Friday, February 26, 2010

The Floating Dream Bridge . . .

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Somewhere in distant southern seas
Lies an island steeped in mysteries
As dark as the history of colonies
Despite the bright sun that bathes the place
Despite torrential rains
That wash all despair away
Down the ravines cut deep
Into the flank of the land
Land that flows like fire
Solidifying into rock
To be worn by the wind and rain
Far in the east of this distant place
Long ago a bridge was built
To cross a deep ravine
It served for many years
But finally a new road
And a new bridge were needed
To respond to the demands
Of modern times
The old bridge obsolete
Still standing but abandoned
In suspended animation
Keeping us all in suspense
Us few curious travellers
Who may venture here
To walk its length
And gaze over the edge
Into the abyss
.
Far away to the east
In the dark heart of Europe
Lies another bridge
A figurative bridge
A haunted bridge
Or just haunting
Deep in the forests of Romania
A bridge that joins continents
A bridge that joins hearts
A bridge that searches souls
A bridge that flows
With the water going under
A bridge that sings in the twilight
A bridge that whispers at dawn
A bridge between clouds
A floating bridge
A floating bridge of dreams . . .
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One can look up from the old bridge, across the new bridge, to the heights of the volcano in the distance, a volcano that regularly sends streams of lava down the mountain and into the sea . . .
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And on this floating, suspended bridge of dreams, on the handrails, many messages of love have been carved into the metal, and over the years since, the messages have rusted . . . but has the love spoken of rusted too ? ? ? Is it possible for love to rust ? ? ?
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Love you forever . . .
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Ensemble . . . together . . .
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To the tune of : Who do you love ? ? ?
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Is this the Lolita that Nabokov wrote of ? ? ?
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Eternal love . . .
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Musical heroes memorialized . . .
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29 comments:

louciao said...

As Neil put it, rust never sleeps. Can love rust? As shown in your photos, love can bleed.

Susan said...

I wonder if the couples are still together. 2000 wasn't that long ago, Lolo and Mimi - and look how rusty it already is! In old-people-years that's only 3 months ago.

Catherine said...

love all these rusted etchings...what a great find!!

TechnoBabe said...

Way to go, Owen! I especially like the way the poem sets us up and then as we scroll down the amazing blue in the top part of the first picture!!! What a wondrous picture of a bridge.

Virginia said...

Owen,
Ahhh "j'taime". My favorite French phrase. :) I'm so glad you're back with us. Your eye is so interesting to me. You bring us things I never think to photograph. Bon venue mon ami.
V

K'line Bloom said...

"Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé" comme l'a écrit Lamartine.
L'âme du pont flottant parvient jusqu'à nous grâce à toi :)
Passerelle entre 2 rives, entre réalisme et poésie avec ces messages d'amour ancré dans la matière, pour ne jamais s'effacer. C'est super touchant...
Bises de la nuit,
K'line

James said...

I really like the bridge pictures and the bleeding rusty love.

I think for most cases when the word love is carved it lasts longer than the actual feeling. Especially when the carver is 17 or 18.

BLOGitse said...

What a posting, again!
Love to rust? Mine either lives and shines 110% or it's not love.
I can't imagine real love to be rusty...
My old loves were first rusty and then dead and finally buried...
Or sometimes not even rusty. Straight buried if there was no hope. I didn't have (wanted to) waste my life...And I'm happy about that because now
life is good! :)

BLOGitse

Alberto Oliver said...

Wow wow!! Owen´s spacekraft is fully operational again, and i like it. Nice, brilliant poem indeed. All that tropical athmosphere of the last post, and what a coincidence, yesterday i watched a movie as old as h...ll, "The Ghost Breakers" adventures in a haunted tropical island, it made me laugh no end. Well, now, more seriously. What a moving testimony left behind written in rusty ink. I am certain that most of that loves, i suspect experienced by young unstoppable souls, have vanished forever. Yes, just a few, but i mean a very few, happen to make a life together with their first love, but come on, who of us haven´t remembered at least once that love in black and white of our youth, and dream that such that innocence could be experienced again.

cinner said...

I love the photo of the bridge, makes me want to walk over it. It really is beautiful. loved the poem.

Steve said...

I agree with Louciao - it's as if the writing is bleeding... which adds a real emotional charge to it.

Deborah said...

Owen, it's so nice to have you back with things like this. You fill a little spot that nobody else does.

Peter said...

