Perspective

A different thought stream and perspective to my poem 'Animate objects.'

Unlike the seemingly 

unbending structure 

of a century stood bridge,

I bend, grow old; 

which is a strength

iron does not possess.

Nor will it ever, because

although it exists,

it can only function

under instruction. 

It cannot see the horizon

be equally loved and lonely;

hear the farm dog bark,

or observe the morning mist

that shrouds its silhouette.

Nor can it ever despair,

which is a strength

I do not possess,

or would ever wish to;

it simply stands.

Sometimes though, at least,

I imagine this to be true,

it can feel the vibrations that 

course through its carbon content.

Though not so much as I do,

which is quite understandable 

given my content is higher,

my awareness heightened

by a knowledge of where

heaven and earth embrace.

Still and all, if only for a moment

I would like to be a bridge.

To span chasms as yet uncharted,

Instruct myself to observe the 

comings and goings of my species

through different eyes; peruse

the motion of the tide at leisure.

As chilled with dew, I shiver

in a silence made more still

by a suddenly observable 

early morning mist;

when the ghostly glide of a 

hunting owl among my buttressed 

cables, is one of the most beautiful

sights a bridge will never see.

Reviews

[gram linski]

thought the personal perspective of the bridge was a great idea, Beccy,, you draw the reader in with some fine imagery, thought the last 4 lines were class, the bridge might never see the owl, but might feel the changing air current at the buttressed cables, great poem,

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Beccy... lovely view as seen by a century old Bridge...
the morning mist, ghostly glide of a hunting owl, the motion of the Tide at leisure...
You, Beccy are most definitely a writer of mystery and intrigue. I am spellbound.
truly, Pat

[Beccy]

Thank you for your lovely words Patricia, so glad you enjoyed the poem.

[John the Baptist]

A really beautiful offering here, comparing the strengths and weaknesses of a person and an old wooden bridge. Though the bridge is more durable than a human, all it can do is endure, whereas the person can feel "where heaven and earth embrace." For a moment the speaker thinks being a bridge would be nice, so the comings and goings of people could be watched over time, but then the beautiful glide of a hunting owl is observed, and the speaker realizes no inanimate object could ever be aware of such beauty. I hope this one has, or will be, published. It's great.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i think the bridges see many things...but can they feel them? no.
to be a bridge and span, maybe good for a few seconds...but i would rather be limited and love...
as your poem expresses...
we have so much technology now...but i always tell my students...you can reason, you can feel emotion, computers and cell phones and ipads can't....they can only do what they are instructed to do.
I am so glad i am human...and can feel and love...
this poem is so good...
j.

[Beccy]

Yes, only for just a moment. Always, you see the essence jacob. Thank you so much.