Annie Easily Unraveled Poem – About Anne Sexton

Annie Easily Unraveled Poem – About Anne Sexton

Annie Easily Unraveled

Pages rubbed away from my past,

a deft yearning to pick the correct thrust . . .

it matters greatly that I assume

a proper elegance, because any lie

can be acceptable if delivered

with a respectable decorum.

 

And pages always swirled down

the pathways of my life; I now understand

the only control I possess means sorting and re-sorting the past, those multicolored leaves meant

to decorate the various trails through history.

 

How does one construct an argument

uttered so precisely it will propound

the annals of correct acts by human beings?

This remains my obsession, perhaps my undoing,

as women like me can be easily unraveled

by the pheromone desire to survive into other centuries.

 

So if words can be slingshotted like tiny satellites

far into the future, carrying some cryptic pictogram

of the true intentions of the human race—

all our millions of desires simplified into a few

respectable drawings on newly discovered metal

alloys – if words can truly do this for me,

 

than it’s worth any effort

to elegantly pick through all these pages

and try to place some distinct order

on how I want to be remembered

in the teeming with all the other aspirants.

I suspect my ledger still balances favorably,

regardless of my current understanding.

Anne Sexton (1928-1974) was an American poet known for her unadulterated chronicling of intimate and socially taboo subjects.  She won the Pulitzer in 1967 for “Love or Die,” and gave her answer to that title in 1974 with her death by her own hand. She once wrote of frequent drinking dates at the Ritz with Sylvia Plath: “Often, very often, Sylvia and I would talk at length about our first suicides; at length, in detail, and in depth between the free potato chips. Suicide is, after all, the opposite of a poem.”

Anne Sexton Quotes:

Live or die, But don’t poison everything.

Well, one gets out of bed and the planets dont always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that’s saying a lot.

It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.

I cannot promise very much. I give you the images I know. Lie still with me and watch. We laugh and we touch. I promise you love. Time will not take that away.

 

 

Dancing in Front of the Glacier Poem

Dancing in Front of the Glacier Poem from History of Souls Book

If anything, the dead ones remain quite
persistent, or maybe always keen,
to arrive at something succinct—
the word, the precise phrase, the cajoling—
producing the correct apprehension.

“If you consider
a dance of players,” the dead
ones illustrate, “say, at the base
of a glacier, a ballet of exquisite
limbs, with purity of flesh raised
in an art of physics; see them
play, watch them perform, tapity tap,
and then remove all the bodies
from this scene . . .

what is left in front of the glacier
is us.”

But who can buy such pleasantries?
As if so much importance must be
placed on actually seeing the dead ones . . .

such ingratitude disquiets
them greatly.

Ward Kelley

Ward Kelley has seen his stories and poems appear in hundreds of journals world wide. He is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee whose publication credits include such journals as: Plainsongs, Karamu, Another Chicago Magazine, Strange Horizons, Spillway, GSU Review, Rattle, The Chaffin Journal, Midstream, Zuzu’s Petals, Ginger Hill, Sunstone, Pif, Whetstone, Melic Review, Thunder Sandwich, Potpourri and Skylark. The recipient of the Nassau Review Poetry Award for 2001, Kelley is also the author of “histories of souls,” a poetry collection, and he has an epic poem, “comedy incarnate” on CD and CD ROM.

Kelley holds a Masters of Creative Writing. He published two novels “Divine Murder” and “Keenly Alive, Tony.” He also published two management theory books, “Warehouse Productivity” (2005Distribution Group, New York NY), and “Zen of Warehouse Management” (2005Distribution Group, New York NY), under the name Pat Kelley.

history of souls – 2nd Edition

history of souls – 2nd Edition

$2.99
Author:
Genre: Poetry

Poetry concerning magical realism, reincarnation and metaphysics.

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Histories of Souls Paperback

Histories of Souls Paperback

Author:
Genre: Poetry

Enter the soulful world of Ward Kelley as he poetically pens epiphanies enriched by the historical figures of yesteryear.

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Buy from Amazon Kindle
Buy from Amazon
Divine Murder: A theological science fiction/fantasy

Divine Murder: A theological science fiction/fantasy

eBook: $5.99

A theological science fiction/fantasy. Experience the most sinister plot in the history of humanity – fanatics discover how to physically murder God. A search for God by going to the opposite extreme.

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Buy from Amazon Kindle
Gnarled Bones Album

Gnarled Bones Album

Audiobook: $6.99

Gnarled Bones is a song about a man searching for his soul mate. He carries a sadness from this – which he calls ‘gnarled bones’ – with him throughout his life, sometimes catching echoes of her from a past life with his true love. Follow this man’s journey as he searches . . . and concludes he’s a better man for the journey.

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Faith Must Stay Alive  Doc Holliday Poem

Faith Must Stay Alive Doc Holliday Poem

Faith Must Stay Alive

I saw it as a proof, an odd, awkward
proof, one as disabled as I myself became, but

but proof all the same, this odds-defying
fact that I am still alive after all my attempts

to un-cheat death, if you will.
Your faith in me has proved out,

as if all recipients of faith
must stay alive long enough to either
confirm or at last disprove the merits

of this trust . . . so now I can see it, this trust
you placed in me . . . and I finally realized

if I truly want to die, I must now admit
to myself what you have known
since our childhood.

Artist’s note:

John Henry Holliday (1851-1887), known throughout the West as Doc Holliday,was born in Georgia and educated as a dentist in Pennsylvania.  Diagnosed with tuberculosis in 1873 and given only a half-year to live, he moved west, hoping to extend his life a few months in the dry climate.  Already condemned to a slow, painful death, Holliday knew no fear in dangerous situations, and his fame grew;  he teamed up with the Earp brothers during the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and many historians place the amount of men he killed in the 30s.  The only fellow Georgian Holliday continued to contact after he went west was his cousin, Mattie Holliday. Shortly after Doc contracted tuberculosis and left Georgia, Mattie too left their childhood world to become a Sister of Charity, entering an Atlanta convent. No correspondence between the two has survived, but it’s safe to say she had a profound impact on Doc, in that even though he had been raised a Presbyterian, it was revealed after his death at Glenwood Springs, Colorado, that he had recently been baptized in the Catholic faith.

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