Anne Sexton

(9 November 1928 – 4 October 1974 / Newton, Massachusetts)

Anne Sexton Poems

1. Song For A Lady 8/7/2015
2. The House 3/29/2010
3. The Fury Of Cooks 3/29/2010
4. Where I Live In This Honorable House Of The Laurel Tree 3/29/2010
5. The Fury Of Jewels And Coal 3/29/2010
6. Some Foreign Letters 3/29/2010
7. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall 3/29/2010
8. The Break Away 3/29/2010
9. The Fallen Angels 3/29/2010
10. The Firebombers 3/29/2010
11. The Expatriates 3/29/2010
12. The Fury Of Earth 3/29/2010
13. The Child Bearers 3/29/2010
14. The Balance Wheel 3/29/2010
15. The Road Back 3/29/2010
16. The Waiting Head 3/29/2010
17. The Fury Of Overshoes 3/29/2010
18. Raccoon 3/29/2010
19. The Fury Of Sunrises 3/29/2010
20. The Fury Of Hating Eyes 3/29/2010
21. The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks 3/29/2010
22. The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts 3/29/2010
23. The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man 3/29/2010
24. With Mercy For The Greedy 3/29/2010
25. Hutch 3/29/2010
26. The Play 3/29/2010
27. The Gold Key 3/29/2010
28. The Children 3/29/2010
29. The Fury Of Abandonment 3/29/2010
30. The Evil Seekers 3/29/2010
31. The Angel Food Dogs 3/29/2010
32. The Consecrating Mother 3/29/2010
33. The Wedding Ring Dance 3/29/2010
34. Funnel 3/29/2010
35. The Moss Of His Skin 3/29/2010
36. The Division Of Parts 3/29/2010
37. The Errand 3/29/2010
38. The Hangman 3/29/2010
39. The Fury Of Guitars And Sopranos 3/29/2010
40. The Fury Of God's Good-Bye 3/29/2010
Best Poem of Anne Sexton

45 Mercy Street

In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign -
namely MERCY STREET.
Not there.

I try the Back Bay.
Not there.
Not there.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
the servants.
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the ...

Read the full of 45 Mercy Street

After Auschwitz

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

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