In The Light Of A Rose By Stephen Craig Rowe

In the light of a rose there seems to me to be a fair and poetic land.  Where color is true soft and bright.  A place of peace and yearning.
In the adventure
of
Spring.

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

Out and About A Way Of Words In Spring by Stephen Craig Rowe

When one captures a bit of grace, it is held holy for a moment and given to the world.  The world then turns to the Universe as the unique beauty becomes of the All.  The Jonquil is as sure a sign of spring as is the Robin, warm days and rain on the ridge.  The flower is but fleeting, one day here and one day gone.  Rather like a twist of fate and more for each season brings new life, a curious change of light and joy for those who behold the symphony in awe.  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 In A Space Between The Words Silence Is Spoken by Stephen Craig Rowe

 

September roses yawn after August heat and pale flowers wilt with light sifted through silver clouds.

Bright as salvation in the early fall.  Cool as a quiet twilight gloaming and silent between the words where poetry is spoken.

There the quality is grace of experience and given.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig  Rowe

Full Moon Of August by Stephen Craig Rowe

With one hand in the earth and one hand in the sky

Sleep does not come easy in light of the August moon.

Dreams wrap around a breeze, flapping window shades all night long, in and out of tossing and turning a glow of silver blue in and through the clouds.  With one hand in the sky soar

As stars rain in the garden.

In light of the August moon.

As ever be well.  Stephen Craig Rowe

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     

Painting Studio First Rose Bloom In The Small Garden 2011, by Stephen Craig Rowe

     The first rose of this year recently bloomed in my small garden and I had to take camera to the yard in order to share some of these images and words.  Am sure some are thinking, “ old Stephen is a bit nuts about his roses and into his cup of gin again”.  Fine, for this is true and would not have it any other way because of the joy found and seen in the first rose of spring as she flowers, then graces my eyes with a silent poetry, a visual affirmation that the artist is alive, well, and in tune with nature as much as one may be in the miracle of life in the all.  Or something like that as one re creates images that capture moments the painter/poet desires to share. 

     There one may begin to understand my personal feeling for the first rose of spring, for there seems to be a light within the flower that displays an energy as if the rose gives light as well as takes light.

     Though only a simple painter and sometimes bad poet there is a  profound beauty in the fold of petals of the first rose of spring.  As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Bean Plate And Update Stuff by Stephen Craig Rowe

My son is on his way to the Afghan war I am full of thoughts, prayers, gin, poetry, fine art, snow, winter winds, music and stuff like prayers and thoughts.  Most of the snow fell in the night and there is a profound silence as snow falls without wind rather like the quiet comfort of a blanket wrapped around one in warm dreams of spring.  Now on to the bean plate, no matter what one must eat and need sustenance.  On a cold winter night this dish has filled and warmed my core over the years.  It is an old time bean plate.

Do not throw away the skins, clippings, trimmings, tops and ends of your vegetables.  I freeze mine in a zip lock type freezer bag and use them as needed for stock.  Carrot tops, ends and peelings, tomato tops and ends, celery pieces and roots, onion skins, garlic skins, tops and roots of nearly any vegetable that one trims should be reserved for stock.

Cover the stock with water and bring to a high boil, add whole and cracked pepper corn, a bit of chicken base and reduce to a simmer until the broth looks like this.

How sweet is that?  An amber colored base that is all natural and made from scraps that one would normally disregard.

The ingredients are simple.  Two cans of great northern beans drained, three or four new red potatoes diced, one medium onion fine chopped, mixed peppers, smashed garlic cloves, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, chopped celery, carrots, pork jowl or salt pork.  I prefer the smoked pork jowl and saute' on low to med heat for about five or six minutes then drain on newspaper before adding to the bean pot then will add some smoked sausage and after bringing the pot to a full boil will let it simmer until thick enough to be eaten on a plate.  With lightly toasted herb and garlic bread. 

From my home to yours, and your home to mine, we are all in this world together, be it a hill of beans or a can of fish assholes.  Smile and as ever be well. 

PAINTING STUDIO Home by Stephen Craig Rowe

     Sunday night before my trip sleep was hard to find as I kept waking and looking at the clock, then trying to fall back asleep only to wake seemingly moments later to look at the clock again.  On Monday I did take a good nap in the van on the road to Danville for the landscape was as drab and grey as the day.  Cold and winds prevailed through mid week.  On the lodging ward of the VA Medical Center in Danville I did have a room to myself and was glad that the evening meal was by no means fit to eat because I wanted to limit my intake in order to ease the cleansing that would take place on Tuesday night.  The hospital sounds on Monday night made sleep hard to find but on Tuesday morning a good nap was taken on the van on the road to Indianapolis.
     On Tuesday arrived at the VAMC in Indy early in the morning but did not have any appointments until Wednesday so I visited some staff, made myself useful here and there with fellow Veterans, then spent some time in the computer lab.  Checked into the hotel around 4pm and began the cleansing prep for the procedure on Wednesday.  Had to drink eight ounces of the foul mixture every ten minutes until 12 glasses were consumed and it sure did clean me out.  Hotel noise and jets flying over made Tuesday night sleep hard to find as my thoughts raced toward the procedure on Wednesday morning.
     Before the colonoscopy my surgeon came into the room and introduced himself with a hand shake.  I said, " Doctor, there is no need to introduce yourself.  How could I ever forget the man who saved my life. "  As we all take pride in our work my remark had the desired effect and caused him to smile thus putting all in the room at ease.  The procedure was flawless and the results were outstanding.  No cancer and the next scope will be in three years! 
     Upon hearing this news, I damn near cried for joy but saved my tears and said a quiet prayer of thanks. 
     As I waited for the van to take me home I noticed a fellow veteran I had seen the previous day who had Parkinson like symptoms and was wearing a short sleeve cotton shirt waiting in the lobby.  Winter winds and cold had finally settled into the mid west.  I went to the canteen and bought an insulated hooded sweat shirt, took it to the lobby and gave it to the fellow veteran.  He said that he had a coat at home and as I helped him  put it on I said that though you are far from home, this  is home.  Merry Christmas.  He shook my hand and thanked me.
     That afternoon on the van ride back to Peoria a much needed nap was in order though interrupted by road sounds and sway of the coach I was only half asleep.  Late afternoon as the sun set on the horizon the light cast below the clouds formed a band of red that flashed behind trees, farms, hedges and the place where land meets the sky.  I was fully awake then and in that beauty my eyes became wet as the last blaze of light seemed to sink into the earth.
     Though it was dark when I arrived home, the house was full of light, had a drink or two, a fine home made meal, a wonderful telephone conversation with the fine arts photographer in Georgia and went to sleep with a smile on my face and slept like a rock.
As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe

In And Out Of The Screen, Space Is Only As Deep As One Makes It By Stephen Craig Rowe Published On Google Blogger July, 2010

I am not one to re-post stuff time and time again, but I really like this screen shot.  The photograph was taken last August on an early Sunday morning.  I call it a screen shot because of the texture that the screen gives the images rather than a screen shot that one's web cam can do.  As I walked myself through the set up with camera, tripod and light there was just a perfect setting for the shot on the window ledge.  The light reflected in and out in a most pleasing visual quality that I found most poetic as the screen gave a texture to the work that gave this photograph a push and pull that draws the viewer within and without the image.  I have done this with a few other images that are striking with the screen effect.

And without.  So here we are on a new adventure making Space as deep as one makes it. 

One word at a time, it seems.  Then again,

one word

can change the world

and

improve the betterment

of all.

As ever be well,

Stephen Craig Rowe

• 

The Last Day Lily by Stephen Craig Rowe

The last day lily
stands alone
as a reminder of the others
that filled a part
of the yard
with color
and light
for nearly
two weeks
of rain, winds,
heat,
and
photographs.
The last
lily
is still
in bloom
and
a miracle
to
behold
As ever be well,
Stephen Craig Rowe

Stephen's Painting Studio and Rose & Thorn Magazine Cover Art

Recently I was honored by Rose & Thorn Journal to display a piece of my work for the cover page. I am most pleased by the results and the review of the painting and the Painting Studio by Liam Wilkinson has left me almost without words. I can find words to say thank you, Kathryn, Angie, all of the cast and crew of Rose &Thorn for the kindness you have given for me to grace your page and urge my friends, visitors and guests to visit Rose & Thorn Journal.

For in the roses and thorns a poetic dream is realized that touches all. There, one experiences the word, words, images and efforts that enhanse and enrich the quality of humanity through fine art.

As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

Rain, Flowers and Stones by Stephen Craig Rowe

Rain flowers and stones were April's travels on the road and in the wings.  Before dawn I curl up in a back seat of a van turn up my collar and try to sleep away the ride with prayers and strangers.  Old soldiers not bound for glory these days as the trips are to Veteran's Hospitals.  My first trip in April was a day trip to Danville, Il. for a visit to the palliative care unit at the VA Medical Center.  The unit was clean, well appointed and the staff caring and compitent.  Prior to my appointment I was asked to wait in a day room with other patients.  I was the only person in the day room not in a wheel chair or bed hooked up with IV's and breathing devices.  This was clearly a place for those on their last legs or no legs as the case may be moaning and staring blindly at nothing on the television.  Not my cup of tea as it were thinking about those poor old boys so strong then and so weak and helpless fading away.  I thought about my grandfather, father, Army friends and thought about running away, then my name was called for a brief interview with the Dr.  We talked about my case, what Palliative Care was about the Hospice Program and such.  I want nothing to do with this as I would rather crawl into the woods or take a bottle of gin to a whore house for my end of days than drool about running on empty in some hospital. 

