Revolutionary Revelry: Transformation, Circuitous Paths, Innovations, and Circularity

Poetry Jam: Sensuality

2012-01-27T21:46:00.006-05:00

This week, our Poetry Jam has us thinking sensually. Below, is a nineteenth century painting entitled, The Five Senses, by Austrian artist, Hans Makart. I have presented below this sensuous painting an excerpt from my operetta, Luminescence, which hopefully will elicit a feeling of sensuality.

The Five Senses

by Austrian artist, Hans Makart (1840-1884)

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Makart_Fuenf_Sinne.jpg

Morning Recitative

(from my operetta, Luminescence)

Enlighten

Lush overgrowth
forms an inspiring, prolific canopy

Tender petals compete

for limited radiance

of the morning’s brilliance.

Abandoned

by inheritors of this fertile land,

the garden flourishes independently
in floral splendour.

Bathe

A cooling brook meanders

through the twisted, scented undergrowth,

creating a reflective ribbon,

adorning this Eden
with bubbling ballads.

Elegant, colourful bouquets embellish

fertile banks with a natural brilliance.

Soothing resonance honours the presence

of infinite intelligence.

Live

Flowers open their petals,

attracting the arrival of winged courtiers,

who pollinate their yearning pistils.

They clamour close to the wall,

reflecting wisdom of the struggle

to remain vibrant in this forgotten place.

Their beauty blends resplendent

colour with fragrance,

giving the garden vitality,

as one more day brings sensual lustre

into the chaos of the untamed garden.

Poetry Jam: Laughter

2012-01-12T13:50:00.001-05:00

I've been away from the Jam pot for a few weeks and felt it was time to return. Wow! How fortunate, for the assignment is to write about laughter! lol Thanks, Chris! To view more Poetry Jam sites, click HERE.

Photo credit: Public Domain Photograph

from the Farm Security Administration – Office of War Information Photograph Collection in the Library of Congress; Jack Delano, photographer.

Friendship and Laughter

Friendship:

open-faced

to the laughter

that unites

dares with dreams

acceptance of perfection

accompanied by flaws

we amble

through doubts

and burst our guts

united

through the discovery.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Haiku
You stop that right now!
I'm gonna pee my pants,
and there's no place to change!

2012! Watch the Times Square Ball drop LIVE!

2011-12-29T11:16:00.004-05:00

Times Square New Year's Ball, New York City
photo from Google Images

Click the photo above
to watch the Times Square Ball drop on New Year's Eve....LIVE!

Once again, we face the end of a fascinating year and begin anew. Each moment lived on this beautiful Earth is an opportunity to reach the fulfillment of personal goals. As each person contributes positive energy, the world view may edge closer to a state of elevated consciousness.

Blessings to you in this lovely new year, 2012!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-13T12:06:00.001-05:00

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

Heart and Consciousness

2011-11-30T15:43:00.000-05:00

http://c2.api.ning.com/files/euULXEQgkJUGj1mAEzxJvFNLBjVEllILVGKtFKYHLMwbAtayRWlrIfNQpBtcLNH-D4aSS5qfcj-s-jNiaaK3NVc6GMSnitGu/AlexGrey_HeartConsciousness.jpg

In her book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland, Sydney Owenson observes:

Political philosophy is 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. (33)

The human heart and 'comprehension of understanding,' which I will identify as consciousness, are two distinct entities, for the heart, aside from its organic characteristics, contains the essence of human emotions. On the other hand, comprehension of understanding involves the assimilation of intelligence and critical analysis as they interact with the psycho-physiological structure in a wondrous flow of human experience. I reflect on this concept in the following poem:

Flow I

Passion creates verve

whose song desires voice;

now boldly sing

radiate stillness

encircle fear: enflame!

This fervor flows

with molten resonance

angled benevolence

evolution through revolution,

illumined by the intricacy

of simplicity adorned

transformed

with interlacing

flow.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

Poetry Jam: Still Life

2011-11-14T13:35:00.001-05:00

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

2011-10-26T13:50:00.006-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam request focuses on All Hallows Eve. I've chosen to write of my patron saint, Jeanne D'Arc, whose spirit I've called upon on a number of occasions for strength and perseverance.

Joan of Arc's Death at the Stake by Hermann Stilke (1803–1860)

Jeanne D’Arc

Stalwart, spiritual,

she engages

an army

of anxious souls.

Her fate: rejection

inflamed
by the ignorant

transporting her

to glorious praise

from Love’s Source.

Courage endures

through

fervent benevolence.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

To view a website devoted to Jeanne D’Arc:

http://www.jeanne-darc.info/

Poetry Jam: Midnight Blaze

2011-10-20T23:18:00.003-04:00

Our Poetry Jam task this week is to choose three titles from a list and create a poem. The poem titles below are from the Table of Contents of the Norton Anthology of Poetry, fourth edition. I simply closed my eyes, turned to three different pages, and pointed.

Your Words my friend (Canto 21 from Astrophil and Stella by Sir Philip Sidney

Frost at Midnight by Samuel Coleridge

One Flesh by Elizabeth Jennings

Love is a Cosmic Force painting by Alex Grey

Midnight Blaze

Your words my friend

burn through the reverie

until frost at midnight

mystically transforms

our truth

into a passionate blaze

melding two entities into

one flesh.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Georgia June Bugs

2011-10-12T22:54:00.004-04:00

I had to remove the photo of the June Bug. It just gave me the creeps.

This week, for the the Poetry Jam, Chris has provided us with a set of words from which we are to write a poem. After pondering the word bank, my mind immediately went to a memory of one laundry night, years ago, when I lived in Atlanta, Georgia. If you have never encountered a Georgia June bug, well, let me tell you... you are fortunate indeed. The darn things are about two inches long and click and sputter around lights at night all summer long. ugh! ugh! (worth 2 ughs!) Anyway, here's the poem:

Word bank: laundry, laugh, edges, ghost, beer

Attack of the Georgia June Bugs

Snugly against my right hip,

I carry laundry, clean and folded,

in a wicker basket

on a hot, southern night.

Georgia June bugs

circle above my head.

Diving to and fro, their wings roar

like ghosts of B-52 bombers.

I run to escape their clicking laughs;

laundry jostles

over the edges of the basket.

I swoop down quickly

to retrieve escaping bras and panties

before anyone sees me

or those bugs get nearer.

“Don’t you dare fly into my hair!”

Ah, at last, I’m inside my apartment.

Only one goal: to chug a cold beer.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

The Willow Manor Ball 2011

2011-10-12T16:48:00.002-04:00

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!

Poetry Jam: Love Poem

2011-10-08T20:54:00.004-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam asks us to write a love poem. Well, any love poems I write or have written remain a private exchange between the man and me. However, I do have a little poem that I've given to friends in the past as a wedding gift. I hand pen it exquisitely on parchment paper in either Chancery Cursive or Old English calligraphy with iconography to frame the words, and place it in a lovely frame. Ha! Surely, they've been best sellers at tag sales.

I took this photo in Kilkenny, Ireland.

Two Lives

Two lives entwined

through space and time

sharing an opus

together,

each day to bring

a step toward the dream

of Love's harmonic embrace.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Rest in Peace, Steve Jobs (1956-2011) iThankyou!

2011-10-05T22:54:00.002-04:00

Photo of my PowerBook G4, Leopard upgrade

I named my computer, Appelonia, after my great great great... grandmother.

Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.
~ Steve Jobs @ Stanford University, 2005 Commencement

Poetry Jam: The Shy One

2011-10-01T11:49:00.007-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam prompt deals with a childhood hurdle that we had to transcend, leading us to our confident adulthood. Mine was the family tag of 'the shy one.'

The Shy One

“Jeanne is the shy one.”

explained Mom
when she introduced

my siblings and me
to someone new
we happened to meet

My tag was sewn,

identified and neat.

But I really wasn’t terribly shy

as indicated by Mother.

I simply loved to scrutinize

and exercise prudence

in dealing with those others.

A curse back then.

But now I understand;

my pensive ‘flaws’

were precious gifts

of a Higher command.

Indeed, this shy one

has fervently grown,

for my interactions

delicately honed,

pensive and discreet,

have led me to compete

and thereby complete

some absolutely marvelous feats.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Ugly Duckling's Pond

2011-09-21T14:44:00.001-04:00

This week, our Poetry Jam prompt asks us to reveal an unknown from a fairy tale or myth. I've chosen one of my favorites, The Ugly Duckling's pond.

Swans in East Lake, Danbury, Connecticut, U.S.A.

Ugly Duckling’s Pond

Reeds sway

along the water’s edge

as gentle waves

from graceful paddling

of a family of swans

lap up

heartbroken tears

embrace

distorted reflections

of a duckling

furtive and yearning.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Dusk

2011-09-17T23:37:00.002-04:00

This week, our Poetry Jam prompt asks us write a poem from a photograph, as an example of Ekphrasis.

My photograph is of the beautiful East Lake in Danbury, Connecticut, at sunset, just before dusk.

I took this photo of East Lake in Danbury, Connecticut, April, 2011

Dusk

Indigo pond

reflects

a hopeful, graying sky

shades of peach and blue

intermingle

with soft, fleecy clouds

framing the Peace

that harkens my heart

dreaming

of possibilities

Dusk.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Poetry Jam: Better Living through Chemistry

2011-09-10T11:27:00.001-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam prompt asks us to write a poem about medications.

Below is my haiku:

Photo: one of three Rose of Sharon bushes outside my front door
(One has white flowers, one pink, one white with pink center ring.)

Wise medication

prescribed with dedication

illumination

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Mathematical Sets

2011-09-01T17:34:00.006-04:00

For this week's Poetry Jam, we have been asked by Evelyn to write something humorous, not to consider the impending storms, etc. However, since I've just dealt with the aftermath of Irene and Katia is spinning her way across the Atlantic as I write this, that request is a little more difficult to fill. Although what I posted below is something that may not make you burst into a belly laugh, hopefully, it will breed a smile.

Enjoy!

Venn Diagram photo from Google Images

Mathematical Sets

It all figures:

balanced equations

sets of added digits

occasionally subtracted

divided by common factors

multiplied by these too

percentages based on
the configuration
of a situated O

and its relation

to the point.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Poetry Jam: Always Looking Up

2011-08-26T01:31:00.006-04:00

For this week's Poetry Jam, we're 'always looking up' thanks to Mary's prompt. This weekend, I'm a bit distracted for Hurricane Irene is making her way up the east coast toward New England, and all of the weather projections indicate that my town is right in the middle of the 'extreme effect' pathway. We're expecting winds of around 100 mph preceded by tornadoes and 8-15 inches of rain. Tomorrow will be my day for ensuring that I have all emergency supplies ready. Therefore, I've chosen to post a portion the recitative, 'Morning' from my operetta, Luminescence.

An angel hovers over my house in the calm sky a day before Hurricane Irene arrives.

'Morning' Recitative

(from my operetta, Luminescence

Graceful breeze

embraces

feathered wings

of russet, crimson and blue.

They touch

extended branches

of clustered trees.

Selected boughs move

in a synchronized dance

to brushed rhythms

of these singing birds in flight.

Desire reigns

gloriously in this place

as passion prepares for

another day

of feeling

the buoyancy.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Poetry Jam: Be Leaf

2011-08-19T23:06:00.007-04:00

For this week's Poetry Jam challenge, Brian has asked us to write a poem, which is a call to action to make a difference in this world. A brilliant person once shared with me the significance of a single leaf used as a metaphor for the human condition. Since transformation originates from a single notion, I thought this little poem is one that may contribute a genesis of consciousness.

