2017

2017
Third week of Advent

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!

14 November, 2011

Poetry Jam: Still Life


This week's Poetry Jam has asked us to write about a Still Life. Well, I've had my Still Life posted on this blog for over a year, and I just 'remodeled' and decided to remove it. Making its reappearance, I present to you my Circular Still Life, a gathering of objects found in my office, some of which are souvenirs of Dublin. The complete collection consists of my lovely fern, a "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 extra pretzels tossed in for flavor. ; ) 

Circular Still Life 
by Jeanne I. Lakatos

Circular Still Life Haiku
Through simplicity
circularity's presence
gathers the spirit. 

Jeanne I. Lakatos  2011

12 October, 2011

The Willow Manor Ball 2011

I took this photo two nights ago in Danbury, Connecticut.



The Willow Manor Ball is underway, and with her usual elegant and creative style, Tess has gathered the finest from around the world. Under this hazy Harvest moon, I have channeled the spirit of Steve Jobs as my 'date.' Amidst fascinating conversation on the creative process, we've managed to bob for a few apples. He has me beat at that game, though. Nevertheless, iDance and iSing under the full moon with delight.

Thank you, Willow, for sharing your creativity with us!

07 July, 2011

Poetry Jam: New Challenge for 11 July!

The GREAT Derek Jeter
Photo from Google Images

Poetry Jam for 11 July BE A SPORT!

Sorry, I'm a little late. See, I was watching the Yankee game, waiting for my favorite player, Derek Jeter, to make his 3,000th career hit. He didn't in this game, but he's at number 2,998... That was on Thursday. On Saturday, 09 June, he batted 5 for 5, which took his number to 3003! Not only did Mr. Jeter hit the 3,000th in Yankee Stadium, but it was a home run. Then, he went on to win the game with one of his amazing hits. Well done, Derek! Now, about our weekly poetry challenge. Hmmm....
Okay, here goes.... Let's think about our favorite summer sport and write a brilliant poem about it. It could be ANY sport, at any time of your life...whatever floats your boat. Let's bring this Jam to a full boil, ladies and gents! It's ♫summertime, and the livin' is easy.'♪♬

Now, I'll cross my fingers, make a wish and hope this challenge gets posted on the Poetry Jaam's page.

Meanwhile, here's my poem about tubin':

Tubin' down the Chattahoochee River
Photo from Google Images
Tubin' Down the River
The Chattahoochee cool as she can be
on this hot, Georgia summer day.
Oh my! I'm just dripping with sweat!
Now, he had it down to a science:
park the car up ahead with the beer hidden
under some rocks, cold river water chillin'
those cans of Bud. "This one's for you!"
(The inner tube, that is)
I ride with the love of my life to a good
spot north of the beer, then we settle our bums
in the center of those tubes
cold...Cold...COLD! but oh, so fun!
The current carries us passed the others,
but we're focused: he on me, I on him.
Grasping hands, we catch a few kisses.
His lips warm me through to my icy bottom.
We reach the end, only to discover
someone stole our beer! Sheeee-iiitt!
But it's all okay,
because that day, we stole, too,
each other's heart, that is.

Jeanne I. Lakatos  2011

Chattahoochee River, Atlanta, Georgia
Photo from Google Images

09 May, 2011

Poetry Jam: Season of Birth

Well, if this isn't a perfect example of synchronicity! This past weekend, in honor of Mother's Day, I had posted the poem below, once written for my mother, Pearl. Also, I added a poem for my grandmother.  Not too many folks visit this blog, so I decided to place the poems in storage with many of my other pathetic attempts at poetry. Anyway, I just discovered that the Poetry Jam has been stirring this weekend, and of all topics, Ms. Vick has chosen "Birthday." What a coincidence! Here, I had this posted all day on Sunday, Mother's Day! Enjoy! Oh, and if you get the chance, check out my little posting on Dante's Paradiso just below the Jam.


Season of Birth
The sun bestows a benevolent glow.
Sweet harmonies 
fill feathered hearts
while a glistening Pearl drop of dew
anoints
the rose's brow.
A breeze dances softly
through the trees,
gathering wisps of life,
and soon the world is awake and moist
with the birth of another day. 

Jeanne I. Lakatos

01 May, 2011

Tornado!

Southern U.S. tornado image from Google images

Birmingham, Alabama, after the tornado
photo from Google images

This past week, a line of EF level 5 tornadoes ripped through 6 southern states, demolishing homes, businesses and cities, killing 350 people, and leaving thousands homeless. Since many of these businesses were in small towns, many people are now without homes, members of their families, neighbors and employment. Included in this tornado path was the University of Alabama. In some cases, entire towns were leveled.

What is amazing is that shelters set up for the victims of this natural disaster are virtually empty because neighbors are taking in the newly homeless. Not only that, a bold effort is taking place to engage actively in rebuilding the businesses and homes. Love... is what it's all about.

Tornado season has just begun in the southern United States. If you would like to donate $10.00 to the Red Cross to help, please text REDCROSS to 90999. 

Thank you! 
~ Jeanne 

19 March, 2011

Poetry Bus: Alley Adventure

This week's Poetry Bus has the famous Uiscebot as our daring driver. He wants us to go somewhere different and write about it. For some reason, a memory of one of the many adventures my brother and I shared as children came to mind. Stephen always discovered fascinating places, and I was the only sister who had the guts (or insanity) to go with him. This one's at our grandparents' house in an old section of Detroit, Michigan where each neighborhood had an alley.  Enjoy!

My grandparents' old house in Detroit, completely remodeled. 
You can see the tree in the background. Beyond that tree is the alley.
Alley Adventure
The Alley behind our grandparents' house
was intriguing to my brother and me.
The grown-ups didn’t want us to go there,
but he knew how to unlatch the back gate,
Sshhh…very quietly, so it wouldn’t squeak.
We tiptoed onto the graveled road.
A sweet yet acrid smell filled the air;
it was a strange, forbidden world.

This day, we discovered a horseshoe print,
embedded in a piece of hidden pavement,
shadowed by the tall grasses growing wild,
fighting for a piece of the dappled sunrays
that played upon the broken cement.
“Only one print,” Stephen whispered,
“Must be from Pegasus.”

Voices formed words in an unknown tongue
and floated from a large window of an old house
behind an unpainted wooden fence,
“Sssshhh!  Ghosts!” he  whispered.
I bent down to pick up a weapon,
a broken shard of brown glass
“This is a piece of magic glass, Jeanne,
from a land faraway… Put it down!
We don’t know what evil powers it might have.”

Reluctantly, I tossed the shard.
No magic today… no spilling of blood.
A quick run to the old wooden gate,
and we were back on Grandma’s garden path,
with freshly cut grass, wildflowers and roses,
our absence unnoticed, our memories enriched.

Jeanne I. Lakatos  2011

10 February, 2011

Poetry Bus: Genesis


This week's Poetry Bus is driven by the disappearing Dana Bug. She gave us a few options, and I chose the photo with the frozen sofa. 

A frozen flash memoir: 
Sofa! 
It was one long, snow-ful winter, and this sofa just had to go. The trash company promised to pick up  the old worn out sofa... no problem... same time, too! Now, trash day arrived, and it was a balmy 45º. It seemed that everyone and their kin decided to take a stroll past the house with an old couch strategically placed on top of the piled snow right at the edge of the street. Hours passed slowly. That particular day, the trash truck didn't arrive until very late in the afternoon, yet each walker, runner, bike rider craned his/her neck to get a good view of this ugly piece of furniture, shifting as the snow pile  melted. Ugh! An entire day of sheer embarrassment! 

And  here's a poem... but on another perception of the sofa in snow: 

Genesis
Another one of those days!
But now she is home;
it would all be better.
Except it wouldn’t -
cold, ice cold, here, there.
Her thoughts darken:
nothing familiar about
their contrived door
through which she’d never
be granted permission to enter.
So she lay down her head
weary of the insanity
surrounded by frigid cruelty,
even her warm tears,
now icicles crudely formed,
dangle precariously
from her drifting mind.
Then, a warmth envelops her
as she dies to surrender.

Jeanne I. Lakatos  2011

09 January, 2011

Poetry Bus: Bluebird

This week, TFE's Poetry Bus  has Kate the Emerging Writer as its driver. She has provided us with three excellent prompts, and I've chosen to apply my own version of l'esprit d'escalier for Prompt III and a little of Prompt II, too, so I guess this is a combo plate. For those unfamiliar with bluebirds, they are the most beautiful little birds on the planet. Below, I've included a lovely photo of one for your viewing pleasure.

Photo by Isidor Jeklin
Bluebird
Letting the pen fall,
she sighed into a dream.
There, her responses
were perfectly timed
and no one left the room
unaffected.
She was strong, efficient.
Perseverance was her game.
Not one soul
would even consider
challenging her decisions.
They wouldn’t dare.

A bluebird awakened her.
So small, beautiful
iridescent blue
and sweetly chirping,
suddenly, it darted past her
and again in the other direction.
Soon, she saw a pair of wings
much larger, bolder.
That bird flew high and away.
The bluebird perched
on a limb of the maple tree,
panting, confident,
dreaming.


Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011