Rachel J Bowler's photos with the keyword: mist
Winter
28 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
Winter took its time
Spawning in April
On the lawn
Of a chiaroscuro day.
Breathing in silence
For nine months
Before swaddling catastrophe
With new fears
To replace the old
That numbness never
Fully pained away.
Angel
28 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
Lifeless beauty
In the mist.
Stone angel.
The stranger to what
Was once known.
Displaced
28 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
From point to point,
In front and behind,
Above and below,
The horizon runs,
From constant thought
To constant thought.
Far away
Your memory hidden
Behind the lines.
Although it was expected,
Your departure
Still surprised.
Like mist
On a winter's day.
Escape
28 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
I wait for a tomorrow
Filled with summer.
I feed my thoughts
But this is no sad interim.
My eyes are impatient
For the fog to fade.
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)
The Fog
14 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
Floating on the weight
Of hope,
Winter flattens
The echoes of morning.
At the juncture
I imagine finding you,
Sometimes picturing you
In the concealing distance,
Which obscures
Any chance
Of finding you
Once more.
Trees in Sepia
14 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
When will the disregarded blossom come?
When will the sun dazzle anew?
When will the sky fill with power blue?
The Park
14 Mar 2025 |
|
|
|
Past the bandstand,
To the bird house
And bowls players,
My mother sits
On a sunny day.
Everything is
Pink, white and yellow.
I watch from my pram.
Later
She tells me
To be careful
As I swing as
High as I can.
By the time you
Join me on the path
The dusk has settled,
Evening has already
Fallen,
And we take solace
In the fairground
Until the night
Begins.
Odyssey
14 Jan 2025 |
|
|
|
Now only glimpsed.
A myth.
A lamentation.
A disappearing
Sanctuary.
The fog recedes.
Fleeing from
Its own reflection.
The destination
Never reached.
The End of Learning
14 Jan 2025 |
|
|
|
Your ghost has not yet arrived.
The past stands still.
I wander the streets
In endless searching
For what is gone
But still alive.
What I learned from the rain
Is of no use now.
I travel through this empty day.
And dusk is here.
Silence
08 Jul 2023 |
|
|
|
Martin Czerny
You explain this world to me with an image. I realise then that you have been reduced to poetry.
Albert Camus
Navigation
30 Apr 2023 |
|
|
|
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
15 Apr 2023 |
|
|
|
Martin Czerny
Warley Park and Lightwoods Park near Birmingham are separated by a main road, but are almost interconnected. Both parks have been a feature of my life since I was born. 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. 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.
Morning Star
15 Apr 2023 |
|
|
|
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 |
|
|
|
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.
The Ladder
25 Feb 2023 |
|
|
|
'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 |
|
|
|
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.
Mirage
14 Feb 2023 |
|
|
|
There is no symbol here.
No infinite reaching
To the other side.
No secrecy
Or sacred rites.
Patterns of thought
And feeling
Comfortably cease.
There is no need
To seek the sky,
Or what's beyond.
There is already
Light enough
To see.
Transcendence
13 Feb 2023 |
|
|
|
Soon the fog will lift
And the sun will
Tear into
Another day.
Reaching into
The infinite
Beyond oneself,
The space on
The other side,
Is limitless
In its nothingness.
Jump to top
RSS feed- Rachel J Bowler's latest photos with "mist" - Photos
- ipernity © 2007-2025
- Help & Contact
|
Club news
|
About ipernity
|
History |
ipernity Club & Prices |
Guide of good conduct
Donate | Group guidelines | Privacy policy | Terms of use | Statutes | In memoria -
Facebook
Twitter