2017

2017
Lovebirds

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!

17 July, 2017

The Song - An Amhran

Below, I've posted a small poem that I wrote having taken a few Irish Gaeilge classes. I'm still not sure if the grammar is correct, but I think you'll get the idea anyway. I took the photograph just as I was leaving a conference at NUI Galway. I didn't know just how gorgeous the beach was until I was on my way out of town and passed this view heading out on my way to Sligo. 

I took this photo of Galway Beach, Ireland

The Song                                          An Amhran

On the wind, the song sails               Ar na gaoth, an amhran ag sceoladh 
to another who will hear                   do an eile an té cloistrail
the sweet language that blesses.       an teanga binn ag beannú.
Gathering the creed of beauty,         Ag bailigh an creid d' álainn,
the song is forever,                           ta se an amhran go deo, 
sweet and praising.                           milis agus ag moladh.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos                          © Á Siobhán I. Glasadóir

06 July, 2017

Winged Inspiration

Photos taken in my garden

Winged Inspiration

Today,
a bee flies wistfully,
nectar gathering for the hive,
Today,
a butterfly shares the space
of time and floral beauty,
collecting heavenly nourishment.
Today,
the lavender grows more alluring
in service
to its insect guests.
And as my eyes are permitted to view
this treasured scene
of serenity and industry,
I am compelled
to make a difference
before Tomorrow.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

02 July, 2017

A Yankee Doodle Dandy

A dear friend, from time to time, has been like a surrogate Mom to me and just about everyone else in town.  Every 4th of July, she can be seen in the town parade, riding the back of a motorcycle. (See photo below.) She's the mother of a handful of children now living across the U.S., grandma and great-grandma to oodles more, and just a love. If you have the time, click (tick) onto A Patriotic Wave  to visit my other blog and another poem. 

Happy 4th of July from Connecticut, U.S.A! 

A Yankee Doodle Dandy
She's everybody's Mother.
She 'owns' the third pew
 at Mass on Sunday and daily, too,
just to be sure the priests stay true.
 She's an early bird all right
this merry widow dressed in red.

Prayed for the man for whom she wore white
50+ years ago
whispered one last "I love you!"
Sang the blues.
Then...
hopped on the back of this one's bike,
held on tight to save her life. 

Waves, smiles, stories to share,
filling up on love
feathered boa in mid-air
This yankee doodle dandy
in red, white and blue!

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

20 June, 2017

Thunder and Lightning, Then the Flood

'Tis the season...


I took this photo of lightning in Danbury, Connecticut.

Thunder and Lightning, Then the Flood

Flash!
An enlightened moment
of photon intensity
blinds the eye
and elicits the waiting
for thunderous rumble
that rattles a frame;
its invisible command
churns, collides, erupts.
Hellish and healing,
emptied tears
cross a parched terrain:
Flood!

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

13 June, 2017

Sydney Owenson and Self-Actualization


From my book: 

Sydney Owenson acknowledges the spiritual connection between humanity and natural law, a common theme occurring in Goethe’s works. In one of his conversations with Johann Peter Eckermann, he explains:

Freedom consists not in refusing to recognize anything above us, but in respecting something which is above us; for, by respecting it, we raise ourselves to it, and, by our very acknowledgment, prove that we bear within ourselves what is higher, and are worthy to be on a level with it.[1]
Owenson, then, incorporates the Romantic concept of nature’s influence on humanity’s intellectual actions while she introduces the reality of political and societal constraints through her characters struggles with self-awareness. Through this conflict, Owenson personifies the dichotomous nature of glory in which her birth nation struggles with true autonomy and its native glór (voice) to be heard.




[1] Johann Goethe, quoted in Conversations of Goethe with Johann Peter Eckermann, translated by John Oxennford, edited by J.K. Moorhead (New York: Da Capo Press, 1998), p. 157.

11 June, 2017

Bluebell



                        
Bluebell

The Bluebell is a flower,
symbolizing Constancy and Helpfulness.
And I see bluebells lining the path
of a kind spirit traveling through this life
in the body of a noble person.

To this spirited traveler, 
dynamic coalescing of meditation and action
form the foundation of relevance.
Steadiness, calm, and a quick smile,
follow echoes of hearty laughs and wit.

Bluebells dance at the feet 
of this gentle, jovial spirit.
A vibrant energy and fragrance,
ever present in the serenity,
constant and helpful.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

30 May, 2017

"Singing the "Blues"

Every year, when my irises bloom, thoughts of my Dad return to me. Below is a poem about the irises that he brought to me many years ago. "They're your flower, Jeanne Iris. The blue matches the blue in your eyes and they bear your name." This was a significant statement, for my genetic 'flaw' of blue eyes had always made me feel like an outsider, for everyone else in my family had brown eyes. 

The second poem describes the first thing I experience in the morning. My favorite time of day is that moment when I first awaken, sometimes still dreaming, and I look out my window to a lovely little forest, night animals still calling to their mates, no human sound outdoors at all. It's just before dawn, and just after that 'darkest hour,' and for only a few minutes, everything is blue. 



Blue Iris
My Dad brought me some irises
one day
I planted them,
and when 'moving day' arrived,
those bulbs were dug up
brought along for the ride.
Now, every June, they appear
bearing memories of his smiles 
more vividly than the previous year
keeping his beautiful memory alive.
Now, as I strive
to achieve daily goals,
his voice rings clearly in my ear:
"You can be anything you want to be, my dear...
if you just persevere."  

© Jeanne I. Lakatos
********************************************

Just Before Dawn
Eyes open slowly.
Still, I walk along that lovely beach
and glance up to see a small village.
That same, intriguing dream,
now, it fades away
with the early morning mist.
 I feel a gentle, cool breeze
waft across my face
and turn my head
toward the choir of crickets,
still calling to their mates.
An owl wings its way
midst entangled branches,
eerily hooting through the blue.
My gaze reaches the maple tree
standing tall in this tableau
all blue, shades of blue, no other color
but blue. Everywhere!
Leaves, tree trunks, even the lone deer,
all blue.
It's no longer evening, not yet dawn.
Sky and sea are one magic hue.
The song of one bird greets me:
a prayer for the new day
in this tranquil moment of 
blue.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos