Poems About Anne Sexton Published by Members Recently Online
#AnneSexton
buddhakitty
Poem Published
9th Mar 2024 5:34pm
9th Mar 2024 5:34pm
unsane
searching for what
was never lost
but can not
be found
was never lost
but can not
be found
#AnneSexton
80 reads
11 Comments
Indie
Miss Indie
Miss Indie
Poem Published
17th Oct 2012 9:31am
17th Oct 2012 9:31am
used bubble gum and discarded cigarette butts
"For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling." – Anne Sexton
You shatter my breath
with three little words
and fuck me from the inside
with hate
and still
I cannot get enough
of you
I huddle like a lonely cigarette
left in the street lit rain
wilted and useless
decaying in a discoloured mess
into the saliva drenched side walk
I’m the shadow of a woman
that could be
if she dared to look up and confront ...
You shatter my breath
with three little words
and fuck me from the inside
with hate
and still
I cannot get enough
of you
I huddle like a lonely cigarette
left in the street lit rain
wilted and useless
decaying in a discoloured mess
into the saliva drenched side walk
I’m the shadow of a woman
that could be
if she dared to look up and confront ...
#AnneSexton
818 reads
4 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
Sexton
Always in black-and-white, she sits,
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
#depression
#MentalHealth
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
174 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
Sexton
Always in black-and-white, she sits,
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
#depression
#MentalHealth
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
174 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
Sexton
Always in black-and-white, she sits,
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
#depression
#MentalHealth
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
174 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
10th Jan 2023 3:14pm
Sexton
Always in black-and-white, she sits,
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
smoking a cigarette, one leg protruding
as if a sculptor caught motion, and fits
a chisel to a thigh. Both grave-digging
and bell-ringing make up the sexton’s life.
But wrongly called both succubus and wife.
She would have lit up Salem like a knife
revealed by moonlight in the house.
Misogynistic fantasies crowd on
the Massachusetts tomb; a mouse
dries out upon its palindrome, the sun
revolving ‘round the name RAT’S STAR.
Where need is never quite belief, come far
but...
#depression
#MentalHealth
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
#WritingPoetry #AnneSexton
174 reads
2 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
1113 reads
4 Comments
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
569 reads
8 Comments
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
569 reads
8 Comments
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
569 reads
8 Comments
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
569 reads
8 Comments
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
569 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Anne Sexton Published by Members Recently Online
#AnneSexton is curated by Ahavati.
