Summer Rain On The Ridge by Stephen Craig Rowe

     Last evening there was a soft summer rain with a little bump and flash.  From the porch rolling clouds were reflected in shimmering streets that seemed to sigh and steam mists that swirled on the ridge through the trees, into the woods and for a bit refresh brown lawns, sad gardens, poets, painters and roses.

    Today the rains left sauna damp memory and warm winds perhaps preceding cool breeze and signs of life.  The sunflower bowed her head as I walked by, there was no other on the dry parched streets walking in the damp of day drawn to be out and about.  As ever be well.  Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Stars And Sand A Poem In Time By Stephen Craig Rowe

     Stars rain and shine in grains of sand.  Take to the wind and flower as seas sweep the sands within and without tides that ever flow under diamond skies.   Wild dogs crack the silence with mad howling foam touching all of the seas and shores.  Freight trains rumble as steel wheels spark dark flashes in the valley of tears and stars rain to shine in grains of sand.  Pale strong fingers scratch the screen window rather like a moth fluttering for light, or away, from light.  A moon lit outline on the sand in silence.  Holding on as ever one may hold on to the light in the heat and chill of night while stars rain and shine in grains of sand. 

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO 4th Of July Weekend 2011 by Stephen Craig Rowe

 

 

 

     The holiday weekend is a time for family, friends, cooking out, parades and celebrating the birth of The United States Of America.  It is also  Canada Day weekend for our northern neighbors and allies.  My part of the mid west is hot, humid, without a breeze and thought I was about to melt while on my walk today.  Will be sure to partake of liquid refreshment over the weekend and on Monday night may climb the ridge to watch fireworks over the river. 

     I thank my son and those he serves with at the Special Forces forward operating base in Afghanistan for their service.   Also thank all who serve here and overseas in the military as well as all first responders and those who serve.  Wish you all a good, safe, meaningful and Happy 4th Of July and Canada Day Weekend.   Now off to find some of that liquid refreshment.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

    

    

http://youtu.be/QMJMsIaRYDQ

PAINTING STUDIO In The Garden Again by Stephen Craig Rowe

     There are only a few days left for the lily to bloom and flower so I make do with the images and share while there is time.  I took time late this afternoon for a not so bright light that gives the images a flow that is rather like a field of view.

     Eyes in the flowers, poetry on the plains and a shadow from the ridge cast a soft light.

     I tend to keep quiet about myself and let the, paintings, photographs, and poetry speak as they may.  There, the artist’s statement is the result of the works intended to inspire others to go on and do good works to inspire others and so on.  On and on and on.  To me, that is a good thing.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Father’s Day Weekend by Stephen Craig Rowe, A Letter To Dad

     Hey Dad, can’t believe it has been nearly four years since, well you know.  You did the boogie, checked out, cashed in your chips, went flying in the blind, took a really long nap and never woke up, then went back into the All.

    I know there may not be computers in Heaven yet, smile!, and that you are not reading this letter but you are in my blood, bones, mind, heart and soul each and every day. 

     I talk to Mom every Sunday and she is doing fine.  This weekend Carrie, Pam, Kathryn, Mom, and Carrie’s little terrorists are all in Ohio.  God bless them all.

    Your flag is in a place of honor in my house and you are ever in my thoughts. 

     Love you Dad,  More than words can tell,  as ever be well

 

Rose On The Run, A PAINTING STUDIO Poem by Stephen Craig Rowe

     Wait all the winter long for spring soft winds, rains and green in the warm for the roses.

      The colors and scents seem to close a door to the world, yet open a window.  Time in the garden, small though it is tends to take one away from the trial and strife of the day to day.

     Or so it seems to me as I get into the roses and day to day see the roses run in life from cold winter roots, tiny shoots that become buds and blossom in late spring and summer.

    There free and alone all the chit chat bird song and sound is absorbed  by the images of summer as the roses are on the run.

     Roses on the run, ever a joy.  Here today and ever in memory.

     Wonder not how sweet the blessing, but take and behold the wonder of the poetry in the fold of a rose.

     Rose on the run no one can hold you forever.  For we are also poetry held in the fold of the rose.  There but for a moments grace we hold each other in the reality of a sacred image never frozen in time, for time is all time. 

     Rose on the run, petals in the sun rain on your brow smile as sweet as summer sounds spoken in silence against a screen door slapped shut in the wind.  Spring held taught then wrap the buzz of night around you.  None of the ghosts speak but rather sneak in your sheets and surround dreams tossing and turning as real as real is.  In dreams as a rose on the  run and reflections in the  wine. 

     As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe