Friday, September 2, 2011

Ruins From the Past . . .

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September is upon us, I hardly saw it coming
This month then marks three years spent at this table blogging
Seems like yesterday the first tentative steps were taken
Upon this path, this trail, this road, this highway, this byway
I had no great expectations of causing any sensation
It was simply a way to break a bond of silence
To throw open a door and unleash a minor flood
Of photographs, thoughts, and poems penned in blood
That were languishing forgotten in drawers and books
Hiding in dark corners where no one ever looked
Who can say if this time is worth the trouble
A few kindred souls have found their way to this place
Since the doors to mr. toad's trove were thrown open
That alone is good, but then where to from here
Shall we continue this late night typing yet another year ?
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What does it take to unlock the potential for transmission
From one mouth to another's ear and so on and so forth
Until the chain of mouth to ear has spanned the earth ?
Where is the key to open a rusted lock ?
Are some locks better left unopened ?
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If we could open the locks and open the doors
Could we ever get back to places we remember from long before
Where children played in the street under grandpa's watchful eye
Narrow streets with cobbled stones lined by stone houses
Where magic lanterns hang to light the evening shadows
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Could we ever return to our ancient farms of piled stones ?
Where a cow waiting to be milked softly lowed
And a fire in the hearth quietly burned
Life had other rhythms then, music from another age
I'm not certain we could even hear it any more
For we have turned a page.

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Would we even know how to build a stone house like this today ?
Or would it be but a pale imitation ?
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Is it too late to resurrect the ruins from our past ?
Is there anyone alive who would want to ?
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34 comments:

Margaret said...

Is this hour photography? I love it. Where is this place?

Crosby Kenyon said...

Beautiful photos, beautiful reflections. I don't know about locks, but we open most doors even if we don't finally step through.

Owen said...

Hi Margaret,
Yes... all of the photos on this blog are my work, with very very rare exceptions, which are credited where it was possible to do so... Photography is my passion, my life beyond my real life, my dream space... what keeps me sane in this crazy world.

These photos were taken down in south-central France on a trip there in July, just a few short weeks ago, near the town of Florac, the Cevennes National Park... an area I've visited twice in the more distant past, and return to with great pleasure, for it is and un-ending treasure trove to discover...

Many thanks for dropping in, you certainly get the early bird award today !

Bienvenue chez French Girl in Seattle... said...

Bonsoir from Seattle, Owen. I, for one, hope you will keep up with the late-night blogging sessions! I always enjoy your beautiful photography and the things you write. I am also happy to read your comments on my blog when you stop by. A bientot, l'ami. Veronique (French Girl in Seattle)

Steve said...

Please do keep going, Owen, your photography and world view are a sustaining breath of fresh air and a reminder that the world is wider than our vision often allows...

:: Karine :: said...

eh bien mon owen adoré tu t'en poses des questions ce matin :-) et tu a l'air si nostalgique de cet ancien temps ! eh oui nous avons bel et bien tourné une page et nos enfants ne pourront jamais comprendre pourquoi nous aimons tellement ces vieilles ruines, ces vieux villages et ce temps où enfant nous pouvions jouer dans la rue à se courir après alors qu'eux ne pensent qu'à la télé et aux jeux vidéos !
malheureusement on ne peut jamais revenir en arrière mais on peut continuer à admirer ce beau spectacle notamment à travers tes magnifiques photos !

by the way tu dors la nuit toi ??? parce que je vois que tu écris toujours à des heures pas possible :-)

Alistair said...

Dears Sir,

Stop and I will hunt you down and stick a cricket bat right up your nighty.

Be warned!

Al.

Springman said...

Dear Owen,
I know the drudgery and often the shear terror of staring into a blank piece of paper can bring. Opening that rusty lock again and again, wondering, is this the day it refuses us entry?
Will no words come, will nothing romance the eye? Must I build this stone house again?
Strength to you good Brother and may a thousand angels guide thy steps and keep thee on thy way!

Jessie said...

This world of blogging opens doors. Doors that were unseen and unknown before. Congratulations on 3 years of blogdom! :)

louciao said...

Je reste bouche bée devant la photographe d'enfants dans la rue.
I know you're a purist photographer so that picture is just a masterpiece right out of your camera but it is so amazing in its precise capturing of a moment that it appears to have been staged or triché somehow.

If blogging is the LEAST you can do to share your talents and insights and vision with a larger audience then you must continue on. But of course you know this, and I am not about to beg. Though I may resort to prayer, and I am not in the least a religious person. Hmmm...perhaps an Owen voodoo doll pinned to a computer would do the trick.

Your French ruins make my west coast derelicts look like cardboard boxes left in the rain.

Yes, open the rusting locks and continue to oil the pained heart that beats within. But if you have to walk away, don't look back -- you've got everything you need.

all ways 11 o'clock said...

Owen,
congratulations on your 3 year stint. i am very pleased to have met you.
your questions here span the globe
universal. your photographs bring me joy and insight.

thank you.

~robert

louciao said...

BrO:

In the words and music of my fellow Canadian:

http://youtu.be/nszR0tfp4Es

James said...

