Still Life Comes Alive

I've had my Still Life posted on this blog for a long time, and this Circular Still Life is simply a gathering of objects found in my office, some of which are souvenirs of Dublin. The complete collection consists of a lovely fern, an old "That was Easy" button from Staples, a coaster from Connemara, an empty bottle that once held Tipperary water, a de-stress ball in the shape of a globe, and a few pretzels tossed in for flavor. The title is Still Life, but life really isn't still now, is it? That said, a circular motion can breathe new life into a moment of stillness. 

Circular Still Life photo

by Jeanne I. Lakatos

Three Haikus on Circularity

Through simplicity

circularity's presence

gathers the spirit. 

***********************

Guided by the heart

a Treasure inspires

this yearning for the return.

***********************

See the returning

composed of inner fervor 

rhapsody sows Love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite these, please click HERE. 

Hope

My focus here is an individual, trying to catch a break, the proverbial 'brass ring on the carousel of life', feeling the dizziness and fatigue of the ride (or running in circles...multiple meanings there, too), parched for answers and passionate with hope.

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Hope

Tears amid the cheers

reaching for the brass, 

spinning,

thirsting for the flow

only to turn away parched,

tongue swelling in dry air 

hot 

with the fever of hope. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

A Day with Wintry Trees

The following group of poems are a brief narrative that describe one full wintry day. Since we recently experienced another New England Nor'easter this past weekend, I thought it would be appropriate. 

I took these photos in Danbury, Connecticut.

A Day with Wintry Trees

As morning sun

awakens each snowflake

adorning bare limbs,

and trees sigh

in serenity's brilliance,

one last, golden leaf glistens

in the snowy shower

when a brisk wind

draws its stem from a tree,

and in this release,

the leaf tumbles

in a dance of jubilation.

This leaf drifts to the ground,

and the tree,

now naked and sparkling

in the sun's warmth,

stands tall and ready

to accept its wintry destiny.

**************************

Golden sun illumines

the end of this day.

Behind striated clouds

of pink and orange,

an aqua sky enhances

the illumination

as dancing branches rattle,

yielding to the variant wind.

She breathes in the song

of this winter night

and surrenders to its peace,

lets the fresh, brisk air

fill her smile, for she sees

the tiny footprints of animals

braver than she,

leading to the tree's hollow.

Nurtured by the moon’s iridescence 

and a dominion of love,

they snuggle 

within a newly fallen leaf.

***************************

Evergreens mingle

with snow-kissed branches.

The canopy opens

to welcome a thousand stars

spread across the midnight sky,

and under their distant radiance,

she whispers, “Humbly, I adore Thee.” 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

You can hear me recite this poem by clicking HERE.

"But the Greatest of these..."

1 Corinthians: 1-13 (kjv)

1 If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.

3 And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind: love is envieth not, dealeth not perversely not; is not puffed up;

5 Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;

6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Love never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed.

9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became an adult, I put away the things of a child.

12 We see now through a glass in a dark manner; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know even as I am known.

13 And now there remain faith, hope, and love, these three: but the greatest of these is love.

In God's Time

Photo taken in Danbury, Connecticut

In God's Time

Taking my time, 
moving through a daily routine, 
I've come to that moment 
when I become anxious 
for answers to questions unresolved. 

Then, a thought enters my mind, 

moves through me, and reaches my soul. 

It becomes a prayer, guiding me 

to these feelings of love, peace, joy

that encompass me. 

No longer am I filled with doubt, 

for purpose supplants ache, and now, 

I feel Divine Love open my heart with His aim 

on a path, carefully tread 

in God's Time.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can listen to me recite this verse in my 'froggy' January voice by clicking HERE.

Sydney Owenson: Weaving Threads of Culture Together

From my book: 

In Sydney Owenson’s national tales, she weaves together threads of disenfranchisement and enchantment, capturing the essence of the politically inspired Romantic era, in which the grand is intentionally written to be grander, where literary characterizations entwine with political forces within a civil society. 

The English aristocracy and the publishing community accept Owenson as a significant member of their elite societies through her writing and marriage to Sir Charles Morgan. Even though she takes the name, ‘Lady Morgan,’ she remains loyal to her Irish roots as Sydney Owenson. Her loyalty to both identities serves her expressive purposes well, for she carefully coordinates these unique influences into her text by merging the English tale of aristocratic inheritance with Irish ideology. 

Not only did Sydney Owenson bring innovation to Irish literature in the form of national tales written from a woman’s perspective, but also she included illuminating research in each of her works on the historical significance of her characters, their personal and political milieux, and their sociolinguistic backgrounds. She includes a wide range of socioeconomic and ethnic variables within the linguistic components of her characters’ discourse. 

For these reasons, she has been an excellent choice in researching the relevance of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries’ revolutionary period in Europe and America. Her interest in uniting political factions and social classes as a way to open communication for the cause of justice in Ireland during this era is clearly evident in her thematic structures and characterizations. 

Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)

Decades ago, I lived in Atlanta and received a letter from a friend who lived in my hometown in Michigan. She wrote to tell me that our mutual friend in Junior High School had committed suicide. We were all cheerleaders, and it was so sad to learn that this young girl came to such a sad ending. After praying, I wrote this poem, "Faith like a Rock (or Ode to a Friend)." Unfortunately, our friend ended up as a drifting river. 

Photo of a stream near my home with a small, gentle waterfall and many rocks

Faith like a Rock

(or Ode to a Friend)

So this is life ~

engulfing 

the sorrows and heartaches

of human weakness.

There are no tides without the ocean depths.

A tear can stroke my cheek,

but where is Faith?

The heart can contain emotions.

The soul can contain feelings.

A waterfall may flow forever, 

but without the steadfast Rock,

it is only a drifting river.

Each of us has a Rock

which harbors our heart. 

The stronger the Rock, 

the more tender the soul. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos