Anne Sexton

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

The Fury Of Sunsets


Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I've built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and sucks its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I'm living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I'd rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who's responsible?
eh?

Submitted: Monday, March 29, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Fury Of Sunsets by Anne Sexton )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  2. A Minor Bird, Robert Frost
  3. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  4. If, Rudyard Kipling
  5. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  6. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  7. The Moon, Henry David Thoreau
  8. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  9. Moonlit Night, Tu Fu
  10. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe

Poem of the Day

poet Tu Fu

Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Chang'an. By now,

...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Francis Ledwidge

 
[Hata Bildir]