For Three Word Wednesday, prompt words clench, faint, prod. Also submitted to dVerse OpenLinkNight.
First Love
That Florida summer, the year
you moved in next door, we’d crawl
under the barbed wire fence
to meet each morning
in the hayfield,
prodded by some power
neither of us understood.
With clenched hands we’d
clumsily kiss, and in the faint
daylight return our
separate ways. Summer passed,
and now I can’t even remember
your name.
My Tiny Throes 
I love the pauses and run-ons..jagged like excited breath..I bet their name is under that barbed wire fence..waiting..to be..collected..Jae
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aw how sweet.
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Nico, I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this poem. It makes me feel warm and wonderful inside. There really was something so very special about young love…and so true that now one can't even remember some of the names!
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this is lovely….crawling under the barbed wire fence to meet each morning…sweet summer love…brought back some memories…yet i remember his name…smiles… never been to florida so far..but def. on my loooong list of places to visit..smiles
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Awww…. young love. So intense, so fleeting.
This is lovely.
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I love it. I remember those summer romances and the names evade me, too. Of course, it was sooo long ago. :0)
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Love this remembering of summers past.
I remember young love too and have not forgotten the names…
Anna :o]
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No name, but at least you still have the good memories!
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They may have left names for posterity, but it's probably just as well to remain nameless.
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Thanks Sheilagh.
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Thanks Mary, I'm happy to be able to evoke such pleasant emotions.
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oh dang….cant remember her name…smiles…sound like quite the adventure though…fraught with danger like barbed wire….got a nice scar from that….i lived in florida for a few years….
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Claudia, thank you. Not much barbed wire left in my hometown, sad to say. Just souvenir shops and T-shirt stands.
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Intense and fleeting. Those adjectives so often go together. Thanks Bren.
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Thanks Victoria–yeah, I guess I'm getting old, forgetting names but not forgetting the kiss!
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Thanks Anna. My only excuse for not remembering is that I didn't think it was important at the time.
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Robyn, thanks.
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Thanks Brian–growing up, I didn't know there even was any other kind of fence.
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I could weep over memories like that as I struggle to recall the name of one who kissed so freely. Does she remember mine?
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Aww young love …. Sweet… Sad you can't remember her name.
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Thanks Rob–yes, your question is something I thought about. Another subject for another poem, no doubt.
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Ayala, thank you.
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Hilarious and artful!! I had a good laugh.
Either names aren't important, or our passion more important than the person, or memory sucks.
Or all three, eh?
🙂
Superb again, Nico
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ahhh… a sweet and lovely memory
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This is lovely and real – how does it happen? Not the meeting at dawn, the dimming at dusk! Though I don't think you're at dusk! k.
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Who does not remember the name of their first love? Hmmm. You inspired me to google mine and lo and behold, he has done well:)
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Thanks Sabio. I think in this case your last two options definitely apply. The only lover's name I'm required to remember is my wife's!
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Thank you, RMP. A little bit fictionalized, like most of what I write, but based in a true event anyway.
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Thanks k.–the sunset years are closer than ever, as the growing gray in my beard can attest.
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Thanks R. Yes, it does not speak highly of me for forgetting her name, but I can tell you exactly what her lips looked like! (And please tell me that I have not created yet another Google stalker.)
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As for the first one, I work in medicine where I can't remember everyone's name. But when I see them, sit down and start talking, (or see their chart), tons of info come back to my memory well before the name does.
The name of a person, or a thing, really is only important to talk to others, but not to know that person or thing.
That is what I meant by that.
Besides my wife's name, I try to remember the kids' too. For some reason, they all seem to care and don't understand my above point at all when I forget. 🙂 !!
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Does it make one a stalker looking up your first boy friend? Hardly. Stalking is hacking into the someone's computer,turning on the skype and listening to them and watching them unbeknowns to them. Yes, it has happened to me…amazing that words can inspire people to commit these cyber crimes
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Ha! Names are interesting. Most people feel slighted when their names aren't remembered, but who can remember every name? I do make a real effort to remember people's names nowadays, and most of the time can even remember all the kids' names!
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Yikes! Yeah, that goes way beyond a Google search. Now you've got me paranoid–maybe I should put a piece of tape over the camera lens! Then again, there wouldn't be much to see if someone hacked in to spy on me–some hippy-looking hillbilly trying to assemble words into some kind of meaning is not really that interesting!
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Thou be a better man than me!
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Yes do! A hippy looking hillbilly who writes poetry could easily be a fruitcake's lustful obsession dawlin'.
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[Sound of duct tape being firmly applied]
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Good one Nico! The only thing I remember about my first love is that she was a girl !!
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Oh, I love the way you write! A perfect summer of youth, captured. (and I LOVE historic Savannah, GA)
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Thank you, Margaret. Savannah has been home for the last 13 yrs. or so, and I have learned to love being here.
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I was quite captivated with the original layout and had fun on the ghost walks, although I don't really ever believe them. I loved Bonaventure Cemetery.
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June Middleton. 1966.
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Hey, now you're just showing off!
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