Reviews

Just from his Biographical Data it should be clear to any reader, beginner through advanced, with what accreditation C. G. Ferrel writes his poetry. One needs hardly break into the text itself to know his mental, metaphorical and rhythmic acuities. The casual reader might stiffen at the thought of a meat cutter's, or a septic surgeon's penchant for verbosity, intellectual clutter, and philosophical pandery. But the readers of Carl G. Ferrel can dismiss these fears. Ferrel is not one to look down the long nose of a proletariate upbringing, rather he welcomes his readers with a traditonal sense of family which transcribes beautifully onto the page with simple lines, words and rhymes, even a language-- as e. e. cummings would have put it-- in the American idiom. His words forceful, his lines concise, evoking the plight of man on an existential quest in Post Modernity, a quest for a new morality, and, ultimately, a return to a moral naivete. These poems embody Ferrel's wish for a return to 'traditional family values.'

While Ferrel is aware of the beauty of the world around him, he never loses sight of the strife and struggle that is innate to mankind, in fact, he sees, captured within his own words, another world, subject to his own interpretations and misgivings, and he comes to accept that the reader-- whom he references in lines 11 and 12-- will have his/her own misgivings about the world, and, indeed, he recognizes both his and his audience's roll in forming history. Ultimately, though, he knows that the course of history is innane, that all things are born of Love and fall to Sin.

Common misinterpretations would be to dismiss Ferrel as either Fundamentalist-- that Man was created in The Garden Of Eden, and will be cast out and judged in an Apocolyptic Second Coming-- or Fatalist-- that all is predetermined, that man is already sentenced to his own doom, inescapable and inevitable. But the truth in the poem is that there is no certainty-- the page of history is as yet unwritten, and, naturally, man will thrive with Love, and fall-- probably to the fiery depths of Hell-- under the temptations of Sin. This, like all good philosophy, is common sense put to words.

Of course, we can not think of C. G. Ferrel as some Nietzscheian uber mensch-- dictating our morals from on high-- and this is not the way that he would want us to think of him. Rather, he is cognizant of his own fallibilies and the frailty of his own dreams, as is apparent in the poem "Television."
- Amazon.com, Reviewer: megabigeye (Providence, RI USA)

Excerpts

Living is Dying

Let not
A quarrel be,
For a dying man
In ecstasy.

For if a man
Is not alive,
How can he
Truly survive.

You search for this,
And then find that.
You reach for more,
But are handed less.

You struggle in darkness,
Searching for light.
Lying is dying,
And dying is life.

Map of Destiny

Tragedy marks
A man of all seasons.
Struggle and strife —
These are the reasons.

Man's destiny
Makes the decision.
It gives him strength,
Courage, and vision.

Ever present,
There
Is an air
Of mystery

About the man
Who makes his
Place
In history.

The Mighty Stallion

Hooves pounding, nostrils flaring,
The stallion leads the herd,
Fleeing would-be captors
In the early morning light.
With riders flanking left and right,
Pursuit is hard and fast.
With heaving chest and pounding heart,
He races for his freedom.
But all of this, to no avail;
A canyon has him boxed.
Quickly, riders seal the gap,
Blocking all escape.
With all his might and fury
He tries to break away.
He charges at the riders,
But all of this for naught.
Because in the end,
Sad, but true,
The mighty stallion has been caught!

How Can I Replace You?

How can I fill a void
As big as all outdoors?
How can I replace
Precious moments of the past?
Where can I find a love
As warm and as true?
The answer,
Quite simply is this:
When you left this world
For another,
You left behind
A lonely soul.
Your smile —
Unforgettable.
Your laugh —
Irreplaceable.
Your understanding —
Unbelievable.
Your compassion —
Immeasurable.
How can I replace you?
I cannot.

Looking For the Light

I
Walked into darkness,
Looking for the light.

I
Went to places strange,
To
Find a friendly face.

I looked
Toward the future,
Remembering
The past.

I looked
For hidden answers,
To questions
Never asked.

I looked
At my father,
To understand
My son.

I looked
At my brother,
To meet
My fellow man.