The Bridge Builder

Veiled, Franklin Arts

An old man, going a lone highway,

Came, at the evening, cold and gray,

To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,

Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;

The sullen stream had no fear for him;

But he turned, when safe on the other side,

And built a bridge to span the tide.

Storseisundet Bridge aka the bridge to nowhere, A portion of the Norway Atlantic Road

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,

“You are wasting strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day;

You never again will pass this way;

You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide-

Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?”

Bridge, 2005, Art by Lena

The builder lifted his old gray head:

“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,

“There followeth after me today,

A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,

To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.” 

Sienna, Jason de Caires Taylor, Grenada, West Indies

~By Will Allen Dromgoole

How often do we use bridges as metaphors? When I read this poem which a Linkedin user posted on a thread by Jean Tubridy I was inspired to blog.  I thought of all the things we say and think using bridges:

'The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which bridges to burn.' ~ David Russell

We use 'water under the bridge' to say that we are done or over something that hurt us.

'Go to the truth beyond the mind. Love is the bridge.' ~ Stephen Levine

'Your problem is to bridge the gap which exists between where you are now and the goal you intend to reach.' ~ Earl Nightingale

Love builds a bridge...

and a personal favorite by Dr. David N. Perkins on art education: 'If most disciplines dig moats, art builds bridges.'

Brooklyn Bridge, Leroy Neiman

The World Is Too Much With Us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not. --Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

~William Wordsworth, 1807
(Pickering et. al. 1994)

Duquesne Steel Factories At Night, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, c. 1900, Anonymous 

Traffic on Dearborn and Randolph, Chicago, Illinois, 1909

Triton Blowing his Horn - part of the Fontana di Trevi (Trevi Fountain), 1762, Baroque Genre, Rome, Italy, First designs were drafted by Bernini; however after Pope Urban VIII passed and Pope Clement XII became the new Pope Clement XII commissioned Nicola Salvi. Image retrieved from http://www.aviewoncities.com/rome/trevi.htm

Even Wadsworth in 1807 saw the dangers to nature and the eco-system.  Wadsworth wrote this about the dangers of the Industrial Revolution as losing sight of coexisting with nature and the destruction of the self via materialism.  

It is interesting that the words Sea and Nature are capitalized in various places during this poem; to me it signifies that Wadsworth accepted them as individuals, per say, and not objects. Truer today than in 1807 is the actuality that industrial sites, “progress”, and materialism are removing us from our reality that we are part of nature and the lack of connection with nature is what Wadsworth was referring to when he wrote, “The world is too much with us; late and soon, / Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: / Little we see in Nature that is ours…”. 

Humans have powers that are often perceived to defy even the powers of nature, yet Wadsworth, a romantic and proponent of living in harmony with nature, knew in 1807 and we know in our day that this simply is not true.  We have far too long attempted to maintain a façade of control over the forces of Nature, yet now she is fighting back. ~ fred

Nature V. Industry, Photography, 2010, Jeniffer Sams

Poem from: Pickering, J.H., and J. D. Hoeper. Questions To Ask About Poetry. Literature. Edited by D. Anthony English. New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1994.


For more information about Pollution and the pollution of the Industrial Revolution the History Channel's Water and Air Pollution Link - http://www.history.com/topics/water-and-air-pollution is a wonderful place to begin.

One Day I Wrote Her Name Upon The Strand

From an AMAZING Blog - http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

Love in the Sand

“Vain man”, said she, “that dost in vain assay

A mortal thing so to immortalize,

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And eek my name be wiped out likewise.”

Jeniffer Sams, 2007

“Not so” quod I, “let baser things devise

To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:

My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,

And in the heavens write your glorious name.

Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,

Our love shall live, and later life renew.”

1595, Edmund Spenser

(Pickering et al. 1994)

I happened upon a blog titled 'From the Shores of Introspection and Retrospect' and I just love the blog, the poetry, the art, and and and so please check it out.... An AMAZING Blog - http://wanderlustscarlett.blogspot.com/

Poem from: Pickering, J.H., and J. D. Hoeper. Questions To Ask About Poetry. Literature. Edited by D. Anthony English. New York, NY: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1994.

The Nymph's Reply To the Shepherd

By: ~ Florian Imgrund http://www.inthoughts.de/portfolio.html

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.


Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,
The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

~ SIR WALTER RALEIGH, 1600

Raleigh was responding to another poem, The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe, 1599.  When Raleigh wrote his poem, nymph was essentially the same as saying girl/woman but with a mythical context.  In my opinion, the nymph or female is in essence replying to the 'Passionate Shepherd' from Marlowe's poem by being a bit cynical in the first 4 stanzas particularly setting the mood in the first stanza by utilizing the word "if".... Raleigh is setting up the "IF"/"THEN" argument (whether implied or stated.  IF this is true, THEN that must be true. If all things were perfect, if no man (Shepherd) betrayed his love, if flowers never died, if clothing and shoes did not fade or wear, ect. THEN love would be possible... Happiness, joy, delight would be possible.....

In the last stanza the nymph, girl, upon pronouncing all these things she likely finds joy, happiness, and even love in softens her blows and perhaps she realizes that these things are superficial - flowers, spring, fruit, silk for clothing, and leather for shoes but they all have their time.... and IF "...joys no date, nor age no need, THEN these delights my mind might move / To live with thee, and be they love."  

Time After Time, by, Roland Guballa aka ROLOFOTO who wrote on this photograph, "Love is truly an amazing thing to have; especially if it can withstand the test of time.  I saw this old couple on Younge street and couldn’t help but take a photograph of them. Not only are they adorable, but their genuine love is something truly to be admired! I can already hear Adam Sandler’s “I want to grow old with you” song playing on top of my head as I write this." Please see more of this artist's work at http://rolofoto.tumblr.com/ and at www.rolofoto.net/apps/blog

Henry Miller and new Art

by: Bliss by Constantine Lvovich

“Nothing can be given or taken away; nothing has been added or subtracted; nothing increased or diminished. We stand on the same shore before the same mighty ocean. The ocean of love. There it is - in perpetuum. As much in a broken blossom, the sound of a waterfall, the swoop of a carrion bird as in the thunderous artillery of the prophet.

by: Dale Terbush

We move with eyes shut and ears stopped; we smash walls where doors are waiting to open to the touch; we grope for ladders, forgetting that we have wings; we pray as if God were deaf and blind, as if He were in a space. No wonder the angels in our midst are unrecognizable.
One day it will be pleasant to remember these things.”

by: Elena Dudina

― Henry Miller

I love this artist's interpretation of 'Angels and Demons too.... How true it is......

Ode - The Past and Present Dreamers of Dreams

Ode

Golden Dreams, Richard Johnson

We are the music makers, 
And we are the dreamer of dreams, 
Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 
And sitting by desolate streams; 
World-losers and world-forsakers, 
On whom the pale moon gleams: 
Yet we are the movers and shakers 
Of the world for ever, it seems. 

With wonderful deathless ditties, 
We build up the world's great cities, 
And out of a fabulous story 
We fashion an empire's glory: 
One man with a dream, at pleasure, 
Shall go forth and conquer a crown; 
And three with a new song's measure 
Can trample an empire down. 

Le Danse de la Sylphide, Richard Johnson 

We, in the ages lying 
In the buried past of earth, 
Built Nineveh with our sighing, 
And Babel itself with our mirth; 
And o'erthrew them with prophesying 
To the old of the new world's worth; 
For each age is a dream that is dying, 
Or one that is coming to birth. 


A breath of our inspiration, 
Is the life of each generation. 
A wondrous thing of our dreaming, 
Unearthly, impossible seeming- 
The soldier, the king, and the peasant 
Are working together in one, 
Till our dream shall become their present, 
And their work in the world be done. 

They had no vision amazing 
Of the goodly house they are raising. 
They had no divine foreshowing 
Of the land to which they are going: 
But on one man's soul it hath broke, 
A light that doth not depart 
And his look, or a word he hath spoken, 
Wrought flame in another man's heart. 

Break of Day, Richard Johnson

And therefore today is thrilling, 
With a past day's late fulfilling. 
And the multitudes are enlisted 
In the faith that their fathers resisted, 
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow, 
Are bringing to pass, as they may, 
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow, 
The dream that was scorned yesterday. 


But we, with our dreaming and singing, 
Ceaseless and sorrowless we! 
The glory about us clinging 
Of the glorious futures we see, 
Our souls with high music ringing; 
O men! It must ever be 
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing, 
A little apart from ye. 

For we are afar with the dawning 
And the suns that are not yet high, 
And out of the infinite morning 
Intrepid you hear us cry- 
How, spite of your human scorning, 
Once more God's future draws nigh, 
And already goes forth the warning 
That ye of the past must die. 

Evening Comes, Richard Johnson

Great hail! we cry to the corners 
From the dazzling unknown shore; 
Bring us hither your sun and your summers, 
And renew our world as of yore; 
You shall teach us your song's new numbers, 
And things that we dreamt not before; 
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, 
And a singer who sings no more. 

Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy (1844-1881)

Richard S. Johnson Fine Arts - http://rjohnson.fineartstudioonline.com/

Ireland Calling!

It is quite fascinating to me the way people come into our lives and inspire us.  I responded recently to a post on Linkdin on TedTalks about poetry and met Jean Tubridy only a few days ago.  Through her emails and slideshow 'Ireland Calling!' I already have a strong sense of the importance of art and literature in her life and I am very happy to have crossed paths with her.  I would love to share her inspirations she sent in her life.  The slideshow is based on a Haiku-a-day and the Photography to go along..... I am sure you will enjoy this as much as I did.

Ireland Calling! (February)

Jean Tubridy, PhD Social Bridges and her Social Bridges Blog

"In terms of inspiration, I would have to say that it comes from my late parents - about whom I write on my blog. My mother was very much into writing and poetry and my father was a keen photographer. They both had a huge love of nature and what brought all this together for me was reading Cicero's book, On a Life Well Spent (written in 50BC) shortly after my mother died in 2009. Cicero, as I have written on the blog under 'Losing Elderly Parents,' stressed the way in which life should be seen in seasonal terms and death in old age, for example, is like death in winter. I became acutely aware of nature through reading Cicero and after my Father died - just 16 months after Mother - I decided to bring together their love of words and poetry using Cicero's emphasis on the seasons (which was something both my parents were keenly interested in anyway.) Mailing the slideshows about Ireland makes me immensely proud of this country and its beauty but it is also a way of enabling me to use the talents I inherited from my parents and in many ways allows me to feel a great sense of connection to them.

