Stephen's Painting Studio: A Moments Grace, by Stephen Craig Rowe

Stephen's Painting Studio: A Moments Grace, by Stephen Craig Rowe

A Moments Grace, by Stephen Craig Rowe

     It was another cool dark damp day dripping drizzling misty rains all along and into the greening of lawns and garden.  I kept to the house cleaning, laundry, ironing and such.  In the evening was at the computer and felt some light at my shoulder, turned toward the source and through the window was a glowing that drew me to the yard camera in hand and I touched the sky in my eyes, as the sky touched me.  Then I faced the internationally famous ridge behind the house and was caught in an intricate net or web of trees, limbs, lines, light and shadow.

     Was stunned momentarily by the simple complex depth and force of the image of the woods calling in and out of the light most poetic, rather like a moments grace.

     As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

Thoughts About Holy Week And Easter By Stephen Craig Rowe

   Good Friday rains kept some indoors until an afternoon pause allowed one to walk damp streets strewn with storm debris, gaze in wonder at the greening of lawns, trees, the morning mad sky gone quiet now, for a bit, with ominous clouds still swirling a promise of more rain while sad-glad wildflowers shook and shimmered rain drops as their colors drew the eye to nature’s silent poetry.

   There was no other as I walked, though my prayers are for those near, dear, in dreams and so very far away.  Near and dear as Saints and the ghosts that dwell in my blood, bone, mind, heart and soul ever eternal.  Everlasting from before time began, shall go on forever for time shall never end.  That which is, is forever.  Or so it is written.  Or so they say.  I for one ever fear to follow, yet never fear to follow myself through burning run for there is the stuff of life given as a sacred gift and trust.

   To me, the trust is for humanity to assume stewardship for the planet Earth that we are gifted to dwell on.  Ignore it and it will go away.  Cosmic dust is also eternal.   See all the stars in the sky,  See all the nails on the Cross.  See all the seas gone dry, see all the lands gone stark.  Never see the stars for some have closed their eyes. 

  Not me on my watch this Good Friday, or ever, Earth Day is every day and you are stewards of the Earth in Heaven and here.

  In my wildest dreams, I pray.  Some keep me awake all night long because I talk to the Host, the Ghosts, the Saints, Spirits, trees, sprites and the old ones.   Sometimes they talk to me.

    Just some thoughts about Holy Week, Good Friday and Easter.  As ever be well, with love,  Stephen Craig Rowe

 

National Poetry Month In A Jumble Of Words By Stephen Craig Rowe

   Indeed the colors of spring are loved by all for there is a feeling of regeneration in the first wild flowers as they grace the lawn and woodlands.  There one may wander in thought and pause for moments or hours in the beauty provided by nature.  In the most profound poetry of silence is an ocean of peace that no words can tell.  A personal experience that one knows yet fail to express because the word and image are drawn within and without, frail as a flower, soft as a feather, shrill as the cry of a gull, and light the sky in explosion of thunder and storm. 

     This gift of life is an ever evolving poem, personal only in perspective.  The work in progress is not about me, the poet or painter for it is about you and the experience you gain from the images and words.   Some say they see angels, some say it’s just rain.   

      As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe