Stephen's Painting Studio

Pink Floyd-Wish You Were Here (live) + lyrics

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 18:01:42 PST

I wish all old friends and new a very good and Happy New Year! As ever be well

PAINTING STUDIO Christmas Thoughts by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 20:22:37 PST

Liberty is so busy this time of year in the stars and all. With moon eclipse, the solstice, giving the last leaf of Fall to the Snow Queen, Ice Princess and Old Man Winter. Busy, busy, busy, She thought as She went to wake the Dragon in this most magical time of the year. The Dragon was deep in dragon dreams of olden times when there were olden times when dragon’s slept on treasure troves and drank themselves to sleep with dragon brew. Whatever that is or was.
She wrapped her wings around him, gave him a kiss on his snout and said, “ Dragon it is time to wake for the magical season is upon.” One red eye opened, then the other. There was a belch and sigh as Dragon woke in his warm cavern. Liberty told him it is time to be about!
Dragon gave Liberty a soft kiss on her brow and they were off. Again, entwined forever dancing in eternity with glass beads and tears. As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO December Moon. A Word Painting by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 18:42:50 PST

Here tell there will be a full moon of December this Saturday. Do hope the sky is clear that night for my vision and sight to see Liberty dancing in the diamond sky as she wakes Dragon for the magic season as Dragon dreams of olden times. And silence in the depth of dreams as only a Dragon can be.

Liberty thwacked the Dragon’s smoking snout, softly with her wings and asked him to wake. There was a pause, a puff and grumble as Dragon tossed, turned and felt a pinch from his treasure trove. " Ouch! ", the Dragon said. Rolling over and in a state of half wake found Liberty in his beady red half woken eyes as bright as a star. She said, Dear Dragon the last leaves of fall are gone and the Snow Queen is soon to be about for the chill of winter. The magic white season, where roses sleep, when trees rest, gardens go to the garden. Dragon woke, in a puff of smoke turned tail and said, " Liberty we are forever entwined. Eternal in all seasons and in reflections of the wine.” Liberty smiled and on his brow gave a soft kiss. As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Night On The Ridge Walking A Poem By Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 08:24:43 PST

Did you walk a poem today?
Yes I did, my dear.
The day was rather dark and damp.
I woke
and became of it. Tossing and turning in dreams, hugging pillows and covers, soft rain sounds that fell soft as snow on flowers. I ran around the bed, this way and that, half awake and sleeping.

Liberty woke the Dragon, as She does from time to time. All wings and a flutter, in a glow to let the Dragon know. It may be time.
Did you walk a poem today?
Indeed I did, my dear.
Each soft step well taken, in a space between the words. In a reflection of the wine. On a night on the ridge. Did you you walk a poem today? As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

Fall Hangs On It’s Arbor On The Door Of Winter by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 18:34:10 PST

Fall hangs on it’s arbor as the last leaves are fallen, raked, burned and turned to ash. Yet some leaves are free to skitch streets,
swirl in winds and scratch windows
With fingers of old ghosts in the hand
of swaying tree branches.
Day goes dark before it’s time is taken
drawing sweet sunset all pastel pale bright and wanting in the gloaming
as sky turns cold and clear.
Bring in some of the outdoors with trees and light.
Warm the kitchen, take care of you and yours.
Fall hangs on it’s arbor on the door of winter as
Liberty and Dragon dance eternal hand in arm in hand.
And Spirits of Indians dance in the wind. As ever be well,
Stephen Craig Rowe

PAINTING STUDIO Thanksgiving Post by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 18:32:55 PST

The other day there were some birds in the yard. Rather large birds and I did not choose to go out and play with them. Instead the camera was at hand and was able to capture a couple out of focus images of the wild turkeys. Last fall nearly thirty of these birds graced the internationally famous ridge behind the house and did a turkey trot to where ever wild turkeys go. Some flew and some walked the turkey trot.

This Thanksgiving my thoughts are not about birds or turkeys. My thoughts are of family and friends, love and care. Where and how are you?

I am fine thank you for being who you are.

As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

Painting Studio Veterans Day, 2011 by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 19:33:16 PST

Been in and out of VA hospitals for a number of years to my advantage. Thanks be to those who serve.

My father, grand fathers, and my son Adam.

All who serve in the military, have served now and then, in the private sector as well. The first responders when one needs them most. Thank you all for your service.

As ever be well

Painting Studio Walking The Rain By Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 21:33:22 PST

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 19:42:47 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 22:34:37 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 18:01:21 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 18:20:31 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 20:55:42 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 18:52:10 PDT

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

A Poet On The Phone With Heart In Farm

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 23:03:30 PDT

http://youtu.be/OP-msG0Ku3w
There are time for words and time for images. There is a time for silence and time for time. Or something like that. Fall is a season or a choice of words that recall my time on the farm, or the ranch as it was well known to those in Barrington. In the mean time I post this from my dear friend, and as ever be well

PAINTING STUDIO In A Space Between The Words Silence Is Spoken by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 17:03:31 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 18:34:25 PDT

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

Sand, Stone, Stars, Sun And My Son Half A World Away

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 23:19:01 PDT

Photos by Adam Rowe. Text by Stephen Craig Rowe

Half a world away my son is serving with a Special Forces Unit somewhere in Afghanistan. Adam posted some photographs on Facebook and gave permission for me to share a few of them here. He and some of his unit were recently on ten day convoy. During that time there was no communication home or posting on the internet. I was very glad to learn that Adam and all of those with him on the convoy returned to base safe.

Exploding roads, temps averaging around 110 or so and sleeping in the open under the stars is not a vacation. For the soldiers it is a vocation. It is a job they have chosen to do and they do it well.

Maybe Congress should take their vacation in Afghanistan, or better yet get back to work and serve the United States Of America.

If you can read thoughts, there are no need for words.

Half a world away it is as though there are no need for words. I see it in your eyes my son, and know that you know. Be safe and as ever be well.

Summer Rain On The Ridge by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 19:53:00 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 22:37:51 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 13:58:35 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 20:22:07 PDT

http://youtu.be/QMJMsIaRYDQ

PAINTING STUDIO In The Garden Again by Stephen Craig Rowe

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 19:02:17 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 20:27:22 PDT

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

noreply@blogger.com (stephen craig rowe) — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 20:13:07 PDT

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