I am in the process of writing a book about all this and have given a number of lectures about the impact of Cicero's approach in helping me to cope with losing my parents.

I hope this helps and thanks for your enthusiasm. The slideshows, as you can see, mean a lot more to me that just plain slideshows! Ideally, I would like to be able to produce them on a commercial basis but even without that I gain hugely from making them and also feel that they promote Ireland in a way which is non-stereotypical." ~ Dr. Jean Tubridy, PhD  

Thank you Jean, fred

Tennyson's New Year's Eve juxtaposed to our 2011

Australian Scott Jones kisses Canadian girlfriend Alex Thomas after she was knocked to the ground by a police officer's riot shield in Vancouver, British Columbia. (Getty Images/Rich/Lam)

I chose this photograph for this poem to represent so much of what is going on in the world right now and I cannot say as much as a photograph can..... so may 2012 be more peaceful and head in a more loving direction for all....

In Memoriam

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,    

The flying cloud, the frosty light:    

The year is dying in the night;

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow:    

The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind    

For those that here we see no more;    

Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause,    

And ancient forms of party strife;    

Ring in the nobler modes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,    

The faithless coldness of the times;    

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes

But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood,    

The civic slander and the spite;    

Ring in the love of truth and right,

Ring in the common love of good. 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;    

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;    

Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free,    

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;    

Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

~by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Invictus

Winds of Change, 30 x 40 Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas,
2008, Nancy Christy-Moore

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


~ William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)


http://www.nchristy.com/gallery/hcan.php

Autism Poetry and Art

Stars In the Night, Dubai Autism Center, Patricia McGourty Palmer

The 37 multi-colored stars represent the 37 children enrolled in the School

Of a Statue

The statue cannot feel their eyes.

It cannot know they’re really there.

No biting word can draw it’s blood.

No hurtful glance can make it care.

The statue keeps its vigil there.

It watches with unseeing eyes,

It has no envy of the ones

Who scamper pointlessly around.

But then a pair of piercing eyes

Seek out the statue where it waits.

They gaze into its soul so still;

A stone tossed in the tranquil pond.

Hello there, says the pair of eyes,

What are you doing over here?

And would you like to join with us?

We’ve room for just one more, you see.

The statue slowly shakes its head,

And, setting loose the dust of years,

It makes an odd, uncertain sound

As if to say, you speak to me?

The pair of eyes will not relent,

And as they meet the statue’s own

It sees that there’s a face behind

The eyes; a face filled with concern.

The statue makes its mouth a smile

And says with manufactured strength,

I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t bother me.

I just prefer it over here.

The eyes and face are satisfied,

Receding into their bright world.

They leave the statue quite perplexed,

Its point of view all broken up.

Perhaps there something to be said

For that that’s called Humanity,

Perhaps its worth the pain for one

Who can’t fit in to nonetheless

Still seek the bright society

Of those who fit in all to well;

To seek to see and to be seen

As human.

Because some of them care.

by William at http://www.autismepicenter.com/autism-poems.shtml

Chicago Street, Stephen Wiltshire, UK

Panoramic of New York, Stephen Wiltshire, UK

http://www.stephenwiltshire.co.uk/index.aspx

Music of Beingness, Donna Williams

The Outsider, Donna Williams

http://www.donnawilliams.net/

Creativity Begins

As one person wrote, "An empty canvas, apparently really empty, that says nothing and is without significance. Almost dull, in fact. In reality, however, [it's] crammed with thousands of undertone tensions and [is] full of expectancy. Slightly apprehensive lest it should be outraged ... It can contain anything but cannot sustain everything ... An empty canvas is a living wonder -- far lovelier than certain pictures." (~ Wassily Kandinsky).

No matter our medium, we have a vast potential for opportunity or a vast potential for waste and the difference is our attitude.  Perhaps our creativity works over time, after lessons, after great pains, or if we are lucky after the inspiration 'gods/goddesses' stuck us; however it works for us, it will only work if we turn the creativity we are stuck with, fight the fear and get to work.  Creativity alone is simply imagination, but true creativity is imagination in action - it produces and creates.  Creativity is what binds us all and creativity is not exclusive to some.  What differentiates us is that creativity must be harnessed into action of value.  The artists who work in their valuable ways are no different than a professor/instructor/teacher who inspires even one student or community member, art historian/historians who preserves history for future generations and in the mind of one human, business persons figuring an ad campaign or creating a marketing strategy, lawyers arguing a trial, accountant working on numbers, the person who does land acquisition dreaming of what will become of the space, IT programer using binary code to create a new cyber world, and so on....

All humans are creative in their own way. They each start with an empty canvas and cram it with expectancy!