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May 16th, 2012 - we have 234 poets, 8,025 poems and 32,931 comments.
Anne Sexton - Young

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling over me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother's window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father's window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman's yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and the painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 35955 times | Comments and analysis of Young by Anne Sexton Comments (32)

Young - Comments and Information

Poet: Anne Sexton
Poem: Young
Volume: All My Pretty Ones
Year: Published/Written in 1962
Poem of the Day: Dec 23 2008

Comment 32 of 32, added on February 10th, 2012 at 9:07 PM.
uiGmbzzi

One day bfoere my weekly appointment, my shrink steps out with his previous client, and said “Antonio, I would like you to meet Annie (Annie is a pseudo name I use because for some odd reason I´m not comfortable given my real name online)” I awkwardly said Hi and spoke in English since we are both from the States (he´s from Arizona and I from Fl) my shrink thought it would be a nice idea for us to meet and practice our English. We didn´t exchange numbers at that particular time since we are both seeing the same shrink, but during my next session my shrink asked me permission to give him my number. I should have said NO, but I agreed. Anyway, we met, went out, and it turns out that he doesn´t like me. I don´t know what I did wrong, but this experience wasn´t exactly a boost to my self-esteem. This is a great article and reminds me that “no one is a golden coin to be wanted by everyone.”

Abbu from Estonia
Comment 31 of 32, added on February 10th, 2012 at 5:03 AM.
vItHVkQAyIQY

Now we know who the senbsile one is here. Great post!

Rohit from Israel
Comment 30 of 32, added on December 14th, 2009 at 2:10 PM.
Young-All my pretty ones

She is still a child in this poem. She is purposfully obscuring the details of her relationship to her parents, but essentially realizing she is not quite an adult, but is past seeing her parents through rose-coloured glasses. That's why she tells her dreams goodnight.

M from United States

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