I wish I could tell you exactly how this made me feel. Words fail me, but my hands are full of stars.

You are just damn good, Gene.

Write on and blessed be.

Such a haunting melancholy feel to this splendid poem, Gene...splenidid write

Carole~

Such a soulful pen, man and sea are one in life and then in death.

Chilling moments in this poem, Gene, and so well developed...through the ending stanza...a double-wow in that! Yet, I also found a calming solemnity in your words. Beautiful...
Blessings and Love - Micke

Gene - Well expressed poem of regret, of love passed by in youth and mourned in old age. Even in his death though there seems to be a completion, as if in the realization he triumphs:

At sunup, a fisherman
snares the body of an old man
clutching
a cluster of silver stars.

- David

Well done, Gene...You've still got my vote!

youth and dreams of youthful desire are revisited in the waning moments of life, at ocean's edge Gene -- your poem progresses mortals flashbacks of fond recollection to a new level of verbal beauty -- a beautiful work of sadness laced with reality's severing finality -- glory, love and adieu -- peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael

Oh my,wonderful writing sweet Gene..enjoyed very much...have a wonderful and safe day Hugss

Hi Gene, This is so felt...a lot of meaning and impact in this write... excellent imagery, now let go of the silver stars.. :]

In Spirit,
Bear

the alliterative swells in this are pounding...with anticipation and foreshadowing. . . .
they traverse the current of life and wonder and death and hope. the rip.tides of one that never wishes to vanish into obscurity. . .. . how the man rests on the oceanic view of his own life...and what is to come.....what is yet unknown..what is yet revealed..
what beauty is a heart that pounds stronger than any surf.
what grace is a soul that cannot breath shallow, but only septh and mystery of beauty.
the faintest of foreboding lies in this. . .
and the softest of rev.elations.
living by one's own compass.
dying by ones own will.
im torn in this.
its pivotal and powerful.
love love love your ocean views.
> <
ness

Oh my this this gives me goose bumps...truly POETRY! and btw...do not change a word! :) it is PERFECT and a keeper.
hugs
Christine

This fine penning is imbued with longing, regret, love lost, agony of reality, death and an unrequited hope for a return to a new life. I particularly like the manner in which you use the relative sameness of nature's rhythms to alert the old man to what he knows so well. One can never go back, start anew and reclaim what he has lost. Enjoyed this immensely Gene. Hugs, J'nia

I see your back to the sea...see it's a good thing sea..stars ,your poem,
stan

Yes, bittersweet...but so well done, Gene.

The Sea, The Sea: it's fatal attraction is well evoked here, Gene.
It's a grim journey to make - from this life to the other shore.

Bittersweet, and quite powerful, my friend - and what an ending.

HEAVENLY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF YOUR BEST POEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

This is truly a remarkable write that pulls the reader into the mind and heart of the old man...I liked this very much.

Great write, Gene; well penned! BRAVO!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. ;D

I am in high hopes you are not that "old man that the fisherman caught"...I was in Wildwood today but did not get to see Mother Ocean, even though i was just a half block from the boardwalk...Find peace, sir...Ed

Gene,
'The Old Man and the Sea' revisited poetically, and this is poetry in language, mood and tone. Is it always that the longer we live the more we regret, is that what wisdom is finally? You answer that by going beyond it and moving to the stars, a history written spiritually at the eternal ocean's edge.
John

Julie, thank you for that thoughtful and constructive review. As you know, I always appreciate your comments and believe that one day you
may even make a poet of me. In this case, if I were to make all the changes you suggest, it would cease to be me. I considered using the word "lost" instead of abandoned but decided that it misprepresented what I wanted to say. It's the abandonment that taunts the old guy
to return to his youth and make amends. When writing a poem, it
seems right that the writer "might try to be poetic" in both language and rhythm. Otherwise, write a short story or an essay, eh? But of course you have to be careful not to be so poetic that the poem sounds superficial or inartistic or just plain awful. As for the first line of the third stanza, I think the insertion of "the" is clumsy and messes with the rhythm (at least to my ear). I felt that the word "silver" in the last stanza was right because I liked the alliteration and because I wanted to stress the connection with the rhinestone heart in the third stanza (or perhaps I'm being too obvious). I do like your suggestion (otherwise) for the last stanza, though I want to keep the word "silver" and I prefer "snare" to "ensnare"...and I'll probably redo the last stanza to read as
follows: At sunrise a fisherman / snares the body of an old man / clutching a cluster of silver stars. Thanks again, dear Julie.
I welcome the feedback from so talented a poet. You are indeed
a love. -gene.

