Poems About Anne Sexton Seeking Friendly Advice
#AnneSexton
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
1st Nov 2019 1:28am
1st Nov 2019 1:28am
The Double Image (Portraits)
I made you to find me'
'It doesn't matter if there are wars,
the business of life continues
unless you're the one that gets it'
-Anne Sexton
I went around in circles writing the empty vernacular,
writing it out in reams until it stood for something.
The dead heart followed along, musing me.
Why are the words so empty?
They echo, those words, rat-tat-tat and ka-ching
as the hills of my mother's bounty became flattened.
Each faint pulse of her heart, a wind of the ribbon ink,
and sentences...
'It doesn't matter if there are wars,
the business of life continues
unless you're the one that gets it'
-Anne Sexton
I went around in circles writing the empty vernacular,
writing it out in reams until it stood for something.
The dead heart followed along, musing me.
Why are the words so empty?
They echo, those words, rat-tat-tat and ka-ching
as the hills of my mother's bounty became flattened.
Each faint pulse of her heart, a wind of the ribbon ink,
and sentences...
#mother
#death
#suicide
#cancer
#AnneSexton
629 reads
8 Comments
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
20th Oct 2019 3:58am
20th Oct 2019 3:58am
Just Once (Living River Of Hell)
The trouble with being a woman, Skeezix,
is being a little girl in the first place'
'If this is Hell, then Hell could not be much,
neither as special or as ugly as I was told.'
-Anne Sexton
I am diagnosed dragging on a Camel,
staring at the river, full of all the selves
of detachmemt from my actual one.
They used to be me as one self when I was
fused into the wall of my mother,
before I came here to this bridge.
I am deranging like the splitting haloes
of car headlights...
is being a little girl in the first place'
'If this is Hell, then Hell could not be much,
neither as special or as ugly as I was told.'
-Anne Sexton
I am diagnosed dragging on a Camel,
staring at the river, full of all the selves
of detachmemt from my actual one.
They used to be me as one self when I was
fused into the wall of my mother,
before I came here to this bridge.
I am deranging like the splitting haloes
of car headlights...
#dark
#death
#river
#memories
#AnneSexton
826 reads
19 Comments
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
29th Aug 2019 2:39am
29th Aug 2019 2:39am
The Awful Rowing (Toward God)
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know'
-Anne Sexton
Where is God, what sun, what moon
towed the misogyny
to leave me here in his blood?
The far off island of blinking starlight
winks and carries me off:
I am floating, I am rowing.
Seeking, I am always seeking;
such tedious labor to play this game.
He is receding as I push on to his
island in the sun
inhaling its fishy, sour sobriety.
My skin is removed of its endurance,
I am raw, blistered in the...
heard by the deaf,
I do not know'
-Anne Sexton
Where is God, what sun, what moon
towed the misogyny
to leave me here in his blood?
The far off island of blinking starlight
winks and carries me off:
I am floating, I am rowing.
Seeking, I am always seeking;
such tedious labor to play this game.
He is receding as I push on to his
island in the sun
inhaling its fishy, sour sobriety.
My skin is removed of its endurance,
I am raw, blistered in the...
#death
#God
#confessional #AnneSexton
#confessional #AnneSexton
1548 reads
10 Comments
PoetsRevenge
Poem Published
13th Aug 2019 4:40am
13th Aug 2019 4:40am
Menstruation At Forty (Spider's Curse)
Stung to death,
an ill begotten fate,
sisters in tangled limb,
sisters in wombs' blood
rendered of yesterdays
remains still hunted.
Weaving angels
hover over the early death
trapped, entangled,
consumed in poison,
wrists bound together
praying for new life.
Son, beseeching
all I have acquired of you,
You, whom the dusky late hours have made,
You, whom I lusted for and listened for
rattling as bells toll,
clocks revealing our closeness in hour,
our embrace before ...
an ill begotten fate,
sisters in tangled limb,
sisters in wombs' blood
rendered of yesterdays
remains still hunted.
Weaving angels
hover over the early death
trapped, entangled,
consumed in poison,
wrists bound together
praying for new life.
Son, beseeching
all I have acquired of you,
You, whom the dusky late hours have made,
You, whom I lusted for and listened for
rattling as bells toll,
clocks revealing our closeness in hour,
our embrace before ...