A typical, wonderful "Owen-look" on things!

Linda said...

"Can love rust?"

Who but you would notice or ask, by just observing a bridge?

I echo Deborah above - there is only one Owen.

Linda

Stickup Artist said...

Great shots and poem. What a lovely homage and interesting to trace the sources of inspiration whether traveling through the blogosphere or the atmosphere. I'd love to hear the fate of all those declarations and wish them all well. Cool post.

jeff said...

Toutes ces déclarations d'amour flottant au-dessus de l'abîme, mots éphémères gravés à jamais dans l'acier... comme ces images sont belles mon cher !

Amitiés...:)

The Poet Laura-eate said...

Rusty love on floating bridges? Sounds a perilous premise to me!

Fantastic photographs and a thought provoking poem - thanks

ρομπερτ said...

A timesless and beautiful ode, both in photography and words.

Please have you all a nice Sunday.

Ann said...

beautiful poem and photography..I love to see the world through your eyes...you see things that I might never notice,and that would be such a loss for me.
I wonder what those people look like..to etch themselves there..are they still together,have they put their names elswhere? Why does it look so sweetly romantic there,yet,if I saw it on a bathroom wall.I would feel differently?
so glad you are back..and thanks for taking the time to bring joy to my small piece of the world!

clo said...

howdy cher Owen....
un peu de retard il me semble...je ne dois pas assez boire de café..
magnifiques tes images ...j'ai été a la réunion en 1987 ..ça commence a dater maintenant...mais en admirant tes photos je m'aperçois que les souvenirs sont encore là ..bien présents...je n'avais pas d'appareil photo a ce moment là...
c'est toujours cette ironie de la vie :o)
en tout cas c 'est beau l'océan indien.. magistral....après mes vacances la bas la méditerranée me semblait comme un lac ...très calme...
j'aime beaucoup les hauts de l'ile aussi...avec un coup de cœur pour Cilaos...l'endroit d'où l'on ne peut repartir sans y laisser un petit bout de soi....
et puis les couchers de soleil ,les litchis ,les mangues ,les odeurs ,argggg ...tu sais c'est presque cruel...:o))

un très joli message Owen ...avec ce pont flottant servant de livre aux éternels amours....
passes un très bon weekend cher Owen...
bisoux ...bisoux..

Lydia said...

Marvelous photos, Owen. The poem is beyond marvelous...wow, that will mean so much to her!

Owen said...

Thank you all so much for these messages; I can't tell you how they warm my heart each and every one. One cannot work in a vacuum, a blog with no feedback would be like an empty museum. So yes indeed, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your visits and kind words...

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@ Clo, il va falloir simplement que tu y retournes, avec ton appareil photo cette fois-ci, je suis sûr que tu ferais des merveilles. Et oui, Cilaos ! Oui ! On a passer 4 jours là haut, inoubliables. J'ai un beau-frère qui y a vecu 4 ans en tant que prof au collège de Cilaos, dans la fin des années 80, on a retrouvé des gens qui le connaissaient à l'époque... Et oui ! Cilaos ! Les balades qu'il y a à faire là-haut... magnifique !

namaki said...

ce n'est pas le pont des soupirs amoureux mais presque ;-)

French Fancy said...

Owen, I've really missed your unique style of words and images. Your poem reminded me a little bit of Al.

Nevine said...

Is it possible for love to rust? I don't know, Owen, but it sure as hell seems that way, sometimes. It rusts and turns sour. But it's also possible for love to glow and beam... yes, this I know.

I can tell that you're still possessed by your visit to Reunion, and why wouldn't you be? There are places in the world that sometimes grip us by the heart and soul and never let go. And having crossed that bridge, you can see all the testaments of love that, though rusting, have survived the scours of time. Those that were there before you were also gripped, and in those moments, what did they think of? Love... felt and expressed and etched into the consciousness of the Universe, forever.

Thank you for continuing to share this journey with us, Owen. It's such a pleasure to come here and just chill sometimes! :-)

Nevine

distracted by shiny objects said...

Love your posts. Four. Ever. :>)

seanjonesfoto said...

what a fantastic series, Owen! love it! :)

The Sagittarian said...

Clever clogs eh.

Roxana said...

oh, Owen, this is so sweet, such a surprise, i am stunned! i don't know what to say, really - and the most wonderful images to go with...

it's really... oh, i don't find my words, i am overwhelmed...