Gene, as you know, i like to comment not just on content, which is easily understood here, but also language, what makes it a poem. Easily, one could state, I'm getting old now; i wish i could be young again and experience that love again, that particular one, or young love in general. But your use of language is what makes this a poem.
Now then, in the first sentence, alone at ocean's edge, it sort of inserts the writer, since the natural thing to say would be "alone at the ocean's edge..." (using the article 'the" --know what i mean? it kind of pulls in the writer as "trying" to be poetic. this is something i'm constantly called on by my mentor, and i think he is right.
Pondering his waning years in the monotony of surf -- the funny thing is, I think this line would be stronger without the "the." But I do like the the monotony of surf idea --- and i wonder if maybe he ponders ALL his years, not just the waning, in that monotony. But no, I think it must be the waning years, because the monotony is that the headiness of young love leaves the rest of the days just a monotonous pounding, an endless round of sameness. i see that now. So this is masterful.
then, i have the same problem in the third stanza: i'd say "the" tropic night, unless you want to use night as plural. And of course budding breast has nice alliteration.
I like questions in poems, if done well, which I think you did. I like the sea-sprite , or a callous cry / call(good allit) -- and all those hard C's, emphasizing the callousness, embedded in the soft lulling in general of the poem. A contrast. rather onomatopoetic.
At the end, for some reason, it would be stronger, by being more subtle, to leave off the word "silver," since we usually do think of stars as silver. the danger there is that it could refer to seastars. Now, I know that leaving off silver would disrupt the rhythm. i even thought of "fallen stars," but you are talking about only one love, it sounds like (her face), so that wouldn't exactly work.
Oh yes, above: the moon's insistent pull taunting him -- I think maybe something less strong. i might say "luring," which would go well with the ensnaring by the fisherman below. Unless you really do feel taunted by the moon, by its pull.It's the same issue: insertion of the writer. i think the lure of the moon is more objective: the taunting is more subjective (editorial)(a judgment) but then it is a subjective poem!
In general, this is a lovely poem about love lost or, as you say, abandoned. something in me wonders, if it was so beautiful, why did you abandon it? you don't say lost, you say that you abandoned. but maybe that is another poem. I would say that the language and theme complement one another. What would you think of the last stanza as this (the seems to be" is kind of jolting. It is already surreal. because one moment he's safely on shore, if on shifting sands, then he is dead. So why say "seems to be?" Just carry forth the surreal.
At sunrise,
a fisherman ensnares
the body of an old man
clutching a cluster of stars.
I think that there actually would not be confusion over sea-stars, since you have already brought in the sun and moon.
At any rate, a lovely elegy and commentary on the nature of life and loss. Beautiful, Gene. I hope you can forgive my feedback. it's your poem, not mine. In the poem, if not in life, you have resurrected that love. of course, it's not the same. But you have given life to what is otherwise past. Memory is a two-edged sword, is it not?

Gene,

This is so sad, yet so moving. An old man thinking about a forgotten love, when destiny ends it. Great write.

Mary

Oh, this one is sad, Gene - yet has a lesson to go for our dreams. Well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

Grab those stars and hold 'em tight, Gene. Sometimes this is all that's left to us. For some reason this reminded me of "The Little Prince". Loved this write!

Fantastic write Gene. Expertly written my friend.
Listen, I have to ask you something. Did I do something wrong or offend you in some way? I review your work honestly and review nearly everything you write. May I ask why you don't show me the same courtesy? I apologize if I offended you in some way. Have a great weekend and God bless.

Gene, another fine story/poem, well written.

Cheers,
Dan