Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton

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1. Sleep she was a short one Getting fat and she had once been Beautiful and She drank the wine She drank the wine in bed and Talked and screamed and cursed at Me And i told her Please, I need some Sleep. -sleep? sleep? ya son of a Bitch, ya never sleep, ya Don’t need any […]...
2. MEMORIES OF THE FIFTIES Eggshell and Wedgwood Blue were just two Of the range on the colour cards Dulux Tailored to our taste in the fifties, Brentford nylons, Formica table tops and Fablon shelf-covering in original oak or Spruce under neon tubes and Dayglo shades. Wartime brown and green went out, along with The Yorkist Range, the wire-mesh food […]...
3. Mountain Drinking Song To drown the ancient sorrows, We drank a hundred jugs of wine There in the beautiful night. We couldn’t go to bed with the moon so bright. The finally the wine overcame us And we lay down on the empty mountain The earth for a pillow, And a blanket made of heaven...
4. On Reading Omar Khayyam [During an anti-saloon campaign, in central Illinois.] In the midst of the battle I turned, (For the thunders could flourish without me) And hid by a rose-hung wall, Forgetting the murder about me; And wrote, from my wound, on the stone, In mirth, half prayer, half play: – “Send me a picture book, Send me […]...
5. Sky Song The flower of the Alps told the seashell: “You’re shining” The seashell told the sea: “You echo” The sea told the boat: “You’re shuddering” The boat told the fire: “You’re glowing brightly” The fire told me: “I glow less brightly than her eyes” The boat told me: “I shudder less than your heart does when […]...
6. Memories of West Street and Lepke Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming In pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough Street,” Where even the man Scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans, Has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate, And is “a young Republican.” I have a nine months’ daughter, […]...
7. To My Little Niece Anne Duyckinck To his charming black-eyed niece Uncle Harry wishest peace! Wishes roses over strow’d O’er her sublunary road! No rude winds around her howl, O’er her head no tempests scowl; No red lightnings flash around, No loud thunders rock the ground! Bright has been her morning sun, Brighter still be that to come! All a blue […]...
8. The Drunken Fisherman Wallowing in this bloody sty, I cast for fish that pleased my eye (Truly Jehovah’s bow suspends No pots of gold to weight its ends); Only the blood-mouthed rainbow trout Rose to my bait. They flopped about My canvas creel until the moth Corrupted its unstable cloth. A calendar to tell the day; A handkerchief […]...
9. To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the Blest; Whose palms, new pluck’d from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green above the rest: Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, Thou roll’st above us, in thy wand’ring race, Or, in procession fix’d and regular, Mov’d with […]...
10. A Man Young And Old: VI. His Memories We should be hidden from their eyes, Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector And that none living knows. The women take so little stock In what I do or say They’d sooner leave their cosseting To hear a jackass bray; My […]...
11. Dynamiter I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon Eating steak and onions. And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children And the cause of labor and the working class. It was laughter of an unshakable man knowing life to be A rich and red-blooded thing. Yes, his laugh rang […]...
12. What the Sexton Said Your dust will be upon the wind Within some certain years, Though you be sealed in lead to-day Amid the country’s tears. When this idyllic churchyard Becomes the heart of town, The place to build garage or inn, They’ll throw your tombstone down. Your name so dim, so long outworn, Your bones so near to […]...
13. Freedom he drank wine all night of the 28th, and he kept thinking of her: The way she walked and talked and loved The way she told him things that seemed true But were not, and he knew the color of each Of her dresses And her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of Each heel […]...
14. The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man For is it not his Bed His Advocate his Edifice? How safe his fallen Head In her disheveled Sanctity Above him is the sky Oblivion bending over him And Honor leagues away....
15. A Drunken Man's Praise Of Sobriety Come swish around, my pretty punk, And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill. Sobriety is a jewel That I do much adore; And therefore keep me dancing Though drunkards lie and snore. O mind your feet, O mind your feet, Keep dancing like a wave, […]...
16. Sexton! My Master's sleeping here Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here. Pray lead me to his bed! I came to build the Bird’s nest, And sow the Early seed That when the snow creeps slowly From off his chamber door Daisies point the way there And the Troubadour....
17. To Plath, To Sexton So what use was poetry To a white empty house? Wolf, swan, hare, In by the fire. And when your tree Crashed through your house, What use then Was all your power? It was the use of you. It was the flower....
18. Autumn Day Four Translations Lord: it is time. The summer was immense. Lay your shadow on the sundials And let loose the wind in the fields. Bid the last fruits to be full; Give them another two more southerly days, Press them to ripeness, and chase The last sweetness into the heavy wine. Whoever has no house […]...
19. Song of the Flower XXIII I am a kind word uttered and repeated By the voice of Nature; I am a star fallen from the Blue tent upon the green carpet. I am the daughter of the elements With whom Winter conceived; To whom Spring gave birth; I was Reared in the lap of Summer and I Slept in the […]...
20. New Mexico I was fairly drunk when it Began and I took out my bottle and used it Along the way. I was reading a week or two after Kandel and I did not look quite as Pretty but I brought it off and we Ended up at the Webbs, 6, 8, 10 of Us, and I […]...
