Sylvia Plath

(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963 / Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts)

Sylvia Plath Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. A Birthday Present 1/1/2004
2. A Lesson In Vengeance 1/13/2003
3. A Life 1/13/2003
4. A Sorcerer Bids Farewell To Seem 9/17/2014
5. A Winter Ship 9/17/2014
6. Aftermath 1/3/2003
7. Alicante Lullaby 9/17/2014
8. All The Dead Dears 9/17/2014
9. Amnesiac 9/19/2014
10. Among The Narcissi 1/3/2003
11. An Appearance 1/3/2003
12. Apprehensions 1/3/2003
13. April 18 1/3/2003
14. April Aubade 9/17/2014
15. Aquatic Nocturne 9/17/2014
16. Ariel 1/3/2003
17. Balloons 1/3/2003
18. Battle-Scene From The Comic Operatic Fantasy The Seafarer 9/19/2014
19. Berck-Plage 1/3/2003
20. Black Pine Tree In An Orange Light 9/17/2014
21. Black Rook In Rainy Weather 1/3/2003
22. Blackberrying 1/3/2003
23. Blue Moles 9/17/2014
24. Bluebeard 9/17/2014
25. Brasilia 9/19/2014
26. Bucolics 1/3/2003
27. Burning The Letters 9/17/2014
28. By Candlelight 1/3/2003
29. Candles 9/17/2014
30. 'Célibataire' 9/19/2014
31. Channel Crossing 9/19/2014
32. Child 1/3/2003
33. Childless Woman 9/17/2014
34. Child's Park Stones 9/19/2014
35. Cinderella 1/3/2003
36. Contusion 1/3/2003
37. Conversation Among The Ruins 1/3/2003
38. Crossing The River 1/3/2003
39. Crossing The Water 1/13/2003
40. Crystal Gazer 9/19/2014
Best Poem of Sylvia Plath

Cinderella

The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span

The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,

And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince

As amid the hectic music and cocktail ...

Read the full of Cinderella

Perseus

The Triumph of Wit Over Suffering

Head alone shows you in the prodigious act
Of digesting what centuries alone digest:
The mammoth, lumbering statuary of sorrow,
Indissoluble enough to riddle the guts
Of a whale with holes and holes, and bleed him white
Into salt seas. Hercules had a simple time,
Rinsing those stables: a baby's tears would do it.

[Hata Bildir]