Anne Sexton Poems
- 45 Mercy Street In my dream, drilling into the marrow of ...
- After Auschwitz Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. ...
- Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my ...
- Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) Consider a girl who keeps ...
- Admonitions To A Special Perso... Watch out for power, for ...
- Baby Picture It's in the heart of the grape where that smile...
- Music Swims Back To Me Wait Mister. Which way is home? They...
an American poet, known for her highly personal, confessional verse. She won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967. Themes of her poetry include her suicidal tendencies, long battle against depression and various intimate details from her private life, including her relationships with her husband and children.
Early Life and Family
Sexton was born in Newton, Massachusetts, and spent most of her life near Boston. In 1945, Sexton began attending a boarding school, Rogers Hall, in Lowell, Massachusetts. For a time as a young woman, she modeled at Boston's Hart Agency. She eloped in 1948 with Alfred Muller Sexton, known as 'Kayo.' Before their divorce in the early 1970s, ... more »
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Quotationsmore quotations »
''“As it has been said:Anne Sexton
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.”''
''“Watch out for intellect,Anne Sexton, The Complete Poems
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.” ''
''“Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.” ''Anne Sexton
“Anne, I dont want to live. . . . Now listen, life is lovely, but I Cant Live It. I cant even explain. I know how silly it sounds . . . but if you knew how it Felt. To be alive, yes, alive, but not be...Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters
''“As for me, I am a watercolor.Anne Sexton
I wash off.” ''
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 -
namely MERCY STREET.
I try the Back Bay.
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,
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the ...