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 Death of Marilyn Monroe 6/12/2015
18. The End 1/13/2003
19. The Ferryer 1/20/2003
20. The Flurry 5/27/2015
21. The Knowing 4/3/2015
22. The Mortal One 1/13/2003
23. The Pact 11/19/2011
24. The Sash 1/13/2003
25. The Space Heater 1/13/2003
26. The Unborn 1/13/2003
27. The Victims 1/7/2004
28. Topography 11/19/2011
29. Unspeakable 5/27/2015
30. 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 Space Heater

On the then-below-zero day, it was on,
near the patients' chair, the old heater
kept by the analyst's couch, at the end,
like the infant's headstone that was added near the foot
of my father's grave. And it was hot, with the almost
laughing satire of a fire's heat,
the little coils like hairs in Hell.
And it was making a group of sick noises-
I wanted the doctor to turn it off

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