Rachel J Bowler's photos with the keyword: trees
Wintering
| 11 Jan 2026 |
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Leave us in peace, the trees cry out. Kill us not.
The vandal wind has already tried.
When the people arrived, there was
Lamentation, of sorts, for a while,
But most just walked by,
Treading on our bones.
The dead leaves fall,
And keep falling.
Take some to
Write on if you
Will, for when
The thunder
Storm
Comes
Once
More.
Barely alive, kept almost
Freezing, we remain.
Ode to the Frost
| 01 Nov 2025 |
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The soft tread
Of your footsteps
Did not surprise me
That winter's day.
Disappearing behind trees
The sun made no attempt
To follow.
And you said nothing,
So he conspired
Until the frost
Set in.
It was then,
Without shelter
And far from home,
I began walking
The shadow
Dappled path.
Through the years.
Clarity
| 01 Nov 2025 |
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Compelling.
Intangible.
Still wrapped
In obscurity
After all
These years.
Es freue sich
Der da atmet
Im rosigten licht.
Positive Interlude
Spring Fever
| 30 Mar 2025 |
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Walking through the quiet city
Buildings out of place
Loom large.
Structures we once knew.
I peruse the ruins from below
While surveyors scan the horizon
From the tops of creaking monuments.
Smiling past destruction
With only a vague feeling
Of emperor's doubt.
Winter
| 28 Mar 2025 |
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Winter took its time
Spawning in April
On the lawn
Of a chiaroscuro day.
Breathing in silence
For nine months
Before swaddling catastrophe
Brought new fears
To replace the old
That numbness never
Fully pained away.
Displaced
| 28 Mar 2025 |
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From constant thought,
To constant thought.
From point to point,
In front and behind,
Above and below,
The horizon runs.
Far away
Your memory hidden
Behind the line.
Although it was expected,
Your departure
Still surprised.
Like mist
On a winter's day.
Escape
| 28 Mar 2025 |
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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 fog to fade.
The blunt force allayed.
When the sharpness
Of a sunbeam shrinks,
The fullness of winter,
Renewing daily, until
The view becomes clear,
Dullness reminds me
That I escaped.
(Inspired by Sonnet 56)
Trees
| 14 Mar 2025 |
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And here are the trees and I know their gnarled surface, water and I feel its taste. These scents of grass, and stars at night, certain evenings when the heart relaxes - how shall I negate this world whose power and strength I feel?
Albert Camus
Floating
| 14 Mar 2025 |
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Floating on the weight
Of hope,
Mist flattens
The echoes of morning.
At the juncture
Of the day,
I imagine finding you,
Sometimes picturing you
In the distance
That obscures
Any chance
Of finding you
Once more.
Trees in Sepia
| 14 Mar 2025 |
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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 |
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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.
A few years 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.
The End of Learning
| 14 Jan 2025 |
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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.
Eyes Wide Open
| 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.
Resonant Yellow
| 02 Apr 2024 |
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Days of yellow noise
Drive through me,
Passing in asinine brightness.
I try to count the trees
Behind the mist.
An impossible endeavour
Discovered too late.
Autumn Again
| 03 Oct 2023 |
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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.
Primavera
| 18 Jul 2023 |
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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.
Silence
| 08 Jul 2023 |
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Martin Czerny
You explain this world to me with an image. I realise then that you have been reduced to poetry.
Albert Camus
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