call me out on the relationship with my father. Shows the pain the girl goes through, and how uses that to rise above it.
“I used to pray to recover you.” I used to do that, and I still do that today.
“I thought every German was you.” When a girl grows up, she looks for a man that is like her father. It it’s a good reputation, she looks for that. The same goes for if it’s a bad reputation.
Not only that we began to act on how we were taught or loved. For example, the writer wrote, “I began to talk like a Jew, I think I may well be a Jew.”
“I have always have been scared of you.” Relate to me.
“Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.” That quote just stood out to me.
“And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,” At that point the writer decided to rise above.
“Daddy, Daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”
“I used to pray to recover you.” I used to do that, and I still do that today.
“I thought every German was you.” When a girl grows up, she looks for a man that is like her father. It it’s a good reputation, she looks for that. The same goes for if it’s a bad reputation.
Not only that we began to act on how we were taught or loved. For example, the writer wrote, “I began to talk like a Jew, I think I may well be a Jew.”
“I have always have been scared of you.” Relate to me.
“Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.” That quote just stood out to me.
“And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,” At that point the writer decided to rise above.
“Daddy, Daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”
January 26, 2026
4.5/5
Class is back in session! This being one of the first poems to cover in the class was so interesting. I found the exploration of Sylvia's relationship with her father to be unexpected and rather shocking, having not have thought of their relationship being anything but good prior to reading it. Though, I am obsessed with the stanza's and how she is able to really look into her parental relationship and identity.
Class is back in session! This being one of the first poems to cover in the class was so interesting. I found the exploration of Sylvia's relationship with her father to be unexpected and rather shocking, having not have thought of their relationship being anything but good prior to reading it. Though, I am obsessed with the stanza's and how she is able to really look into her parental relationship and identity.
Displaying 1 - 29 of 88 reviews