Harp and shadow


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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!

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: 
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: 

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


  1. I love
    the flash fiction - I'm still just amazed that the furniture is still sitting
    there after weeks. Your poem touched on the same theme that mine did (except
    mine is MUCH sillier) - being frozen out emotionally. That kind of frostbite
    seems almost worse than the physical kind.

  2. Beautiful sad poem, something we can all relate to.

  3. Thank you for your comment, Socks. After reading your comment, I could see more of the sadness in this poem, so I revised it a bit to be sure that it reflected my true intensions.

  4. Beautiful poem, Jeanne Iris.

  5. I'm curious why your title indicates the beginning of things, and I reach out and embrace that warm surrender.

  6. Ah the embarrassment of old furniture - and yours is even shifting! Animation makes it that much worse - shows all the ugly sides and the abandonment. Enjoyed your fiction and your poem!

  7. Chris, by dying to surrender, one renews in autonomy.

    Ah Muse... if only it WERE fiction! Thanks for your kind words.

  8. The poem is very subtle - frigid cruelty is a dreadful thing.

  9. Yes it is, Peter. Thanks for your comment.

  10. The last line is killer. No, seriously, it is.

  11. Agree, Kat. Sometimes, we need to 'kill' certain toxins in our lives, don't we?

  12. Story and a poem!Some lovely lines in the poem, I found it enigmatic (again!) and very sad. Really well written Jeanne.


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