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The Cruise
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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The Cruise |
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Ted Reynolds Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 331 |
This is the third of what's becoming a series of blank verse investigations of the permutations of the Female-Male Relationship. I've already posted "The Face" and "The Slap." I'm not much worried about word choice or meter on these (though I'll always pay close attention to suggestions) but on whether I'm capturing the characters, the situation, and the emotions. It's a true story, by the way. The Cruise When he hailed me in a busy shopping mall, The past felt very close. Ten years had slipped Since our two boats had nestled side by side In Honolulu's Ala Wai. He'd changed, Seemed somehow older. Well, of course, me too. But all the time that I was stopping him, Reminding him just who I was, that teen-age kid That he had deigned to sail with those years back, When he had crossed an ocean, and I merely Hoped to one day - well, all that time the thought Clung to me like a shroud, "Now, just be sure, Say nothing of his wife." Although I hoped, I prayed that he would not be close, that somehow He would inform me how the story ended Of which he couldn't guess I knew the start. It had pressed on my thoughts for many years, The sadness and the tragic tenderness Which she had shared with me. I knew this man, His courage and his sorrow, far more deeply Than he could know. We stopped in for some coffee, And chatted sailing. I had now four oceans, While he'd gone back to business, deadly dull, At least to me, that had to do with brokerage. And that day she was sobbing, when I dropped by To return a borrowed marlin-spike or something, Sobbing her heart out in the galley, though she Quickly dried up her eyes and bravely tried To laugh it off. Well, I was just sixteen, But loved her like a child does, the same way I idolized her husband, nothing selfish, And couldn't stand her crying. Well, I pressed her, And finally she came out with it. It seemed she had Been diagnosed with a disease which gave Her not a hell of a lot of time to live. And without a spot of hesitation he Gave up a good career and sank their funds Completely in a yacht, and they set out To show her just as much of this wide world As she'd have time to see. "But what scares me," She told me, squeezing at my arm until it hurt, "Is how will he feel when I do pass on, In some far corner of the south Pacific? And that dear man will be alone, without me. Death doesn't hurt me so, as leaving him. It's like betrayal." God, but it was sad. I looked at him across the restaurant table. He seemed to have his life again, but still Beneath his quiet behavior I could sense That deeper sadness, that tragic undertow. And then he said, "I'm sure that you remember My wife?" I nodded yes, and held my breath. "I thought you would. I remember that you liked her. I hate to have to tell you . . . we're divorced." My jaw dropped and I looked complete confusion. "Yes," he repeated. "We never made it work. She never could tell fantasy from truth. Why, hell, you should have heard the crazy stories She used to tell folks." Then I nearly cried. [This message has been edited by Ted Reynolds (edited 03-28-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Ted Reynolds - All Rights Reserved | |||
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jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
Ted: You have a well-told story here. Although you mentioned that you were not terribly concerned about meter with this one, it is apparent to me that you paid attention to the meter when writing this. This reads easily and I couldn't find a place where the meter seemed forced. Whenever you slipped a variation in there it seemed to me to be well placed. No complaints here. I think you have definitely captured the "characters" the "situation" and the "emotions" in your poem. I was almost expecting a "Summer of '69" scenerio for a second but was relieved that you didn't go in that direction. If you had I might have some negative criticism to offer.  Good job with the telling of this one, Ted. Nice work. Jim |
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bboog Member
since 2000-02-29
Posts 303Valencia, California |
Ted R~ I liked this one a lot. Having said that,I suggest that you work on the first stanza just a tad. It seemed a little off was when you said I met him and almost passed him by. Normally one almost passes somebody by and then meets them. does this make sense? Perhaps (and this is your call) you might change the truth a little. What if he saw YOU first and you almost passed him by? Then all the time he was reminding you of who he was, your mind is flashing back. Also work on the part about the shroud. I know or think I know what you mean to say, I just wonder if you couldn't work on that part a little more? In any case, I really enjoyed this poem and wanted you to know it. I especially liked how you brought her involving story into it so effectively. The italics were a nice touch. I actually dropped a sandwich that I was eating while reading this poem. Best regards, bboog [This message has been edited by bboog (edited 03-22-2000).] |
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Ted Reynolds Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 331 |
Thank you, Jim. Your comments mean a lot, especially since I *know* you would have told me if you'd seen anything you didn't care for. And thank you, bboog. I'm trying your suggestion in the first lines, but I think I'll keep "shroud" for now, it's also, nautically, something you cling *to*. I really wanted to use italics in the first two poems in this "series," but I didn't know how to insert them two months ago. Now I've gone back and added them there, and they read much better also. Thanks again, both. |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Ted, nautically, a shroud is a wire which holds the mast up side-to-side on a sailboat, not something one normally clings to. Pete |
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Ted Reynolds Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 331 |
Pete, nautically, when you're clambering up to the crows-nest on a pitching yacht, a shroud is *definitely* something you cling to, for dear life. (Also when you're p*ssing over the side.) I spent several years sailing around the world on a ketch, trust me on this one. Later afterthought: you may have sailed on smaller craft. On a larger one, a shroud is closer to a cable than a wire. [This message has been edited by Ted Reynolds (edited 03-29-2000).] |
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