Tender Graces the novel by Kathryn Magendie

   More than words can tell, words spring from the mountians that sustain.  There a dear friend Kathren Magendie lives, loves and is of the mountians.  Her words are priceless, The novel, TENDER GRACES will be published this spring.  April I think is the release date.  The video is more than poetic.  Then takes one into the space between the words.  I can not wait to have a copy of this book in my hands and in my eyes.  As ever be well, with love, Stephen Craig Rowe

SAUDADE REVISITED

This is the first Christmas Season without my Father. I miss him very much and though he is in my blood, bones, heart and soul. He is often in my thoughts. This is why I am reposting the following piece.

SAUDADE


A poem in my own words inspired by JouElam+Sofie http://mudosdaventuras.spaces.live.com/



INTRODUCTION: SAUDADE is a Portugese word that was given

to me in love and friendship. I can not translate this word, I

can only write what I feel.



Saudade



Echo in the valley

Cry in the night

Free and alone

Trickle in the

moon lit streams

That flow from

My eyes

onto the windows

In the keypad

That scratches

Only a high held note

The Violin

Trembles

Splashing wine

On streets that shine

With tears soaked in

Memory

Of those near and dear.

Of those that have ever been and ever shall be.

Of those that have risen'

Of those that sing

Of those that are

Of the Light and Spirit.

Of the woods, rain, forests, grasses, trees, limbs and

Leaf sparkle

Dew drip dawning

Rainbow brow smile

Reflect the night Sky

Stars

Dance in

The glistening drop

Waving at the shore

Foaming and breaking on the rocks

Receed, Smile at the Moon.

Reflect in the pond

Skipping stones

and remember.

SAUDADE,

Home is where the

Art is, forever home

Or away

Within the All.





SAUDADE! As ever be well. With love, Stephen Craig Rowe





Saudade







Ecoa no vale



pranto na noite



livre e abandonada



lua de fluxos brilhantes



iluminando os minúsculos córregos



que escorrem debruçados



nas janelas dos meus olhos



apenas a tecla em arrepios



tremúlos



é o sustenido



o violino



segurando uma nota altíssima



derramando o vinho do nosso copo



nas ruas encharcadas



pelo cintilar



da memória das lágrimas



de todos os que nos são intímos e queridos.



de todos aqueles que sempre foram,estiveram



são, estão, serão e estarão connosco



todos aqueles



que cantam



todos aqueles que são



luz do espírito



dos bosques, das florestas , das chuvas , da relva , das arvores , dos troncos , das folhas



faísca



gota d' orvalho amanhecendo



sorriso na sobrancelha do arco-íris



estrelas



reflectidas no Céu noturno







A Stephen Craig Rowe Poem



Translation And Adaptation By JouElam



A very touched thank you to our Dear Friend Stephen



Author's note: It is I who thank you. You are in my thoughts and prayers. As ever be well. With love. Stephen Craig Rowe

THE TWELVTH MOON

THE TWELVTH MOON was first published at the PAINTING STUDIO http://paintingstudio.spaces.live.com/  I believe two years ago.  I am re posting it here.

There are many names for the December Moon. The Chocktaw Native American Tribe see it as the Peach Moon. Others call the full moon of December the Bitter Moon, the Cold Moon, the Snow Moon, the Long Night Moon, the Oak Moon, and Winter Moon.


The Dakotah Sioux name the Full Moon Of December.....The Twelfth Moon.

The twelfth

Full Moon of the year

Drew me to the yard at Midnight

In the bitter cold

In the snow.

Hand held a railing

That I could look directly

Up.

In my eyes the clear vision

As I arched my back

Crained my neck

Stars clear as bells

Ringed around the

Twelfth Moon as

Diamonds frozen in the Sky.

As ever be well, With love. Stephen Craig Rowe

US Auto and Oil, Who should pay? The people or corporations

Failing USA auto makers should seek aid from the oil industry and not from the tax base. Dah! One hand feeds the other from the birth of the industrial age. What do you think about this? Oh yes, both should be held responsible and made to clean up the planet that both industries fouled. Happy Thanksgiving and as ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

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On The Eve Of Winter

In the


Light

of day

Took time to

Talk to the

Roses.

Fingers in

damp cool earth

Nuturing

Tiny shoots

and marvel

colors of small

Leaves.

Some green,

Some purple

All pulsing and

pushing toward

the Sky.

Sun shown shadow

shoulder sweep

a

glance at three

High Hawks

Soaring

turning a wing.

Lawn mowers drone

in the scent of

Fresh cut lawns

Open windows lend

Air and light

Within and without.

Trees are green

( i talk to them too, in a manner of speaking.)

Walking joggers past me by

and smiled.

As I prayed and

Walked

in the

Light of Day.

One hand in the Earth

and

One hand in the

Stars!

Ever care for the Roses and the people.

Each and every Light is unique and

has ever been and ever shall be of you.

For you are the Light of the World.

As ever be well, Saudade is more than a word.

Then it was spring,

Now it is early winter

and

all the leaves have fallen.

Some swirl in the winds

Scratch the windows

dance in a hiss on the streets

and recall the last rose.

As winds of the north

whisper in the pines

a warm soft dream

and memories.

There the dance

of stars and diamonds

are held holy

As Libetry and Dragon

eternal entwine

reflected in glass beads

and

tears. As ever be well, With love, Stephen Craig Rowe

The Full Moon Of November

The full moon of November


is

away

above the clouds.

Thin fingers

of

trees

scratch

the

sky

as

roots dig

deep

in

beds of fallen

blooms,

leafs,

flowers.

All the roses

silent.

Yet rage

in the

change of seasons.

Soft as the rains

that

shall soon

be

snow.

In the light of

the

Moon of November

Muted

never silent.

And on the

other side

of

the

moon.

Ever shine on.

As ever be well, with love, Stephen Craig Rowe

The Water of Dawn

Though the night is cold and the hour is dark


Stars rain diamonds from Heaven.

Gently grace the garden

That grows

from the past.

All those times,

all those times,

Seed sown and scattered,

Planted and blooming,

Rage in the Light of the fire of life.

Unique,

free and alone.

All the tears,

Each and every one a

Pearl reflecting

The individual

Held Holy in the Hands of God.

There,

Grace reflects

upon the water of life,

the past, now, and future.

Your hands are of the Light.

For you are the Light of the World.

Poetry is spoken quiet in the

Night

Near the fire, eyes look into eyes as

the poet speaks.

And all remember.

Hand upon hand,

Embrace and entwine,

as the stars of night

dance on the waters

of dawn.

As ever be well.

Stephen Craig Rowe