Anne Sexton

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

Anne Sexton Poems

1. Song For A Lady 8/7/2015
2. The Legend Of The One-Eyed Man 3/29/2010
3. The Child Bearers 3/29/2010
4. Some Foreign Letters 3/29/2010
5. The Fury Of Overshoes 3/29/2010
6. The Road Back 3/29/2010
7. The Fury Of Cooks 3/29/2010
8. Where I Live In This Honorable House Of The Laurel Tree 3/29/2010
9. The Errand 3/29/2010
10. The Fury Of Jewels And Coal 3/29/2010
11. The House 3/29/2010
12. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall 3/29/2010
13. The Break Away 3/29/2010
14. The Fallen Angels 3/29/2010
15. The Firebombers 3/29/2010
16. The Expatriates 3/29/2010
17. The Fury Of Earth 3/29/2010
18. The Kite 3/29/2010
19. The Bells 3/29/2010
20. The Stand-Ins 3/29/2010
21. Torn Down From Glory Daily 3/29/2010
22. The Balance Wheel 3/29/2010
23. The Moss Of His Skin 3/29/2010
24. The Waiting Head 3/29/2010
25. The Hangman 3/29/2010
26. The Touch 3/29/2010
27. Letter Written On A Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound 3/29/2010
28. Raccoon 3/29/2010
29. Old 3/29/2010
30. The Fury Of Sunrises 3/29/2010
31. The Fury Of Hating Eyes 3/29/2010
32. The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks 3/29/2010
33. The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts 3/29/2010
34. With Mercy For The Greedy 3/29/2010
35. The Fury Of Rain Storms 3/29/2010
36. The Gold Key 3/29/2010
37. Hutch 3/29/2010
38. The Children 3/29/2010
39. The Fury Of Abandonment 3/29/2010
40. For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach 3/29/2010
Best Poem of Anne Sexton

After Auschwitz

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.

Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.

And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.

Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say ...

Read the full of After Auschwitz

After Auschwitz

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

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