the old &rusty bridge

stretched thiN&
—-yeaRNing for the shore
across the river’s vein,
—-she crumBles
(poRous, buRning eyes)

layer after laYer after– sKin/fLesH/sin

Til she breaks

&til her core reVeals

no further center


for FFA where Sam’s tending bar today… doors open at 3pm EST
and linking also up with Poetry jam where Laurie’s prompt is Rust… thanks for the invite laurie..smiles


54 responses to “the old &rusty bridge

  1. quite emotive for such a short piece…the yearning/stretching…the crumbling to an empty core…i rather love old bridges…and rust…i think it makes some really cool industrial art…

    • I have so enjoyed reading this Claudia – your unique way with capitals works extremely well in this poem adding the emphasis and in addition highlighting the senses – wonderful – I love it.

  2. I have a very vivid picture of this rusty bridge from what you have written, Claudia. Really enjoyed the wordplay, which heightened the effectiveness of your poem.

  3. I love old bridges. Always wonder what they’ve seen. I couldn’t help (maybe I’m just projecting too much) but think of a woman as I read your poem. Sometimes my knees feel like they’re slowly rusting along with other joints. Just hope I don’t break too soon. Lovely writing Claudia. It’s always such a nice experience to read what you’ve written.

  4. So many of the bridges spanning our rivers, lakes, creeks are in need of repair, replacing … you made the bridge come to life, rust and all.

  5. In my youth, I had to cross an old bridge to get home which seemed to me..even as a child…to be held up only by a thin layer of rust….still have a slight fear of bridges because of it…you poem brought back vivid memories. 🙂

  6. The bridges we build
    Above and below
    And all they bestow
    Before heart is stilled,
    Reminders of loss,
    Inciters of pain,
    And all we hope wanes
    When it’s time to cross.

  7. I pictured the old train engine and coal car trying to make it across, rusted itself and ghosted, red glowing eyes put out. Getting old is not fun, but it’s ok with me to live until I drop!

  8. I photograph old bridges, even though venturing out on them often gives me vertigo; nothing like a powerful patina riddle to spice up our mornings; like this piece very much, the imagery is beyond vivid.

  9. What an experience… I felt this poem. Nothing like rusty old bridges, oh the stories they carry (would be good theme for chapbook). Thanks for joining in, Claudia.

  10. sad about the old bridge, you make her seem so real & so it becomes possible to imagine her to represent some people i have known…

  11. I sometimes have difficulty decoding your poems, though I always find them irresistable. That I am no good with riddles this made me feel good to think it was right in front of me. Good read Claudia.>KB

  12. Rusting has an element of progress. By itself it creates a change, a changed state! ‘Rust gnawing’ is almost like witnessing it right there! Nicely Claudia!


  13. This is the kind of piece that one thinks of when we hear the word “poetic”– a great read.

    On a separate got me thinking of how we engender items our poems, in this case the bridge is female. Even though you write in English, since ‘bridge’- die brücke– is feminine in German, had this had an influence on your perspective? Portuguese uses gender for nouns as well which often end up in my English writings, even though they don’t always make much sense or seem to be done “on purpose” rather than just as a simple (and better) alternative to “it”.

    Anyway, thanks much for sharing ‘her’ with us ~peace, Jason

    • i chose she rather spontanouesly but i think it’s not coincidence – yes – bridge is female in german but even if it wasn’t i kinda wanted her to be female – not so sure why…smiles… thanks for the in -depth reply jason – much appreciated…

  14. I remember the song “Ueber sieben Bruecken must Du geh’n” . Love this poem, C. Blessed are all the old bridges that helped us to overcome obstacles so far …

  15. I am fascinated by old bridges and used to live near a place in Indiana whre they are known for covered bridges and “notable” bridges. It was a nice long day’s drive – and most were quite well maintained as tourism is huge there. The link is a quick view of some of them

    The image of bridges having skin, flesh, sinews is delightful.

  16. The format makes you look at the title twice, doesn’t it, at the onset and then when the poem has run its length. A painstaking description, precise and yet lyrical – and the closing lines have an undercurrent of wistfulness.