something in this reminds me of joni mitchell 'california'....ooo cailfornia, coming home.........
the stark reality
the pinprick words
the breeze of breath. ..
wonderful.
> <

The emotions that are within this exceptional piece Gene, tug at the heart strings. Amazing poetry!

Carole~

Gene, I just love how you started in the present, brought us into the past, and then brought the two together in the end. Beautiful, beautiful imagery...all the way down to blowing the sand of the cell phone. This is poetry.

(I must not be getting all my notifications....)

I have chills...I do not know how anyone can ever get over such an experience, and as deeply wounded the soul must be...fear is frightful...
My Blessings & Peace
Vickie

This reads like the opening scene of a major moving picture. Fantastic Gene. Have I stayed away so long without reading you? How ever did I manage?

And, and, and, what's next? Exceptional once again. Hugs, J'nia

Gene - Love the way you bookend the past with the present. Your quote from Whitman is perfect both literally and figuratively. Perfect last line, too.

He blows sand from his cell phone, calls California.

It's so physical and suggestive. I feel the grittiness of the sand and hope the call goes through. - David

So real and honest, so touching, Gene. Amazing poetry

You have stirred the den up with this one Gene, Such a powerful poem that no doubt could become a short story or even the beginning of a novella...I enjoyed this tremendously, your talent always amazes me!
Much peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"

One word is all I have... WOW!

Okay maybe a couple more words... that last line blew me away totally!

Myrna

I wish I was on that same beach right now...e

Gene, there is much revealed of the man (you) here -- a love lost to time and circumstance in the flurry of a youth dictated by an era of human disaster -- a young man in an alien environment, lusting for life, peace and friendship, only to have a friend snatched from the living by the grip of death -- and Whitman, the sea, friends in every era of his life -- a lifetime of wonder, joy and horror in the blink of sleep's watchful eye -- peace and love my friend -- your poem tugs at every human emotion with conviction -- JonMichael

I hope that nurse is still there. However, she may not be as young as she was during the war. Of course, he isn't as young either. Do you think he notices the changes? When my mother was eight-nine, she told me that when she woke in the morning she felt like she was still fourteen until she got up and looked in a mirror. If all things are equal, both that nurse and the "Leaves of Grass" reader will feel young and keep their eyes closed in the dark.

This 4th in a series of poetic auto-bio is outstanding poetry, Gene. Pray you continue along this line...captivating verse!
Surely, that call to California was a reality...will we hear more on this? :o)
Blessings and Love - Micke
(yes, as captivating as Captain Jack stories!)

....a novel wrapped in this poem..my oh my Gene your talant amazes me..heartfelt!
Christine

Gene, you painted a picture with words that took me right there. And, I am left hoping you really did make that phone call. ~Leslie

Amazing, simply amazing.

Cheers,
Dan

Sad horror story of war, but well penned

The real sad thing is, as these people leave us, brand new ones with new horror stories appear, it seems to never end { Sad the pain of war }
Have a good day
The Buzzard

Quite a powerful piece, my friend.

The grim war details bring the horror back to life, gene. South Pacific without the Bali H'ai paradise.

WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Nicely done, Gene.

War was hell for many and a escape from worse things for a few, because death can't compare itself with long years of torture.
Walt Whitman could had been told you so.

Georg

Very nice. I love the idea of Whitman being used to shade the sun. I also like the time invoked from Okinawa to the cell phone of your last line. Very creative.

A narrative valor, deeply marked by the past as any can be...Gene, you define your physical and mental land and preserve unique identity. Post war reality that a uniformed soldier sustained through times of crisis. Confided to your readers with candor...

Love,
Sage

vivid recollections flawlessly called upon ...

I like how you move from flat on the back to topside to the (assumed) flattened boyhood friend. Then the flying (up) birds, carried out by the ocean, its waves up, down, up, down. The monsters lying low. How war makes monsters of men (and now women) who must lie low. this poem, for me moves up down as you see. low and blow do well at the end. We don't know the elapsed amount of time between the nurse and now; at first i thought, did you really think she'd still be there? but you leave timeline out so i think it's ok. I guess the nurse is symbolic anyway. Silly me. Beautiful poem about horror.

It seems to me one can never erase the "stains" of war. Thank you, Gene. Love and peace,

Regis

a precious poem, even with the smells and sounds of war
and the yearnings and fears, a beautiful write that
shares the story so well...thanks gene...

Powerfully poignant, Gene - undone by the courage it took to pen this memoir, the emotion, throughout - well done.

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

This poem pulsates as the heart of a reticent man opens up to accept and perhaps even embrace all that was and all that might yet be.

Gene,
Perfect 'pinch' from Whitman, the Great Man, and the entire poem breathing, heaving memory and experience and beauty in the writing. Oh yes!

John

The oft used phrase "War Is Hell" still applies.

You did an very good job of putting the reader on that damn ship with him. You projected the fear in such a way as to make me tighten my stomach muscles as I heard the kamikazes coming. Very well done piece of work, poet.