Rachel J Bowler's photos with the keyword: park

Odyssey

14 Jan 2025 11 4 52
Now only glimpsed. A myth. A lamentation. A disappearing Sanctuary. The fog recedes. Fleeing from Its own vision. The destination Never reached.

Hope

07 Dec 2024 10 4 150
Hope lies on the sofa Barely venturing out Into the winter sun, Into the grey skies Of past dreams. In poverty, the Church sits empty. Serenity stirs For a moment Preparing to drift Back into sleep. Sometimes spring Never comes.

Snow Scene

20 Oct 2024 9 6 174
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.

Escape

17 Mar 2024 12 7 292
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)

Autumn Again

03 Oct 2023 5 7 273
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.

Spring

18 Jul 2023 9 3 266
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.

Silence

08 Jul 2023 13 10 332
Martin Czerny You explain this world to me with an image. I realise then that you have been reduced to poetry. Albert Camus

Autumn

27 Jun 2023 7 3 213
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.

Navigation

30 Apr 2023 12 7 346
In a thousand Different directions, Following many Paths not one, The branches Show us the way, And whisper A kind of freedom We can barely Understand.

Old Memory

Morning Star

15 Apr 2023 11 7 361
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 13 9 317
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.

Low Mist

The Past

10 Apr 2023 8 5 300
Martin Czerny This photo and the previous five were taken at Warley Park and Lightwoods Park near Birmingham. These parks are separated by a main road, but are almost interconnected. They have been a feature of my life since I was born. The bandstand in the photo is in Lightwoods Park. The photo was taken on a heavily foggy day in January. When my parents decided to move house in 1977, they moved from living just around the corner from Lightwoods Park, to a very short walk from Warley Woods. My mum would wheel me around Lightwoods Park in my pram, and I spent most of my free time as a child and teenager in these two parks. Both places have a strong nostalgic hold over me - as places where youthful dreams were conceived, and as places where broken dreams are reflected on as an adult.

The Ladder

25 Feb 2023 18 8 292
'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

The Grey Lady

25 Feb 2023 9 5 188
Through the house No longer there, She walks. At a distance, Across the open grass. Sitting on a bench In the height of summer. At dusk, she lingers On the outskirts Of the fair. A thousand years Away, Alluded to By lovers On a r Rainy day. The real story Never told. The winter warning.

21 items in total