I took this photo in St. Stephen's Green, Dublin, Ireland in June 2010.

One maple tree leaf

Be Leaf

Here

remains the leaf

not insignificant

silent,

well formed

turned over and over.

Suspended,

it resides

in belief

sublime.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Poetry Jam: Poems on Death (and beyond)

2011-08-04T15:47:00.015-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam has Chris at The Enchanted Oak requesting that we write on the theme of death. I have chosen a narrative poem about the American Civil War since we have reached its 150th year anniversary.

A nine-patch quilt, hand-quilted by me

Two Tiny, Nine-Patch Doll Quilts

A tiny, nine-patch doll quilt

lay upon a tiny bed

made especially for Maggie Mae

the year her family fled

from all those scornful Yankees,

who were running through their town

setting homes and lives afire

causing Southern hopes to drown.

A tiny, nine-patch doll quilt

lay upon a tiny crib

made especially for Ellie Sue

the summer when her nib

was loosened from her pen in hand

as the Rebels fired loud

and soon her family stood in fear

with the other Gettysburg crowd.

Two tiny, nine-patch doll quilts

heard two tiny prayers say,

“Dear Lord, please let our battled lands

be placed within Your peaceful stay,

and help our families change their hate

to blessings filled with love.

Then, all of us will recognize

Your blessings from above.”

Two tattered, nine-patch doll quilts

lie in honorable view

for each is cherished dearly

by descendents of the two

who saw their lives so clearly

pass through war’s destructive side

for one hundred years of prayer brought

a Rebel son his Yankee bride.

Jeanne I. Lakatos

Poetry Jam: Consciousness

2011-07-28T11:43:00.008-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam has Ms. Dana Bug as the official mixologist. Our prompt is to write a poem that revolves around ourselves at age 67. That number is significant to me, for both of my parents died at age 66. Since I have a number of goals that I'd like to accomplish before I come close to that age, what will be key to accomplishing any of those future goals will be my state of...

Consciousness

Jung's is collective
containing collaborative
but chaotic compositions
carefully calculated
to create clear cut
caricatures of cranial
cacophonies in crazy
and occasionally corny
creatures who care
about causes and effects.

But mine is coincidental,
caught between
casual and coiffure
occasionally quirky
consistent and tranquil
cautious, concerned
a creatively concocted
course of action,
convoking acquaintances
to collaborate and affect.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Temptation

2011-07-20T23:02:00.011-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam has Mark Bagman and Butler as our guides, and the theme is Temptation! In my poetry stash, I discovered these two poetic statements which allude to the Adam and Eve story, so I thought they would be appropriate. They were written to bring awareness of feminine perspective, so prepare yourself.

Apple Trees by Olbinski

Expression

Muck and mire:

Source of life

truest milk coagulates

to form original temptation.

Little men who have bitten

the fruit of the Tree

claim

it’s simply a rape,

blame

it on a few Voices of Eve.

Feminine sources

of life- soul- strife,

open your breasts

to express

the mellifluous flow

of Divinest Truth.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2008

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

Fallen Apple*

I am the fallen apple.

Ripe with ardor,

I drop from provisional support

and roll into fertile mire

of fecundity, ignominy.
Temptation.

I’ll not rot in isolation.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

* You can read a post about this poem, iconic realism and hear Billie Holiday sing Strange Fruit on my other blog HERE.

Currently, I am covered with poison ivy literally from head to toe, so below is a quick haiku on what I am truly tempted to do right this minute:

Temptation brought on by Poison Ivy
incessant itching
I'll kill each wretched vine
or stay inside 'til autumn

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

2011-07-16T11:37:00.003-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam has Jessica cooking up some fascinating prompts. I've chosen the first one because I've been up late at night recently, researching and writing my dissertation. Below is my contribution to this week's jam pot:

Photo taken from my deck one night

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

He stimulates her

with cerebral massage.

Inhaling - exhaling,

his ancient, whispering breath

intellectually touches

gently caresses, stirs.

Opening her mind wide

with vigorous contemplation,

she welcomes his

point of view.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: New Challenge for 11 July!

2011-07-07T22:33:00.011-04:00

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

Poetry Jam: Rhododendron (Dark Thoughts)

2011-07-02T13:16:00.003-04:00

Our Poetry Jam challenge this week is from Ms. Poetikat, and we are to write about the dark aspect of our flora. At a national conference this past May, I chaired a panel on Gaelic Gothic and discovered that gothic in the gruesome sense is not my cup of tea. However, there does exist a balance of positive and negative in life, and in my operetta, Luminescence, I address this through the spirit voice of Anne Sexton and her associated flower, Rhododendron.

Rhododendron: Dark Thoughts

(from my operetta, Luminescence)

From the corner of the garden,

a fierce wind buffets

branches of the Rhododendron.

Now enters the looming danger

of love’s despair.

Begonia, Narcissus,

and Southernwood

all bode a feeling of lost love

in the midst of this glorious

locus amoenus.

Anne whispers:

Rhododendron is my flower’s name,

I bring dark thoughts

into this world of fragrance.

I make the lives of my seed

and the surrounding seeds

suffer as I do.

Man has attached meaning

to our nature, proclaiming

that we ignore

the pleas of the world

within our hearts,

so we suffer association

with the human frailties:

egotism, ultimate ruin, evil.

But here in this garden, I see:

The beauty in our lives

does surround us,

even in our darkest moments,

even in those isolated

hours of despair.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2005

Poetry Jam: The Song-An Amhran

2011-06-23T16:20:00.008-04:00

For this week's Poetry Jam, Brian Miller has asked us to write a poem that has somehow been linked with a song. I've chosen to post 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 to Sligo.

I took this photo of Galway Beach, Ireland, June, 2009

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.

By Jeanne I. Lakatos 2008 Á Siobhán I. Glasadóir 2008

Poetry Jam: Bicycle Dreams

2011-06-09T11:24:00.006-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam has us choosing between three photos. Since the 'dog days of summer have arrived early this year, we're in the midst of a major heat wave here in Connecticut; therefore, I have chosen the photo with SNOW in it! Whew! I feel cooler already!

Bicycle Dreams

Frozen flakes,

each one different from the next

tumble gently

to fulfill their divine calling

reforming this landscape

into a wintry haven,

providing a cooling respite

for parked bicycles

which dream

of the fun in the rolling

through those upcoming

steamy

'dog days' of summer.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Upon Viewing the Bog Bodies Exhibit at the National Museum of Ireland

2011-06-03T08:10:00.002-04:00

On my recent trip to Ireland, I visited the National Museum and viewed an exhibit of Bog Bodies. These were individuals who had been discovered buried for centuries within the bogs throughout the country. I was struck by my own emotions to viewing these remains. At one point, I just wanted to place a warm blanket over their leathered remains and wish them a safe journey to the hereafter.

I took this photo of the National Museum of Ireland on my last full day in Dublin,

whilst sitting on a bench just outside the National Library.

Upon Viewing the Bog Bodies of Ireland
Inside
the exquisitely sculpted rotunda,
behind exhibits of gold and amber adornments,
exposed in tombs of plexiglass,
lay remains of people
who once held hands and
kissed softly on moonlit nights;
centuries pass
and as her silent witness meets theirs,
she senses a tear's warmth
and whispers a prayer
that their spirits are far away
and at peace.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Jam: Thunder and Lightning

2011-05-15T17:44:00.018-04:00

This week's Poetry Jam challenge is to consider the terms, thunder and lightning. And below, I have done so. Hopefully this week, I will be able to get to many of your blogs since I have a little breathing room... at last! I dedicate this to the dear folks along the Mississippi River and in America's Southland, who have been suffering through one of the worst Spring storm and flood seasons in recorded history.

I took this photo of lightning last summer in Danbury, Connecticut.

Thunder and Lightning

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 2011

Poetry Jam: Season of Birth

2011-05-09T23:40:00.002-04:00

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

Dante Alighieri's "Paradiso"

2011-05-08T23:03:00.004-04:00

Photo from Google Images

http://kidslink.bo.cnr.it/ic6-bo/scuolainospedale/num6-2/divcom/Image8.jpg

Dante Alighieri’s Paradiso

This week, I’ve placed parallel posts on my blogs with both exploring Dante Alighieri’s final book of The Divine Comedy: Paradiso.

Spheres and circularity dominate the theme of this epic poem. Dante often even imitates the shape of the circle with his words. The Pilgrim and guide enter heaven at the convergence of four circles with three crosses. (This use of seven symbols refers to the seven virtues: 4 cardinal, 3 theological.)

The term "cardinal" comes from the Latin cardo or hinge; therefore, the cardinal virtues (Prudence, Justice, Temperance, and Fortitude) are pivotal to any life of virtue.In the Old Testament Book of Wisdom, 8:7, we learn that "She [Wisdom] teacheth temperance, and prudence, and justice, and fortitude, which are such things as men can have nothing more profitable in life."
In The Republic, Plato identified these virtues with societal classes and thus, the very faculties of humanity:

Temperance: produces classes, the farmers and craftsmen, also animal appetites
Fortitude: associated with the warrior class and the spirited element in man
Prudence: associated with rulers and reason
Justice: stands outside the class system and divisions of man, and rules the proper relationship among them

The theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Love (charity), indicate a higher level of consciousness and compassion. Lessons that pertain to each of these virtues repeat throughout the Old and New Testament and within more ancient religious precepts.

Tornado!

2011-05-01T00:25:00.001-04:00

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

Poetry Bus: Overflowing

2011-04-23T12:35:00.004-04:00

This week's Poetry Bus once again has Ms. Nanu as its driver. Our task this Easter weekend is to consider the concept of "excess, going over the top." Since this particular weekend involves my singing in the choir for Masses and services from Wednesday through Sunday, I spend many moments in quiet contemplation, thus causing my mind to fill to excess. Therefore, I've written a brief poem about consciousness with another great painting by Alex Grey to illustrate:

http://www.artofimagination.org/Images/MemberImages/Grey/Transfigurations.jpg

Overflowing

Between lyrics and dynamics

a dimension unfolds

wherein my consciousness

dwells - interprets

language and intonation

of body and soul

one overflowing into the other

they- it- I

conflict - confide- coalesce

glorious

in conscious renewal.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Fiddlehead Feast

2011-04-14T06:10:00.005-04:00

This week's Poetry Bus has NanU, the Science Girl Traveler as our driver once again. She has asked us to write on a full blown spring-ish topic. My first thought was to write about my explosive sneezing attacks, but I really have little time right now with oodles of papers to grade, a chapter to finish for my dissertation, another lecture on my theory this Saturday, yada yada yada, so here is a poem that I revised a bit on fiddlehead ferns, another group of plants that are harbingers of Spring. I included a recipe for Fiddlehead Quiche below the poem. Bon appetit!

Photo from Google Images

http://gallery.photo.net/photo/3454350-lg.jpg

Fiddlehead Feast

Did you happen upon the fiddlehead fern

growing in the woodland mulch,

amidst the other springing buds

like skunk cabbage, crocus and such,

unfurling its primitive merit

with vitality richly designed?

Relentlessly, I search for the fiddlehead fern;

its presence seen, not much,

but then it boldly appears to me,

and I honorably prepare it to touch

my awaiting, salivating palate

that accepts its flavor divine!

What blissful company with which to dine:

this fiddlehead fern ~ a collation so fine!

