Tag Archives: Sylvia Plath Poems

This was the land’s end: the last fingers, knuckled and …

In Benidorm there are melons, Whole donkey-carts full Of innumerable …

Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are …

All day she plays at chess with the bones of …

Haunched like a faun, he hooed From grove of moon-glint …

Outside in the street I hear A car door slam; …

You bring me good news from the clinic, Whipping off …

How the elements solidify! — The moonlight, that chalk cliff …

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with …

The day you died I went into the dirt, Into …

The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile …

The idiot bird leaps out and drunken leans Atop the …