#women
#death
#AnneSexton
889 reads
6 Comments
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
jade tiger
Poem Published
3rd Aug 2019 5:47pm
3rd Aug 2019 5:47pm
Witch
In the deep black unfathomable
where nothing burns of where there is no air,
in the white ashes unreadable
as others cannot see yet still they stare,
in evening’s wicked, winding stir.
A female muse like that without a care.
I have been like her.
I possess, endowed, an evil spree,
insanity, my bent of village spells
on every inhabitant and flea;
my brewing for the vermin with me dwells,
from cavern home the smell’s allure.
A female like that is a mystery.
I have been like her. ...
where nothing burns of where there is no air,
in the white ashes unreadable
as others cannot see yet still they stare,
in evening’s wicked, winding stir.
A female muse like that without a care.
I have been like her.
I possess, endowed, an evil spree,
insanity, my bent of village spells
on every inhabitant and flea;
my brewing for the vermin with me dwells,
from cavern home the smell’s allure.
A female like that is a mystery.
I have been like her. ...
#women
#death
#LifeStruggles
#witches
#AnneSexton
965 reads
17 Comments
Heaven_sent_Kathy
Poem Published
2nd Aug 2019 00:54am
2nd Aug 2019 00:54am
Girlfriends
( after Anne Sexton )
‘Death’, sounds almost tender
and childlike when I say the name,
rhyming as it does with ‘breath’,
A life force unlike, lesser the end,
when a door is pried open
with a common kitchen utensil.
I didn’t pay attention and failed,
leaving me to salvage
Plath’s words before her last,
When we’d speak of it many times,
as fireflies, like girlfriends,
sending up smoke rings to be the first.
Now I jealously guard the rite
while I still have life and a history,
and can...
‘Death’, sounds almost tender
and childlike when I say the name,
rhyming as it does with ‘breath’,
A life force unlike, lesser the end,
when a door is pried open
with a common kitchen utensil.
I didn’t pay attention and failed,
leaving me to salvage
Plath’s words before her last,
When we’d speak of it many times,
as fireflies, like girlfriends,
sending up smoke rings to be the first.
Now I jealously guard the rite
while I still have life and a history,
and can...
#suicide
#fate
#SylviaPlath #AnneSexton
#SylviaPlath #AnneSexton
908 reads
5 Comments
thepositivelydark
Poem Published
8th Dec 2016 10:29am
8th Dec 2016 10:29am
For Them, Who Cannot Keep Me Any Longer
She is all there.
...
She is, in fact, exquisite.
...
Let's face it, I have been momentary,
A luxury.
...
She is solid.
As for me, I am watercolor.
I wash off.
- "For My Lover, Returning to His Wife," Anne Sexton
You have such a way with words, honey.
Such a way with words.
They billow out of your mouth,
Stained with the color of her lips.
I see it.
I hear her say your prayers every night.
And how they all fall into
Pages of binding
Signed with your names.
...
...
She is, in fact, exquisite.
...
Let's face it, I have been momentary,
A luxury.
...
She is solid.
As for me, I am watercolor.
I wash off.
- "For My Lover, Returning to His Wife," Anne Sexton
You have such a way with words, honey.
Such a way with words.
They billow out of your mouth,
Stained with the color of her lips.
I see it.
I hear her say your prayers every night.
And how they all fall into
Pages of binding
Signed with your names.
...
#AnneSexton
896 reads
7 Comments
goldenmyst
Poem Published
4th Oct 2015 6:37pm
4th Oct 2015 6:37pm
Strangers in the Night
Strangers in the Night
I love the smell of books. I think that, even more than my love of literature, may be the reason I work in a used book store. That and because it is so quiet. I love quiet places where I find I can think more clearly. I know people who crave noise and feel lonely in places like this book store.
However, I feel right at home among the books of Pablo Neruda and Anne Sexton two of my favorite authors among the many represented in the stacks of this antiquarian book store. The books are like companions to me. I feel as though I am in the company of the...
I love the smell of books. I think that, even more than my love of literature, may be the reason I work in a used book store. That and because it is so quiet. I love quiet places where I find I can think more clearly. I know people who crave noise and feel lonely in places like this book store.
However, I feel right at home among the books of Pablo Neruda and Anne Sexton two of my favorite authors among the many represented in the stacks of this antiquarian book store. The books are like companions to me. I feel as though I am in the company of the...
#AnneSexton
1176 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Anne Sexton Seeking Friendly Advice
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