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

YANKEE FIDDLEHEAD PIE (OR QUICHE)

Recipe by L.L. Bean Book of New England Cookery:

Serving Size : 8

4 Eggs

1 c Milk

1 c Fiddleheads, cooked --

Chopped

2 tb Leeks -- chopped,cooked

1 tb Parsley, chopped -- or 2

1 c Cheddar cheese, mildly shredded

Salt to taste

1 Pie crust, partially baked, 9 or 10"

8 Whole cooked fiddleheads

Beat the eggs with the milk until blended. Fold in the chopped fiddleheads, leeks, and parsley, and half of the grated cheese. Season with salt to taste. Turn into the partially baked shell and sprinkle on the remaining cheese. Decorate the edge with whole fiddleheads. Bake in a preheated 350 º oven for 40 minutes, or until set. Let rest 10 minutes before serving.

Poetry Bus: "I am a Crooked Line."

2011-04-09T01:28:00.007-04:00

Last week, I was making my way to and from Madison, Wisconsin, attending and presenting at an academic conference. So... I'm back! This week's the phenomenal Poetry Bus has Dana the Bug driving us. She has given us a one-liner to consider, "I am a crooked line." Well, the first thought that came to mind was FRACTALS! To view more fractals and listen to some ambient music, click HERE.

Photo from Google Images
http://www.fractalartcontests.com/2007/media/LhrMyRXKX9w!v!gOqzkEBlYSdf8.jpg

Fractal Force

I am a crooked line.

My course

parallels spirit

conforming

non-conformist

weaves between

giving and receiving
audaciously

on the fringe of

purity

infinite

ubiquitous

love
.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Ode to Skunk Cabbage

2011-03-24T06:14:00.010-04:00

This week's Poetry Bus has the Muse as our authoritative driver. That's okay. She'll get us there safely and securely, I'm sure! After pondering the three wonderful prompts, I chose the second one: write a poem on a topic and don't reveal the subject. Soooo... I'll give you all 5 days to figure this one out. It's easy, really, but have fun anyway. Thank you, Ms. Titus, for presenting us with the answer to this riddle!

Ode to Skunk Cabbage

Bursting forth from its ruddy milieu,

it erects from its hooded spathe.

This courageous prophet boldly faces

the chilly air with unique confidence,
guided by a mighty force.

Radiating silently, as if to say,

“Come to me, for I offer

the nourishment you need now,”

his sweetness within calls upon

the daring creature to receive its warmth.

And she responds, and she comes:

the beetle, the spider, the queen bee,

warmed by the generosity
of Spring’s first.

Odoriferous, proud, protective,

he inspires the fragrant flora

to engender beauty.

Now, Spring has arrived

with the burgeoning

of the exceptional skunk cabbage.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Alley Adventure

2011-03-19T09:43:00.011-04:00

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

The Poetry Bus: Odes to Pancakes

2011-03-05T12:57:00.004-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has Peter Goulding as its competent driver. He has given us a collection of prompts that deal with Pancakes, poets and inebriated state of mind. I've chosen to go with the pancake theme with a hint of inebriation in the rondeau form and then a parody of e.e. cummings' poem, "O Sweet Spontaneous."

Ode to Pancake Temptation

There, on my fine bone china plate

a stack of pancakes numbering eight

and neighboring maple trees in a row

provide home grown syrup to amply flow,

as fresh, sweet butter on top does skate.

To eat this meal at such a rate

won’t help in my quest of losing weight

yet hunger’s there; it won’t let go

there, on my fine bone.

Last night’s bottle sealed my fate

through philosophical debate

determined now to my pinky toe

wisdom’s garden I must hoe

as calisthenics accelerate

there, on my fine bone.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

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

O Sweet Pancake Temptation

(a parody of e.e. cummings' "O Sweet Spontaneous")

O golden pancakes

dripping

with sweet syrup

extracted

from maple’s vein

and butter squeezed

from bovine’s teat.

Does humanity

know the sacrifice

from earth’s offerings

for gluttony’s

bliss?

