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PAINTING STUOIO Eve Of Fourth Of July An American Celebration and Poem Written in Windows Live Space

            Introduction:  I talked to my Father the other day.  He loves the flag waving holidays.  As do I.  For the tears are of respect and rememberance.  Honor, respect and care.   Stars and stripes, the Red White and Blue.  When walking the Stones, row upon row, of head stones.  Oh! My God!  I could feel, as I touched the stones.  Running my fingers over the inscriptions and gently touching the earth.

Praying for family and friends, and thinking about America, The United States and all of it's people.  The diversity and multiculturism is evident in the will of the People. 

Of the world.  Though this flag I honor, the power of the keypad is yours in freedom to improve the betterment and common good.  Long ago and far away some had a vision of a Nation indivisable.  Not invisible.  Bright, intellegent, caring people from all over the world who hold holy the dream.  Of Independence.Daddy,  oh,  the sky,  they came to me because of you.  Love more than words can tell.  Yes, that was me in your smiling lap.  Smile!

Everyone, have a good great holiday weekend,

As ever be well,

With love,

Stephen Craig Rowe

 

http://www.rockymountainnews.com/special-reports/final-salute/

 

   

 

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Liberty And Dragon Revisited

Recently a friend from Austria translated the following piece in German.  You may visit http://feecolora.spaces.live.com to read the translation.  While I was re reading the post my thoughts were good and I hope yours are too.

 

LIBERTY AND DRAGON-ECLIPSE, MAGIC, MYTH AND SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON 

 

Liberty stepped softly from the clouds and spread her wings then soared.  White feathers stretched  as she sailed and the Sun light glinted all around her, in the clear blue and the twilight she found the Dragon and thwacked him on the snout.  There was a quiet rumble and a puff of smoke as the Dragon began to wake.  One red eye, then the other opened, to see Liberty.  The Dragon then smiled and wagged his tail.  Or rather, slapped and thumped it in the Cave.

Liberty was rubbing her right elbow and smiling at the Dragon as she folded her wings and said,

 

" Dragon, did you see the Eclipse last night?  It was so glorious and a moment to behold." 

The Dragon sat upright and wiped the sleep from his eyes, took a drink of dragon brew and cleared his throat, then said.  " Of course I saw the Eclipse, I made the Moon look red!"  With a small puff and an expression of indignation.  Rather child like in a dragon sort of way.  Liberty was right there.

"Silly Dragon, you had nothing to do with the Eclipse or the color of the Moon. These are not the Olden Days."  She said, in a firm but gentle voice. 

The Dragon put his claws together, looked down and there was a slight twitch of his tail.  He was silent for several moments, staring off into Space.   Liberty just stood there and touched his head, graced his brow and patted him like he was an old dog.  Warm and friendly.  The love of eternety returned and there was a spark in his eye as he said.

" Yeah, I know the Olden Days are gone.  That is why I slumber so.  You look better than ever!  Why do you keep rubbing your elbow?"  The dragon then took another draw of the dragon brew as Liberty smiled and replied.

" It is nothing, but a slight pain from holding the Torch.  More of this later."  She said and sat next to the Dragon with a wing and an arm around him.

     Head to head they nustled in silence as the worlds and words spun about them.  The memory of the Olden Days and the New Worlds and thoughts of their place These Days.  Oh, there the memory of Liberty and Dragon danced with the Lords and Ladies, the Faries and Angels people of the forests, rock, stone, river, streams, oceans and all the Saints and Fires that glimmer in the night and imagination.  That have ever been and ever shall be......Then Dragon held out his hand and said with a smile.  " Sissor, rock, or paper?"   Liberty laughed out loud!  A laugh that rings in all things, it was so sharp and sweet. 

She smiled at the Dragon, rubbing her elbow.  Then Said, " Dear Dragon, it is written somewhere that in the Beginning Was the Word.  The Word became that which gave us life in the mind of humanity.  There we have given Humanity the beauty of the Myth, the Magic and healing quality of words.  The poets and the Muse.  The Dream of the Other Worlds and the beauty of All."

There they both sat in profound silence and reviewed the sad state of human history.  All the terror, wars, greed, disaster, famon, starvation, man's cruelty to man's own kind and the rape and pilliage of the Planet that gave them birth.  Sacred sweet life, the ability.  The desire, the Dream.

Liberty, sighed and said, "  My elbow is sore from holding the Torch," as she held the Dragon and wept. 

The Dragon, wiped her tears and said, " Dear Liberty, though they need us not in the times of their own making and folly.  They need us forever in the beauty of the Myths, Magic and Glory of it All.
"Yes, there we shall ever be."  Liberty spread her wings and soared with a song of Freedom holding high the Torch for All to see the Light. 

 

To me, the beauty of the myth, is as dear as the reality.  There we are able to examine our heritage as our heritage is paramount to the future.  We need and desire fiction that is more than entertainment.  Thus, we were given the Word and the desire to share.

As ever be well, With love,  Stephen Craig Rowe

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Painting Studio Fathers Day

Father Sky and Mother Earth

All small gardens are in the

Hands of the

Heavenly Father.

All of the hearts of

Men and Women

Young and old

In this world and

Elsewhere are filled with thoughts of the

Father.

Got a call from my sister today. She told me that he was weak and that I had better call to talk to him. May be a matter of days or weeks.

Hung my head around all the memories as in a blank stare,

Yet so very clear. Then made the call.

