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.
41. Crystal Gazer 9/19/2014
42. Cut 1/3/2003
43. Daddy 1/3/2003
44. Dark House 9/17/2014
45. Dark Wood, Dark Water 9/17/2014
46. Death &Amp; Co. 1/13/2003
47. Denouement Villanelle 9/19/2014
48. Departure 9/19/2014
49. Dialogue Between Ghost And Priest 1/3/2003
50. Dirge For A Joker 9/17/2014
51. Doom Of Exiles 9/17/2014
52. Doomsday 9/17/2014
53. Eavesdropper 9/19/2014
54. Edge 1/3/2003
55. Electra On Azalea Path 1/3/2003
56. Elm 1/3/2003
57. Event 9/17/2014
58. Fable Of The Rhododendron Stealers 9/19/2014
59. Face Lift 9/19/2014
60. Face Lift 1/1/2004
61. Family Reunion 9/19/2014
62. Faun 1/3/2003
63. Female Author 9/17/2014
64. Fever 103 Deg. 1/3/2003
65. Fiesta Melons 1/3/2003
66. Finisterre 9/17/2014
67. Firesong 9/17/2014
68. Flute Notes From A Reedy Pond 9/19/2014
69. For A Fatherless Son 9/17/2014
70. Frog Autumn 3/6/2015
71. Full Fathom Five 1/3/2003
72. Getting There 1/1/2004
73. Gigolo 1/3/2003
74. Goatsucker 1/3/2003
75. Gold Mouths Cry 9/17/2014
76. Green Rock, Winthrop Bay 9/19/2014
77. Gulliver 9/17/2014
78. Hardcastle Crags 9/17/2014
79. Heavy Woman 9/19/2014
80. I Am Vertical 1/3/2003
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

Jilted

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

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