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Sylvia Plath's Poetry, by title

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  • Or, cette jeune fille pointilleuse
    Lors d'une cérémonieuse promenade en avril
    29 lines
  • I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
    My heart within me like a stone
    7 lines, 2 comments
  • What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
    It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
    63 lines, 14 comments
  • In the dour ages
    Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
    26 lines, 2 comments
  • Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
    This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
    36 lines, 8 comments
  • A secret! A secret!
    How superior.
    58 lines
  • I'm through with this grand looking-glass hotel
    where adjectives play croquet with flamingo nouns;
    14 lines, 5 comments
  • At this wharf there are no grand landings to speak of.
    Red and orange barges list and blister
    30 lines
  • On Boston Common a red star
    Gleams, wired to a tall Ulmus
    43 lines
  • Here in this valley of discrete academies
    We have not mountains, but mounts, truncated hillocks
    58 lines, 1 comment
  • If you dissect a bird
    To diagram the tongue
    13 lines, 7 comments
  • Aerialist
    Each night, this adroit young lady
    56 lines
  • Compelled by calamity's magnet
    They loiter and stare as if the house
    14 lines, 3 comments
  • In Alicante they bowl the barrels
    Bumblingly over the nubs of the cobbles
    21 lines, 1 comment
  • Rigged poker -stiff on her back
    With a granite grin
    36 lines
  • No use, no use, now, begging Recognize!
    There is nothing to do with such a beautiful blank but smooth it.
    34 lines
  • Spry, wry, and gray as these March sticks,
    Percy bows, in his blue peajacket, among the narcissi.
    14 lines, 3 comments
  • The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
    Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
    18 lines, 4 comments
  • There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself-
    Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
    22 lines, 5 comments
  • the slime of all my yesterdays
    rots in the hollow of my skull
    16 lines, 1 comment
  • Worship this world of watercolor mood
    in glass pagodas hung with veils of green
    14 lines
  • deep in liquid
    turquoise slivers
    28 lines
  • Stasis in darkness.
    Then the substanceless blue
    31 lines, 8 comments
  • Since Christmas they have lived with us,
    Guileless and clear,
    31 lines, 2 comments
  • Empty, I echo to the least footfall,
    Museum without statues, grand with pillars, porticoes, rotundas.
    9 lines, 1 comment
  • It beguiles—
    This little Odyssey
    42 lines
  • (1)
    This is the sea, then, this great abeyance.
    133 lines, 1 comment
  • All morning in the strawberry field
    They talked about the Russians.
    44 lines, 2 comments
  • Tell me what you see in it :
    The pine tree like a Rorschach-blot
    18 lines
  • On the stiff twig up there
    Hunches a wet black rook
    48 lines, 2 comments
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