Rachel J Bowler's photos with the keyword: winter
Snow Scene
20 Oct 2024 |
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Show me the beauty of that snowy-scene.
This is how I want to remember things.
Beneath the lamplight in my street;
Bright and alive.
Tonight I am wide-eyed
Tracing tracks along the road.
Let me watch the people stroll,
Hand in hand.
Hope shines for a moment.
And I will dream.
Displaced
12 May 2024 |
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From point to point,
In front and behind,
Above and below,
The horizon curves,
From constant thought
To constant thought.
Far away
Your memory hidden
Behind the circle.
Although it was expected,
Your departure
Still surprised.
Like mist
On a winter's day.
Mors certa
Escape
17 Mar 2024 |
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I wait for a tomorrow
Filled with summer.
I feed my thoughts
But this is no sad interim.
My eyes are impatient
For the frost to melt
To be contracted anew,
The blunt force allayed.
But the sharpness shrinks,
When the fullness of winter
Is renewed daily,
Until the view becomes clear.
And dullness reminds me
That I escaped.
(Inspired by Sonnet 56)
Allegro non Molto
The Winter
Njosnavelin
Gravity
24 Apr 2023 |
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I wait
Without cover
Whilst the cold sharpens in.
Death pulling to the floor.
Is it possible to revive
The mists of eternity?
The frost smothers
Einstein white,
And gravity pins me
To this place.
I dare not look up.
Hope would crush me.
Old Memory
Morning Star
15 Apr 2023 |
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Morning star,
Out of the winter sun
You appeared in black
With chords of comfort,
And all the songs
I had ever known.
I traded my soul
For a lyre
For you to play.
And when the darkness
Came I listened, until
A nightmare
Set me free.
Coming Back
13 Apr 2023 |
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In the winter I came back,
When the mist was down.
I could still read the signs
That pointed the way
Towards solitary benches.
So I chose one and sat,
And drizzle mingled
Between every pore,
Until it reached
Ethereal peace.
Frost
10 Apr 2023 |
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Protecting shoes from the mud,
My glamour works
In frozen fractals,
Waiting for change
To unfix blankness
Into a wry smile.
Sit outside with me
For an hour and feel
The numbness.
Or stay for longer
Through the birdsong,
And watch freedom.
The Past
The Ladder
25 Feb 2023 |
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'There's the ladder without-a-top,' said Silky, pointing. 'No one has ever climbed beyond the three thousandth rung, because they get so tired. And there's the tree-that-sings. It's singing now.'
So it was - a whispery, beautiful song, all about the sun and the wind and rain. The children could understand it perfectly, although the tree did not use any words they knew. It just stood there and poured out its song in tree language.
Enid Blyton - The Folk of the Faraway Tree
Fog
13 Feb 2023 |
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Benevolently
It descends.
A half-memory
I can't quite
Recall,
Which still
Surprises,
As if
Something
Has already
Happened.
There is no
Uneasiness and
The shadows
Disappear
When I try
To touch them.
This is how
I want it
To be.
Invincible Summer
12 Nov 2022 |
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“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
― Albert Camus
Shape Shifters
10 Jun 2020 |
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Shape shifting their way like fog
Through the days,
An invisible war has been fought
For forty years
By ghosts in disguise
Who show you who they are
Every day
If you dare look
Into the blue chill
Of nothingness.
Still Waiting
27 Feb 2019 |
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Rachel is a hobbyist photographer who also makes a few poetic attempts, of mainly comic value. Her work explores the relationship between midlife sub-cultures and very long walks. With influences as diverse as Danny Dyer and Camus, new variations are generated from both explicit, implicit and extra layers.
Ever since she was a child, after holidaying at Butlin's Skegness, she has been fascinated by the essential unreality of the universe. What starts out as hope soon becomes corrupted into a carnival of chaos and trips to Sainsbury's, leaving only a lingering sense of what the hell has happened type nausea.
Her work is aloof and systematic, and cool, neutral imagery is used. By means of thought processes, she explores the possibility of escape from the corporate world. As subtle phenomena become frozen through boundaried and repetitive practice, the viewer is left without a clue as to the potential or the limits of our future.
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