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. Circus in Three Rings 8/29/2016
37. Contusion 1/3/2003
38. Conversation Among The Ruins 1/3/2003
39. Crossing The River 1/3/2003
40. Crossing The Water 1/13/2003

Comments about Sylvia Plath

  • Wolfgang John (3/11/2018 10:12:00 PM)

    https: //

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  • Wolfgang John (3/11/2018 10:12:00 PM)

    Sylvia Plath was the most vastly overrated poet who ever lived! As someone wrote not too long ago, if she hadn't stuck her head in an oven, no one would remember her,

  • Pat Norris (3/8/2018 6:45:00 PM)

    Sylvia Plath was the most vastly overrated poet who ever lived! As someone wrote not too long ago, if she hadn't stuck her head in an oven, no one would remember her,

  • Ronaldo (11/27/2017 5:04:00 PM)

    the poets are really beast

  • 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)


  • 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

Best Poem of Sylvia Plath


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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