I have things to do I thought as I left the unit.  Paintings to paint, bad poetry to write, maybe books or a novel one day.  Then took a walk on the grounds and looked at the sky.
The second trip was a three day trip to Danville with a day trip to Indianapolis for a super CT Scan to determine the nature of my ills that did not.  A meeting with my surgeon in Indy was good and have a feeling that this Dr. has it all together but that may be another story.  We shall see. 
The third trip to Danville and Indy in April was in the last week for a scope and another biopsie.  Should have the pathology report within a few days.  Oh, this last trip was a three day visit away and it was rainy and cool for the most part but I did get to walk the stones. 
When I am away I do talk to people, but not much.  Tend to let them do the talking and I just listen until I have to kindly walk away and be about my own.  Help when I can and do what I do and do it well.  Pushing old hippie dudes in wheelchairs, talking stuff, looking people in the eyes as they tell me.  When I look them in the eyes they see.
Late in the afternoon I went to the Danville National Cemetery  and walked the stones again. 
Alone in the stones
No life in sight
the White on green
rows grow and fold
upon the other rows of
White Stones.
Each one a Soldier,
Veteran, Hero,
Family history.
Honor for my hand and eyes
to touch the stones
as I
Walk the Stones
alone in silence and
Snap to attention
give a crisp
Salute.
As ever be well,
Stephen Craig Rowe

THE GREEN WALL A Walk Of Words By Stephen Craig Rowe

The effort of the lands and hands that ever try to lay back the green are but a false hope.  A half filled sand bag thrown into raging flood waters ever rising and quenching earths deep thirst to draw man beyond the madness of holding her. 

Translating the tides to fit a neat bit for a short time only is as selfish a task as drinking the whole cold creek dry.

For a time.  And the old world had no blinds or walls or words.

When the green was the garden of all and creatures had no walls to wait for the slash and burn.

Old worn hands and faces, generations of walls, wailing streets, sad windows and fences will never hold back the green walk of words

well spent

For there are no walls to hold back the green.

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe 

Nine Roses The Garden by Stephen Craig Rowe

Several years ago I cut some roses from my little garden and arrainged them in a champaigne flute.  Then waited for just the right light with my Cannon T50 hovering on the tripod.  When the classic composition was properly framed and the early evening light seemed to shimmer just for a moment.  I held my breath and let the shutter fly.  Later that evening at World Famous Big Al's I placed the flute of roses on the stage for a favored exotic dancer.  As she thanked me for the roses and told me how beautiful they were I saw happy tears sparkle in her eyes and smiled.

Yesterday afternoon I was able to spend some time in the small garden taking on some lite tasks of weeding and cutting back stems that winter was not kind to.  Tend to cut away the brown down to the green just above a tiny sprout.  My landlord dropped by and we made some small talk.

" Did they make it through the winter "?  He asked pointing to the roses.

" Eight of the nine did.  Don't see any signs of the JFK rose ".

" We don't have much luck with roses.  How was your trip to the VA Medical Center in Danville"?

" Mostly routine.  Lab works, a follow up interview with the surgeon, another CT scan and a visit with the wound care nurse".  It had been only 32 days since my operation I thought.  Then said,

" Will know more after the CT scan in Indianapolis later this month.  The scanner there is more advanced than the one in Danville and after the scan will meet with the radiology-oncology team".

" Hope things go well in Indy".  He said and left me to my gardening.

Time spent in the garden to me is rather like taking a walk in the woods or getting into a good book when all the trouble and strife of the world fades as one's focus is on the intricate beauty of life and thoughts are kind as they wander within and without. 

I did promise my dear friend Riette from Port Edward, South Africa a photo of the front of my house.  It is early spring and this morning is grey.  The shot was taken about an hour ago and is rather stark but as summer comes so do the hanging baskets and pots of flowers to brighten the porch.  The rest of the photographs are of the young roses and some signs of life from my walk on Saturday April 4th.

This just in from http://bobdylan.com/ 

Listen to "Feel A Change Comin' On"

From Bob Dylan's new album

TOGETHER THROUGH LIFE

http://video.newsweek.com/#?t=18540585001&l=25152707

As ever be well,  Stephen Craig Rowe