Rachel J Bowler's photos
Lacrimosa
Age Old
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For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
T S Eliot
Jon Jon
Birthday Flowers
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The gesture was too big.
A card and a few kind
Words would have sufficed.
Or a second hand book
So, I put them outside
In the spring afternoon.
And they lie there,
Unreachable.
A single rose
Entreats for help,
Wanting to live.
Not understanding the cut.
I take it out,
Vase and water it.
It has a few days
At the most.
The alstroemeria
Look relieved,
In their plastic
Wrapping.
Joyful in the temporary.
Impatient and fatuous
In their blankness.
At once smothering
And transient.
On the Pier
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Across the sea
Of a thousand swords
Forged in the sun
Long tailed kisses,
Uniform, abstract,
Silent and stabbing,
Avalon ascends
For a moment.
Refracting in lamentation.
A myth once glimpsed,
Sucked in to a sanctuary
Of destruction.
Sinking back into
Victorian benches,
The wood calms,
And I look back
Towards the town.
And the old soldier
Watches
From his wheelchair
As the cinema empties
Of oblivious youth.
Autumn Again
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I often go to the place
Where the trees still whisper
Their time travel magic,
Releasing memories
Frozen in the sun.
Is this the trickery
Of hope?
After all these years,
What am I expecting?
Perhaps a sign
That the year
Has not yet ended.
Jaspa
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29 February 2020 - 9 August 2023
And still I dream [s]he treads the lawn,
Walking ghostly in the dew,
Pierced by my glad singing through.
W B Yeats
Uno
The Winter
Idea 22
Spring
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The cloak of loneliness was a distant weed.
Something only half comprehended,
Barely regarded.
Pondered on but not yet worn,
Let alone handed down.
In the shade of spring
Everything stretched ahead,
And there was no rush to get home.
Fading
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Perhaps it is
Too late
For the hope
Of summer
When half a
Lifetime divides.
Memories sparkle
In the sun only
From a distance.
Nonetheless,
The heart
Still yearns.
But now the day
Is fading.
Silence
Poppies
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Lasting less than
Ten days,
They lurch
In vain.
I frame a few,
Hoping to make them
Everlasting.
But they remain
Anonymous,
Among a million
Others
That strive
Not to fade
Out of memory.
Njosnavelin
Autumn
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Floating on the weight
Of hope,
Autumn flattens
The echoes of morning.
At the juncture
I imagine finding you,
Sometimes picturing you
In the distance that
Conceals
Any chance
Of finding you
Once more.
Walk
On the Breeze
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Have I met you
In days long gone,
Passing through?
Dimly remembered
Before time frowned
Into evening?
A memory
In symmetry
On the shoreline
Or on a distant hill
Looking west?
The breeze
Wanders through
The years.
Lifting the decades
On the air,
To youth.
Meeting but not meeting
Until the end.
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