Anne Sexton

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

Anne Sexton Poems

161. I Remember 3/29/2010
162. Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs 6/27/2006
163. Angels Of The Love Affair 6/27/2006
164. Consorting With Angels 7/11/2006
165. Demon 7/11/2006
166. An Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love 6/27/2006
167. The Truth The Dead Know 6/27/2006
168. And One For My Dame 6/27/2006
169. Her Kind 6/27/2006
170. The Kiss 6/27/2006
171. Despair 7/11/2006
172. All My Pretty Ones 3/29/2010
173. Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women 7/11/2006
174. A Curse Against Elegies 6/27/2006
175. Courage 7/11/2006
176. Music Swims Back To Me 6/27/2006
177. Buying The Whore 6/27/2006
178. Barefoot 6/27/2006
179. Christmas Eve 6/27/2006
180. Again And Again And Again 6/27/2006
181. Admonitions To A Special Person 6/27/2006
182. A Story For Rose On The Midnight Flight To Boston 6/27/2006
183. Baby Picture 6/27/2006
184. Cinderella 7/11/2006
185. Anna Who Was Mad 6/27/2006
186. Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) 6/27/2006
187. After Auschwitz 6/27/2006
188. 45 Mercy Street 6/27/2006

Comments about Anne Sexton

  • fleur de lys (7/25/2009 10:39:00 PM)

    She gets on my nerves too but I can't think of title 'The Awful Rowing Towards God' without smiling.

    34 person liked.
    64 person did not like.
  • Indigo Hawkins (2/15/2008 4:42:00 PM)

    Sexton gets on my nerves. A lot. Some of her witticisms are hilarious, though.

Best Poem of Anne Sexton

45 Mercy Street

In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I'm walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign -
Not there.

I try the Back Bay.
Not there.
Not there.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
the servants.
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the ...

Read the full of 45 Mercy Street

Music Swims Back To Me

Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me

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