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. The Princess And The Goblins 12/28/2015
2. In Midas' Country 9/19/2014
3. New Year On Dartmoor 9/19/2014
4. On Deck 9/19/2014
5. The Net-Menders 9/19/2014
6. Incommunicado 9/19/2014
7. Terminal 9/17/2014
8. Brasilia 9/19/2014
9. Mussel Hunter At Rock Harbor 9/19/2014
10. Blue Moles 9/17/2014
11. Pheasant 9/17/2014
12. The Great Carbuncle 9/19/2014
13. Event 9/17/2014
14. The Shrike 9/19/2014
15. Letter To A Purist 9/19/2014
16. The Detective 9/19/2014
17. 'Célibataire' 9/19/2014
18. Parliament Hill Fields 9/19/2014
19. Prologue To Spring 9/19/2014
20. Owl 9/19/2014
21. Memoirs Of A Spinach-Picker 9/19/2014
22. Touch-And-Go 9/17/2014
23. Bluebeard 9/17/2014
24. The Snowman On The Moor 9/19/2014
25. Battle-Scene From The Comic Operatic Fantasy The Seafarer 9/19/2014
26. Eavesdropper 9/19/2014
27. Denouement Villanelle 9/19/2014
28. Alicante Lullaby 9/17/2014
29. The Death Of Myth-Making 9/19/2014
30. Natural History 9/19/2014
31. Aquatic Nocturne 9/17/2014
32. April Aubade 9/17/2014
33. Spider 8/8/2016
34. Waking In Winter 9/19/2014
35. The Tour 9/19/2014
36. Who 9/19/2014
37. Child's Park Stones 9/19/2014
38. To Eva Descending The Stair 9/17/2014
39. The Hermit At Outermost House 9/17/2014
40. Circus in Three Rings 8/29/2016

Comments about Sylvia Plath

  • Ronaldo (11/27/2017 5:04:00 PM)

    the poets are really beast

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Samantha Belk (11/16/2017 7:10:00 PM)

    It is my deepest conquest to understand the hidden link of such sorrow and solitude of Sylvia. I do believe she was suffering from such deep noted depression and acute social anxiety disorder. It is very clear that she was delusional and repressed. I will forever be touched by her poetry, I can relate with her emotional turmoil and inner burning hardship of emotions.

  • Doug Lewis (5/9/2017 6:15:00 PM)

    I am in love with a dead poet. Sylvia Plath's search for the perfect line involved sacrifice.
    She would have found that perfect line in her last few breaths. What a shame we never heard it.

  • MIKE TOPN B (9/11/2016 3:48:00 PM)

    Nice

  • Olorundare Tiwatope (4/27/2016 6:59:00 AM)

    A lady I love her works

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (1/18/2016 8:51:00 AM)

    '' The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me. ''
    [from 'The Bell Jar' (1963) ]

  • John Hardesty (5/20/2015 8:56:00 AM)

    Here we travel upon an old path,
    meditating on the poet, Sylvia Plath;
    A complicated lady, and driven poet,
    who's madness, and melancholy, for whom would never show it;
    Yet, like all poets, and writers,
    She became obsessed with something more mightier,
    For death, is never at limits to the truth,
    beckons the old, and brimming youth;
    Poets take up an oath and pen,
    dole out their wrenching soul until the end,
    as prose and poetry their only companions, and pain,
    for she engendered the recurrence of something that couldn't remain,
    whilst the gilded rose from Jamaica Plain,
    lives on through the pages of her God forsaken domain. _ John Hardesty

  • Gigi Levin Gigi Levin (9/16/2014 10:52:00 AM)

    Suze Collette, I cant click on them either. This is b/c if they provide the text, PoemHunter could face copyright issues. It pissed me off too.

  • D.l. Aceves D.l. Aceves (4/25/2014 9:41:00 AM)

    A nice reading on YouTube of Plath's poem 'Mad Girl's Love Song' here: https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=twIfwSvL9Uo

  • Cal Shummon (12/4/2013 12:06:00 PM)

    Beyond Humanity's Vision

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

Sheep In Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells -

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