The holly and the ivy, When they are both full grown, Of all trees that are in the wood, The holly

The holly and the ivy, When they are both full grown, Of all trees that are in the wood, The holly
The holly and the ivy, When they are both full grown, Of all trees that are in the wood, The holly bears the crown

Introduction:

My photo
Current: Danbury, CT, United States
Welcome! A few years ago, I discovered an application that artists employ in their works to bring cultural awareness to their audiences. Having discerned this semiotic theory that applies to literature, music, art, film, and the media, I have devoted the blog, "Theory of Iconic Realism" to explore this theory. The link to the publisher of my book is below. If you or your university would like a copy of this book for your library or if you would like to review it for a scholarly journal, please contact the Edwin Mellen Press at the link listed below. Looking forward to hearing from you!

03 December, 2016

A Christmas Poem

Here's a Christmas poem written a couple years ago after I overheard a woman in the grocery store ardently complaining to her husband that she didn't have enough cloves for her hot mulled wine (as if two bottles of cloves weren't enough). I think Mary spoke to me personally that day, whispering into my subconscious, "Jeanne, you have to write this.... now!" 
Merry Christmas!
Painting by Andrea Solari, ca. 1507

Eggnog or Grog?

What shall I drink? Egg nog or grog?
What did the Holy Family drink
on that holiest night of nights?
Did Mary lean over to Joseph
after giving birth to Jesus and say,
“Joseph, be a dear and pour me 
another glass of Chardonnay?”
To which Joseph replied,
“Mary, Darling, all we have is 
a little hot mulled wine left over
from the party last night.”

Or…did a father, proud
after such a long trip
offer his bride a sip
of water to give her joy
upon delivering this
beautiful, healthy Boy?

Did the baby cry
in a humble home
and look to his mother,
so beautiful and warm,
reach up, to touch
her swollen breast
and drink of the milk
from the Mother blessed?

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

27 November, 2016

A Day with Wintry Trees

This poem is from a collection of my 'One Line Poem of the Day' entries from Facebook over the past few winters. They seemed to be calling me to assemble them here. 

I took this photo one winter 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, gold 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 brisk, fresh 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  

23 November, 2016

A Blessed Thanksgiving to all!

Wishing anyone who reads this blog a Blessed Thanksgiving Day! 


from Google Images

17 November, 2016

Artistry

An artist is a poet is an artist...Incorporation of art and poetry creates illumination of a human experience. 
photo from Google Images

Artistry of a Poet's Hand

A fine gold nib gently fits
into the intricately carved pen.
The well, made of clay accepts colorful ink,
carefully poured by the hand of a poet.

This artisan of words dips the golden nib  
into the well, slides it along the neck,
allowing excess fluid to gracefully drip
off its gilded edge.

The poet reflects on placement of each word,
and touching nib to parchment,
propels the filled pen to stroke left, then right,
forming each letter with deliberate flourish.

Ornate illuminations of richly hued designs
in crimson, amethyst, and beryl green,
penned along the borders of the page,
elegantly coalesce genius with beauty:
the written word.


© Jeanne I. Lakatos

06 November, 2016

21 October, 2016

Patriotic Sketches




I took this photo of a plaque dedicated to Sydney Swenson (Lady Morgan). 
It's located on Kildare Street, Dublin, Ireland, 
where she lived for a while in the early  19th century. 


In her book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland (1807), Sydney Owenson observes political philosophy in the following manner:

an extension of the mind’s eye to the whole great scale of civil society, and demonstrating the close-linked dependencies of its remotest parts, affords to the benevolence of the human heart, and the comprehension of the human understanding, a social system, gratifying to the feelings of the one, and ennobling to the faculties of the other (Owenson, 33). 

Here, she illumines her reading audience with the possibilities of revolution through elevation of human consciousness. Particularly, she mentions "benevolence of the human heart." Currently, we need to focus on the strength found between each heartbeat, that electro-magnetic force that guides the human mind. As I make my decision of the right person who will be the leader of the Executive Branch of the United States and Commander in Chief of the U.S. armed forces, I will be observing which candidate has demonstrated the qualities found in the truest human heart. That person won't be perfect. No one is. However, that person will be one who is willing to uphold the U.S. Constitution and will be protective of each human heartbeat, even those who are the most vulnerable: a true patriotic servant, who is willing to be "ennobling to the faculties of the other."



11 October, 2016

Civil Revolution






From my book: 

In Sydney Owenson’s national tales, she weaves together threads of disenfranchisement and enchantment, captures 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. She becomes ‘Lady Morgan’ while remaining 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.