Sharon Olds

(November 19, 1942 / San Francisco)

Sharon Olds Poems

1. 1954 1/13/2003
2. A Week Later 1/13/2003
3. Crab 1/13/2003
4. Her First Week 11/28/2014
5. I Could Not Tell 11/19/2011
6. I Go Back To May 1937 11/19/2011
7. Japanese-American Farmhouse, California, 1942 1/20/2003
8. May 1968 1/20/2003
9. My Son The Man 1/7/2015
10. One Year 1/13/2003
11. Primitive 1/13/2003
12. Still Life In Landscape 11/19/2011
13. Take The I Out 1/20/2003
14. The Borders 1/13/2003
15. The Clasp 1/13/2003
16. The Daughter Goes To Camp 1/13/2003
17. The End 1/13/2003
18. The Ferryer 1/20/2003
19. The Knowing 4/3/2015
20. The Mortal One 1/13/2003
21. The Pact 11/19/2011
22. The Sash 1/13/2003
23. The Space Heater 1/13/2003
24. The Unborn 1/13/2003
25. The Victims 1/7/2004
26. Topography 11/19/2011
27. Voices 11/19/2011
Best Poem of Sharon Olds

The Unborn

Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.

Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing
In some antechamber - servants, half-
Listening for the bell.

Sometimes I see them lying like love letters
In the Dead Letter Office

And sometimes, like tonight, by some black
Second sight I can feel just one of them
Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea
In the dark, stretching its arms out
Desperately to me.

Read the full of The Unborn

The Borders

To say that she came into me,
from another world, is not true.
Nothing comes into the universe
and nothing leaves it.
My mother—I mean my daughter did not
enter me. She began to exist
inside me—she appeared within me.
And my mother did not enter me.
When she lay down, to pray, on me,

[Hata Bildir]