Anne Sexton

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

The Fury Of Sunsets - Poem by Anne Sexton

Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I've built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and sucks its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I'm living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I'd rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who's responsible?
eh?


Comments about The Fury Of Sunsets by Anne Sexton

  • Alem Hailu G/kristosAlem Hailu G/kristos (2/3/2020 9:05:00 AM)

    Yes your poem is delicious as the sunset (Report)Reply

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  • Edward Kofi LouisEdward Kofi Louis (1/17/2020 10:13:00 AM)

    " Why do i live in this house? "


    Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
    (Report)Reply

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  • Anil Kumar PandaAnil Kumar Panda (1/17/2020 8:19:00 AM)

    Very interesting poem. Loved to read it. Thanks for sharing. (Report)Reply

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  • Aniruddha PathakAniruddha Pathak (1/17/2020 3:23:00 AM)

    Meaning of life... a mute question...
    I hope heaven can answer..
    lovely poem...
    (Report)Reply

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  • Dominic Windram (1/17/2020 1:40:00 AM)

    A very surreal meditation on life; courtesty of Anne Sexton. (Report)Reply

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  • Mahtab BangaleeMahtab Bangalee (1/17/2020 12:37:00 AM)

    I could eat the sky
    like an apple /// wonderfully said; part of surrealism!
    (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 29, 2010



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