|Reviewed by Mark Lichterman
|These words remind me of one time many years ago on my bicycle on Pacific Coast Highway. I felt my world falling apart. My wife and I hated each other, business was shitty, my kids were all out and on their own... Also, I had a few hits from some really strong reefer. There is a spot where I would stop and rest. This ride was about thirty miles round trip so I would stop and rest at this place: After a slight downhill on a dirt path there was/is a huge rock that I would sit on and, maybe, take another toke and look out at the ocean. This one beautiful Southern California day, after, yes, taking a toke, I thought how easy it would be to wheel my bike back up the path, turn around and ride the bike down and off the cliff... Obviously, 'cause I'm writing this, I didn't do it. My point is, I think that most of us reach a point when we contemplate riding a bike, or by some other means, of a cliff. I don't know if the words you wrote here are but the words of a poet or the words of a poet pouring his heart out. In any case, I'm really glad that I didn't ride the bike off the cliff.
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|perfectly realised succinct metaphor, Jerry,
i identify with all the way
|Reviewed by Annabel Sheila
|This is one of the most amazing things you've ever written, Jerry! I'm sooooo keeping it! As we age, we all feel that eerie presence...stalking us...sometimes too close...other times miles away..but always there....Beautifully captured!!!!!!!
|Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci
|Some people try to cover their footprints up!
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|My heart jumped on this one!|
|Reviewed by Laura Fall
|A Deeply moving write Laura
|Reviewed by Budd Nelson
My friend you have created footprints no one person could ever duplicate. As you continue on you will create even more of substance than I could even dream of comprehending. walk on my friend I will be here and follow.
|Reviewed by Diana Legun
|Jerry, this is my favorite of your poems so far. I find it rich with fertile substance that applies to us all: "just one man among many" isn't that all of us? each of us? "lost footprints" is brimming with multiplicity. "or maybe it was the day before" contains all the elusiveness of life on earth in the spinning illusion of time. "the screams should have nothing to do with him" cups in hand the individual identity we feel inside our skin; that 'how could this happen to me?' perplexity. Deep-reaching profundity in this piece I very much appreciate. ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by Vivian Dawson
|No fear *Jerry* changing shoes
regularly leaves many different
footsteps absorbed all the while
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|In a few short words, you describe your situation perfectly. Your two fears: the fear that you can't put together your lost past, and the fear that you know what awaits you, perhaps a painful death. the former is fading like the footsteps in the sand, and the latter is looming with each coming year. Well expressed, the mortality of men.
I witnessed the funeral of a friend, my age, born in Louisiana, a humble man of humble beginnings: carpet layer, air-conditioning man, peace officer, Rev., civil rights defender, school founder, activist, Bishop. His funeral was attended by a thousand people, one hundred ministers, city and county officials, and two Congress persons. The man left heavy tracks wherever he walked. We shared adjoining desks in a small office when he was safety director and I called him, “Jeff.”
|Reviewed by Richard King
|Jerry, you've left a passel of footprints. Although you can't see them there are many of us who, by following your daily postings, have followed them and benefited from them.
Trust me, they haven't been lost. Not even close! Dick
|Reviewed by Odin Roark
|There's so much to deride from the metaphoric footsteps that to try and convey this reader's perception of them would be folly. Although the picture suggests in the sand, across many landscapes speaks the subtext.|
|Reviewed by RWEHAVING FUN
|...nothing to do but walk on, Jerry... "I hear some people been talking me down... bring up my name... pass it round... they don't mention the good old times... they go their way and I go mine... walk on!" Every day is a new beginning, and the past is just a good bye, Jerry. Life is long, but too short for regrets. Experience is life lessons applied, but if we do not learn from history we are doomed to repeat it. Cyclical ignorance breeds dysfunction, writ large.
You've written another poignant poem with rifts of lessons aplenty laced through every line.
|Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley
|For many have stood there Jerry, that helpless feeling that perhaps once so numb inside that anything is better than living. Searching looking and "he only wishes
he could find his lost footsteps"
This is when you are in the depths of depression (I know you write of the past)and hopelessness. But it is the strong soul that only is given this view and nothing more. And... you stand back knowing within your own soul it truly is not the end. It may even be the beginning of recognition that things must change. And of course you found this through that long blacktop moaning and all of life experiences presented to you.
Keep writing of your intimate experiences, because in them my dear friend you give so many hope.
Love and Light
|Reviewed by neerja gandhi
|:( Sad, nice write... Keep up with good memories :)|
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|To walk alone is truly a long walk to take. I have taken that stroll and sometimes feel as if I am still walking it. Very well done Jerry.