All Poems
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Lullaby
© Anne Sexton
It is a summer evening.
The yellow moths sag
against the locked screens
and the faded curtains
The Death Baby
© Anne Sexton
I was an ice baby.
I turned to sky blue.
My tears became two glass beads.
My mouth stiffened into a dumb howl.
They say it was a dream
but I remember that hardening.
The Knitters
© Padraic Colum
WATER, I did not seek you,
Water of hollow stone;
I crossed no one's acre to find you
You were where my geese lie down.
Cockroach
© Anne Sexton
Roach, foulest of creatures,
who attacks with yellow teeth
and an army of cousins big as shoes,
you are lumps of coal that are mechanized
Psalm LXXXIV. (84)
© John Milton
How lovely are thy dwellings fair!
O Lord of Hoasts, how dear
The pleasant Tabernacles are!
Where thou do'st dwell so near.
More Than Myself
© Anne Sexton
Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
At The Sign Of The Skull
© Madison Julius Cawein
_It's "Gallop and go!" and "Slow, now, slow!"
With every man in this life below--
But the things of this world are a fleeting show._
Christmas Eve
© Anne Sexton
Oh sharp diamond, my mother!
I could not count the cost
of all your faces, your moods--
that present that I lost.
Demon
© Anne Sexton
I mentioned my demon to a friend
and the friend swam in oil and came forth to me
greasy and cryptic
and said,
"I'm thinking of taking him out of hock.
I pawned him years ago."
As It Was Written
© Anne Sexton
Earth, earth,
riding your merry-go-round
toward extinction,
right to the roots,
Invocation
© Alfred Austin
Where Apennine slopes unto Tuscan plain,
And breaks into dimples, and laughs to flowers,
To see where the terrors of Winter wane,
And out of a valley of grape and grain
There blossoms a City of domes and towers,
Hurry Up Please It's Time
© Anne Sexton
What is death, I ask.
What is life, you ask.
I give them both my buttocks,
my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.
Live
© Anne Sexton
Live or die, but don't poison everything...Well, death's been here
for a long time --
it has a hell of a lot
to do with hell
Despair
© Anne Sexton
All right!
I'll take you along on the trip
where for so many years
my arms have been speechless
The Fallen Angels
© Anne Sexton
O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
into the grave.
The Mother
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
LAST night he lay within my arm,
So small, so warm, a mystery
To which God only held the key
But mine to keep from fear and harm!
Consorting With Angels
© Anne Sexton
I was tired of being a woman,
tired of the spoons and the post,
tired of my mouth and my breasts,
tired of the cosmetics and the silks.
Her Face.
© Robert Crawford
There is a something in her face
Which in no other I can trace,
And feelings sweet as music stir
When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,
I Remember
© Anne Sexton
By the first of August
the invisible beetles began
to snore and the grass was
as tough as hemp and was