One of my brothers answered and told me that Dad had just woke up.

Placed the phone to Dad's ear as I told

My Father that I loved him.

I could hear a raspy voice tell me.

" I love you more ".

My brother came back on the phone, made some small talk and let me know that I would be informed.

Dad, I know you will not see this on the screen. I do know that Carrie or Pam will read this to you, God willing. I know I have not always been a good son. Went my own way and found my way. I did this because you were my hero. My Dad and my friend. I had to cut away and go to make my own mark and enrich the world as you have done by your being.

If not for you, I would not be the man I am. Love you more than words can ever tell. And Dad, you know. Happy Father's Day!

As ever be well, Stephen Craig Rowe

    

Father, Mother, Sisters and Brothers in the North Country my thoughts and prayers are with you.

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PAINTING STUDIO MADE THE NEWS TODAY

Most Sunday afternoons I walk to the grocery store and it takes about three quarters of an hour to arrive there.  If I know that the purchases will be few I strap on the back pack and walk home after concluding my shopping.  Today was hot, humid and I knew that the provisions would not fit in my back pack.  Sometimes I take my camera but always take my camera/phone.  Still feel silly taking pictures with a phone and am not yet proficient with the Cannon Power Shot SD800 IS.  While waiting in the check out lane (yes check out lane, Michiko.  Smile), I called a taxi.  " Hey buddy, this is Steve.  I am at Kroger EP headed home."

                        " Be about 20 minutes today."  The dispatcher replied.

                        " Thank you, have a good day."  Click.

     Good I thought.  Will call Mom while I am waiting for the Taxi.

The check out clerk looked at me and said, " I did not know your name was Steve.  Until just now."  I thought about telling her that it was really Stephen but some people call me Steve and just said, " Pleased to meet you ".   Then chit chatted a bit about how I was going to prepair the bay scallops as she finished scanning the goods.  Bade good day and parked my shopping cart next to a bench and settled down for some people watching before calling my Mother.

 

     I had the camera/phone in hand when a young man with a camera around his neck approached.  He introduced himself and told me that he was a reporter from the Peoria Journal Star.  He sat down and told me that his assignment was to interview and photograph ten people for a feature in the paper sometime this week.  Being me, I thought this is cool for even bad publicity can be good publicity.  He then said that I only had to answer one question.

      The question was:  Of all books, which book do you most regret not reading? 

 

       I drew a blank, looked him in the eyes and said,  " That is a very good question."  My mind was racing rather like a library data base running through authors and titles.   I explained that I read and have read a great deal in my youth and most of my adult life. 

       Thinking, thinking, we made some small talk on a bench overlooking the supermaket parking lot.  Hot and humid shoppers in tank tops, t shirts, cut offs and flip flops scampered in and out of the store.  Thinking, watching, talking and thinking. 

       He said that one woman regreted not reading For Whom The Bell Tolls.

"Read everything he wrote."  I replied as my Taxi slid up with Darell's silly grin.

        "Ride's here, have to go" and loaded the contents of the cart into the back seat.  Just as I was to shut the car door, I stood up and said. 

" War And Peace".  Looking at the reporter as he left the bench and came to the Taxi.

Yes, I regret not reading War And Peace, I said.  "Tolstoy was a great author".   

       The reporter asked my name, and permission to take a photo to be published in the Peoria Journal Star some time this week.  I gave him my proper name,  Stephen Craig Rowe and the link to the Painting Studio.  He took a couple of photographs of me by the Taxi. 

       Now I think did I read War And Peace?  Am sure I did.  At least half, smile!

        What book do you most regret never reading?

 

As ever be well.  Stephen Craig Rowe

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Black Rose

THE BLACK ROSE

A

Poem

by

Stephen Craig Rowe

 

Early in

Spring signs

show only

Seven of the

Nine

Roses.

 

Storms sweep

the land

Greening

and

Leafing the trees.

 

March, April, and May

dispose Winter's cold

boney fingers

Stunning sun sets

and

Dawns.

 

June

Sun

Wrap trees in

Green. 

Bird song shadows

Flutter at the window

Calling

 

Next to the root bulb

a tiny sprout

then

shine on tiny leaf.

 

Eight of the Nine Roses,

The Black Rose

The Black Rose

The Black Rose

Is

Alive

in

the

Garden

As is

The Dream. 

 

As ever be well, With love,  Stephen Craig Rowe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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PAINTING STUDIO WALKING THE STONES AGAIN A MEMORIAL DAY TRIBUTE

Speed writing.  Poetry is spoken near light.

Walking the Stones.

Line after line.  White and green.

Pen frozen on paper as clear as these words.

As dear as these words.

As quiet as a toumb.  Thousands of white stones.

Standing in silence.  In respect, thousands upon thousands, upon thousands of

White Stones.  And she placed a flower there, eyes dry and clear. 

As the stark well kept lawns.

Were silent.  In respect and reverence. 

Memorials, Walking the Stones in silence and grace,

Remember this when you see.

Remember those in honor and prayers.

Go walking the Stone and touch the past that is your future.

This is not a parade or burger fest on the grill. 

Those lives are too precious. 

Too near and dear.  Salute and honor!  Pray and stay well for the betterment.  HAVE A GOOD AND SAFE MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND.  And as ever be well.  Stephen Craig Rowe

 

Wish you were here! 

 

Shine On You Crazy Diamond