Congrats on three productive years of blogging! Your post have amazed and inspired me. Today's is no exception! Plus it was great to meet you in person. Here's to many more years of photography,blogging and thinking!

ρομπερτ said...

Able to lock, able to explain time and life - the quality of your site.

Please have a good weekend.

Gwen Buchanan said...

so very thoughtful... so very beautiful..
to continue, yes... it always leads somewhere...
never stop building... be it stone... dreams... words... a new day.

Margaret Pangert said...

Hats off to your creative, curiosity-seeking, challenging three years, Owen! Every one of those posts has been provocative, and this one is so steeped in longing I want to burst--what we're condemned to feel here on earth... mais continue, donc! Amities, moi

@eloh said...

I've always loved your blog.

Lady Mondegreen's Secret Garden said...

Please don't stop now. I'm only just discovering you.

Owen said...

Based on a random sample of 17 responses here, or thereabouts, I guess the show will have to go on... It's especially the thought of a cricket bat that shall keep me running, as I listen to the lovely refrain of "Long May You Run"... (thanks sister Lynne for that)...

But to one and all here, I thank you deeply for your company along the blog trail, your warmth, your wicked puns, your honest hilarity as time and time again you see the bright and the joyous side of things presented here...

It's odd how people come and go in the blogosphere, maybe a little like at parties, conversations transpire, and then people move on, sometimes you see them again, sometimes not. I miss the conversations with some who have moved on, but am absolutely loving the exchanges with all of you who do have the time and the will to drop by this most remote outpost on the far fringe of the blogosphere. It still amazes me that out of all the millions of blogs out there, anyone at all managed to find this place...

So, a fine Saturday night to you all, and a wonderful Sunday. Instead of going to church in the morning I'm off to visit an abandonned sugar factory, and am hoping it will be as sweet as it sounds.

Hugs to all, and Alistair, you can put that cricket bat away...
:-)

Owen said...

Karine... et oui, je suis un peu hibou...

Virginia said...

Oh my dear friend. Where to begin? I don't get here often enough and for that I apologize. You have so many wonderful images and your marvelous words .... please don't stop. i hope to be there in janvier again. We must make time for each other.
Bises,
V

Alistair said...

Owen,

Glad to hear that.

I have to confess I don't have a cricket bat - I'm Scottish and it's not so popular up here - but I would set my pet haggis on you. He can be devastatingly sarcastic and has been known to give the odd nip too.

Lydia said...

Owen, oh, Owen. First, Happy Third Blogiversary. My blogs reached that milestone in the last months also and so I understand and love your pondering in this post. As for the photos, they are special as can be and perfect for these beautiful thoughts. I cannot imagine blogging without looking on my sidebar and seeing a glimpse and a snippet from your blog tempting me to come over. For the many times that tiny leap has taken me to boundless beauty as seen through your camera and expressed in your words, I thank you.

Catherine said...

Happy Anniversary - I think I have been blogging for exactly 3 yeras this September - must check my first post to see the date - all about the disappearing bocho -VW in Mexico City...Greetings from the Riviera....

Catherine said...

yep just checked - my first blog post was Sept 23rd 2008 - were you before or after - what was in the air or the blogosphere to inspire us to start blogging at that particular moment - do you remember??

Kawther said...

Wonderful!!!!!!!!!!

Stickup Artist said...

I think I came in about 2 years ago and have been captivated, educated, inspired, and amazed time and time again ever since. Speaking of which, the 3rd photo down of the kids playing in the street - that one just blew my mind!!!! I would so miss your voice and vision were you to go offline, so here's hoping for at the very least 3 more years...

Owen said...

Alistair, It was a Scottish poet, a certain Robert Service, who taught me about haggis, hae ye read it ? I'd copy it all here, but I fear it is too long for this arctic white comment box... so you just get the first verse :

The Haggis of Private McPhee


"Hae ye heard whit ma auld mither's postit tae me?
It fair maks me hamesick," says Private McPhee.
"And whit did she send ye?" says Private McPhun,
As he cockit his rifle and bleezed at a Hun.
"A haggis! A HAGGIS!" says Private McPhee;
"The brawest big haggis I ever did see.
And think! it's the morn when fond memory turns
Tae haggis and whuskey -- the Birthday o' Burns.
We maun find a dram; then we'll ca' in the rest
O' the lads, and we'll hae a Burns' Nicht wi' the best."

Owen said...

Stickup, it's been a while since you appeared from out of the ether with your questions about pizza places in Media... and it's been a good run since then, so yes, by all means, let's run a bit farther...

Owen said...

Kawther, a giant thank you...

Margaret said...

Thanks for answering my question! If I'm EVER in France... :) I can only dream of a day filled with wandering these streets. Would you mind if I snag one and try to draw and paint it?

Alistair said...

Nice poem. I know it but had forgotten all about it.....

Pastelle said...

Wow ! La serrure qui a tant vécu, les enfants qui ont la rue pour eux tout seuls, les pierres si belles, j'aime tout particulièrement cette série.

Roxana said...

i adore the picture with the kids playing, this is pure street photography at its best! (i had to come back to it again, i am really taken with it :-)

bises, comme toujours...