Painting Studio Walking The Rain By Stephen Craig Rowe

Walking rain
November drizzle wept damp gray

sky all

the day and night.

Fog longing soft shadows
nearly apeare

then whisp away wrapped

in a cloak of swirling

leaves as an

old ghost whould seem to be,

and then not. 

Mind your step the walk is slick, take my arm and take care.

It is so quiet in the fog and drizzle she said.

The fallen leaves have a unique scent this time of year.  Or is it just this night?

Perhaps.

The lamp post glowed as the last roses faded in the fog and the rains came.

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

Painting Studio Raining Roses In November by Stephen Craig Rowe

The night seemed to rain roses of November if only in dreams as I lay down the garden for winter with poetry, grace and thoughts of poetry and grace.
In a space between the words where poetry is spoken quiet and near light.  Where space is only as deep as one makes it.
How can it rain roses?  She asked.
Just because it does in poetry.
Rather like walking knee deep in rose petals and
being there, here, the dream and reality all at once. 
Did you see the pale sunset through the trees on the ridge tonight and how the colors went gold in turning to purple and soft pink against the blue sky where no camera could capture the image?
Only the words rained roses.
Saints smiled and slept in sacred dreams
as Liberty and Dragon dance eternal,
hand in arm in hand, forever.  As the night rains roses and poetry is ever spoken quiet and near light.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

Walking The Stars

Do you recall when we were walking the stars?
I think we were watching the stars while in a taxi passing over the bridge.  It was a bit late.
With some frost and rain on the window.
You were tracing drops as they ran with a slender finger up and down to the up and down
as the rain came.
You made a funny face and we laughed walking in the stars.
As ever be well

Painting Studio All Saints Day Thank You For The Rose by Stephen Craig Rowe

Are you sure that all of the Saints were in your dreams?

No, I only pray for them.  She looked at her hands, shook her head and said.

Thank you for the rose.

As she spoke I took a drink and my thoughts were of the garden for a moment and of all the Saints.  The half moon rising above the Painting Studio this first day of November.  Then my thoughts turned into the folds of the rose and time spent in the garden this afternoon.

Are you still with me?

Yes, was just thinking about the last roses, fall, stuff like that and all of the Saints.

Are they with you?  Or what?  She said and,

I don’t know

So much of it is like poetry, grace and a song half sung

Walking is healing.  Walking with you and the roses is sweet.

Thank you for the rose.

Thank you. 

I took to the garden and the ridge free and alone for a talk with all of the Saints and a prayer on the first day of November.  As ever be well

 

 

 

Painting Studio Quiet In The Night On And In The Night On…

October 31, 2011Stephen Craig Rowe2 comments

They said some were silent. They said some were loud. The voices could not hear inside their own heads for the quiet was so profound. A fog took some to sleep in dreams and woke them in sacred memories. A time between and twixt the rail on the road.
I could hear the trains and smell the stations. Cold hot steel wheels bending around and back again. Oil and electricity, a scent of fear, a scent of hope, a scent of home, a yearning. A pause. The hat and overcoat drawn taught in Chicago winds, wound down Lake Shore Drive and up town. Down and back to Oak Park, to Barrington, to the Ranch. To Wizard swamp, a magical place for sure and Merlin’s river. A small stream but with a magical quality.
They said some were silent. Liberty left the station hand bag in her hand, red bandanna waving in the smoke and steam. Dragon woke, rolled a tight one and went into the dream.
Are you ok?
I think so. How are you?
Better now that I am with you.
Do you remember?
No darling. Let us just forget
Wine?
Yes please.
Are you ok?
Thank you for the wine my dear
and your time.
As ever be well

PAINTING STUDIO Walking on Ridge by Stephen Craig Rowe

 

Walking on the ridge some things are seen as on the edge.  As in a change of seasons one becomes quiet and watches.  Just take a bit of time to see.

Some images are striking enough to be in and a part of rather like a poem or something.  One’s sight at times must be shared for there you are.  The image of the moment is once only a singular event.

Rather like grain in light and

Poetry on the ridge.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Half Moon Stars On The Road To The Garden An Indian Summer Kind Of Day By Stephen Craig Rowe

Roses sleep in deep frost as leaves turn and softly fall.

There but for a moments grace one is swept away in the beauty of a change of seasons.

In the light of life.

There is a rush to hush.  A push and pull, a giving that is a gain.  In the change of seasons.

Enjoy the contrast of color and light,  see all that  you can see, and as ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe