Honey Sweet
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Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here.
We sat in a honeyed truck
one sweet sticky summer
when more than bees hummmed
in the old south 1960s
an old story, new for a girl just fourteen;
a story older than hate-
love, love came first.
I had confused stories in my head
all but one- a story about a summer,
bees and a kiss.
I hummed that summer-
sweet tea, bees, me a girl named Lily
loved by Seasons and a sweet boy
who gave me my first kiss
in the old south 1960s,
a story older than hate.
Honey sheen, and gold beams shone
that summer a sweet boy
gave me my first kiss.
linked with Susie's Secret Life of Bees prompt.
Love, love came first ~ Sweet as the first kiss ~ Happy Sunday ~
ReplyDeleteThis has brought me all out in goosebumps. I don't know of a better way to compliment your writing than to say the effect was more than cerebral.
ReplyDeleteAnd Kerry, you know how to encourage a poet sincerely. Thank you for the high compliment. I had hoped this simple take would be felt.
DeleteYes, young lady ... I felt your too. A blessing.
ReplyDeleteReading with a smile! Ahhh... Thank you for a beautiful poem sharing lovely memories!
ReplyDeleteThis stirs such memories in me...not only about a first kiss, but the first time hate tried to draw me in to siding with prejudice and I was filled with "love came first" and stood my ground to love my friend no matter the consequences.Thanks so much for taking part in the challenge!
ReplyDeleteAh. Now I wish I didn't know the story. Or does knowing the story make that kiss all the sweeter?
ReplyDeleteSusan, don't fret. The kiss is a sub-plot. More to be had. Do read the book.
DeleteOh, the book is a work of art, Susan -- SO many layers! My guess is you will sit down to read it and will end up putting all else aside until you finish it.. It is that kind of book.
Deleteooohhh. the prettiness of this seeps in... the repetition helps. lovely. slight foreboding, but with this, i can stay with the kiss.
ReplyDeleteI read this too long ago to remember well... guess it is time for a reread. But, I remember enough to appreciate this lovely poem. This is as sweet as honey and warm as summer.
ReplyDeleteKisses sweeter than strawberry wine, we lived among the reeds and Christine Rissi's, damn rusty tractor. love a compensation as much a distraction that we to build a garden must toil the ground... yes, I recall, but it is hard to when the vision was still not far away though we could not take it all in then deeply- our longing heart held firmly beyond distance.
ReplyDeletelove came first... across mental and other barriers...love that...what a warm and magical story..
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, I remember the 1960s, and my first kiss. Later, but still in the 60s, I interviewed a beekeeper and met more bees than I ever expected to meet in one lifetime. It was fascinating, but the first kiss was sweeter.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the memories, and I intend to read the book, as you told Susan to do.
K
sweet indeed
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem and tribute to the sweet power of love and a kiss. Something to savor.
ReplyDeleteThis story affected me as much as the first time I read "To Kill a Mockingbird". I went out and purchased quite a few more books by this author. Fabulous poem - quite an honor for the book!
ReplyDeleteOh, you captured this so well. Beautiful facet you've chosen to shine the light on!
ReplyDelete