21. Memories Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart was lead As by a magnet, and who are not dead, But absent, and their memories overgrown With other thoughts and troubles of my own, As graves with grasses are, and at their head The stone with moss and lichens so […]...
22. Girl (three) and the black horse i want to hold the horse’s string Cried the girl (three) stamping her foot Told by adults she was much too young The black horse stood staring at the wall It worries us you may get hurt The adults whispered – meaning to offer Comfort to the little madam (not convinced) The black horse stood […]...
23. Monte Carlo Memories We took turns Watching seagulls there Walking on A tilted shore Of ancient waves And modern ships Sparkling in a Merchant’s breeze- Holding hands And getting wet In Monte Carlo Memories: You and I washing In a crystal sunset....
24. A Descriptive Poem on the Silvery Tay Beautiful silvery Tay, With your landscapes, so lovely and gay, Along each side of your waters, to Perth all the way; No other river in the world has got scenery more fine, Only I am told the beautiful Rhine, Near to Wormit Bay, it seems very fine, Where the Railway Bridge is towering above its […]...
25. The Jumblies I They went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, ‘You’ll all be […]...
26. For Anne Gregory ‘Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.’ ‘But I can get a hair-dye And set such colour there, Brown, or black, or carrot, That young men in despair May love me for myself alone And not […]...
27. Anne Rutledge Out of me unworthy and unknown The vibrations of deathless music; ‘With malice toward none, with charity for all.’ Out of me the forgiveness of millions toward millions, And the beneficient face of a nation Shining with justice and truth. I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln, […]...
28. Anne Pennington Until her last breath she enlarges Her Oxford house Built in Slavonic Vowels and consonants She polishes the corner-stones Until their Anglo-Saxon shine Begins to sing Her death is like a short breath-stop Under the distant limetrees of her friends...
29. On The Death Of Anne Bronte There’s little joy in life for me, And little terror in the grave; I’ve lived the parting hour to see Of one I would have died to save. Calmly to watch the failing breath, Wishing each sigh might be the last; Longing to see the shade of death O’er those beloved features cast; The cloud, […]...
30. Michael Robartes And The Dancer He. Opinion is not worth a rush; In this altar-piece the knight, Who grips his long spear so to push That dragon through the fading light, Loved the lady; and it’s plain The half-dead dragon was her thought, That every morning rose again And dug its claws and shrieked and fought. Could the impossible come […]...
31. April 24 Did you know that Evian spelled backwards is naive? I myself was unaware of this fact until last Tuesday night When John Ashbery, Marc Cohen, and Eugene Richie Gave a poetry reading and I introduced them To an audience that already knew them, And there were bottles of Evian at the table. As air to […]...
32. Fable Oh, there once was a lady, and so I’ve been told, Whose lover grew weary, whose lover grew cold. “My child,” he remarked, “though our episode ends, In the manner of men, I suggest we be friends.” And the truest of friends ever after they were- Oh, they lied in their teeth when they told […]...
33. In Memory of M. B Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, Not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the end Your magnificent disdain. You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes, And suffocated inside stifling walls. Alone you let the terrible stranger in, And stayed with her alone. Now you’re gone, and nobody says […]...
34. A Satisfactory Reform A merry burgomaster In a burgh upon the Rhine Said, “Our burghers all are Far too fond of drinking wine.” So the merry burgomaster, When the burgomasters met, Bade them look into the matter Ere the thing went farther yet. And the merry burgomasters Did decide the only way To alleviate the evil Without worry […]...
35. The Maple The Maple Is a system of posture for wood. A way of not falling down For twigs that happens To benefit birds. I don’t know. I’m staring at a tree, At yellow leaves Threshed by wind and want you Reading this to be staring At the same tree. I could Cut it down and laminate […]...
36. Told The air lay soffly on the green fur Of the almond, it was April And I said, I begin again But my hands burned in the damp earth The light ran between my fingers A black light like no other This was not home, the linnet Settling on the oleander The green pod swelling The […]...
37. The Enemy My youth was nothing but a black storm Crossed now and then by brilliant suns. The thunder and the rain so ravage the shores Nothing’s left of the fruit my garden held once. I should employ the rake and the plow, Having reached the autumn of ideas, To restore this inundated ground Where the deep […]...
38. A Maiden's Secret I have written this day down in my heart As the sweetest day in the season; From all of the others I’ve set it apart – But I will not tell you the reason, That is my secret – I must not tell; But the skies are soft and tender, And never before, I know […]...
39. The Fury Of Guitars And Sopranos This singing Is a kind of dying, A kind of birth, A votive candle. I have a dream-mother Who sings with her guitar, Nursing the bedroom With a moonlight and beautiful olives. A flute came too, Joining the five strings, A God finger over the holes. I knew a beautiful woman once Who sang with […]...
40. I reckon when I count it all I reckon when I count it all First Poets Then the Sun Then Summer Then the Heaven of God And then the List is done But, looking back the First so seems To Comprehend the Whole The Others look a needless Show So I write Poets All Their Summer lasts a Solid Year They can […]...