My sweat

pours forth

dripping

sweet with

determination

for release.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Four Soles, Soulful Foursome

2011-02-25T23:20:00.034-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has our fearless leader, Peadar, as its creative driver. From the lovely photos he has posted for us, I've chosen the one below on which I've based my sonnet ticket, written in pure Spenserian Sonnet format.

For fun, click onto: Billy Collins, former United States Poet Laureate, to read his satirical view of sonnets, cleverly entitled, "Sonnet."

Four Soles, Soulful Foursome

Idyllically, they travel with an aim

and quickly learn that truth rests in a friend,

for surely, they’ll discover life’s no game.

A splendid road will definitely bend.

These traveling souls of four know not of end,

for they rely on trusting gifts of love:

one pulls with strength, one’s job is to attend

two brothers with one mind, blessed from above

with dreams conjoined like wings that lift the dove.

Four souls of spirit and vitality

advance with might and shared awareness of

their vision for determined liberty.

A humble vessel pulled by four brave soles,

transporting dreams, fulfilling simple goals.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: The Last Time...

2011-02-17T13:35:00.006-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus is driven by the rookie driver, 120 Socks, and so far-so good! I've chosen the prompt, "The last time I was there...." and below is the poem. For my fellow Americans, Happy President's Day weekend! (I really really REALLY need these 4 free days. How 'bout you?)

Photo from Google Images: 6thsenselondon.com

The Last Time…

The last time I was there,

she scrubbed and scraped

poked and prodded

flossed and fussed
asked me questions
and seemed to understand
my mouth-filled speech,

draped an x-ray proof

jacket upon me

left the room

to "take pictures"

stuffed my mouth

with a fluoride tooth tray

again left the room

called in the physician

who poked and prodded

gaped and nodded

examined the pictures

and stated quite satisfied,

“Your teeth are fine!”

Upon checking out,

the receptionist announced,

“That’ll be $400.00, please.”

I’ll return

when my tooth aches

more than my wallet.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Genesis

2011-02-10T23:32:00.011-05:00

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

Poetry Bus: 24 January, Hands

2011-01-22T00:56:00.017-05:00

This week and next, TFE's Poetry Bus will be driven by none other than NanU, the science girl. For this week's prompt, she has asked us to write about something we like that we think others do not like. I've chosen to write about my use of hands, which some may think is archaic in this current era of technology. Below is the poem:

photo from Google Images: nikkhicupcakes.blogspot.com

Hands

Turning

weathered pages of a centuries old book,

my fingers touch a piece of history

for this page was once turned by gloved fingertips

of a lady sitting by candlelight on a blue velvet chair

her cotton dress, flowing around covered ankles.

Strumming

the strings of a vibrating harp, melodic echoes, soothe

the mind of my precious dog who lives to protect me

love me, comfort me. It's the least I can do for her.

Kneading

dough that clings to each finger until I apply

one more dash of flour to create

the soft ball that will miraculously rise

to form into the sweet, aromatic sustenance of life:

bread, feeding my family and friends.

Threading

a needle with just the right length and colour

of waxed cotton,

slowly I turn remnant pieces of cloth

into a quilted memory to comfort

through the warmth of artistry and pragmatism.

Digging

into rich, brown soil I plant a seed

water, nurture, protect until one day it grows

into a savory food, the source of my love's smile.

Holding

an extended hand, I feel the presence

of a life force, strength, our fingertips, touching

then brushing the tear from a child's eye

warm today, cold tomorrow

fond memory of the gentleness.

Loving

from hand to heart.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Inspiration

2011-01-15T00:45:00.003-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has none other than the amazing TFE himself as its driver. Happy Birthday, TFE! He has asked us to sit quietly and breathe. Ah! A task I can handle! Below is my ticket poem and a wonderful painting entitled, Sophia, by Alex Grey. (Also, I have another PB ticket poem with the same title on my other blog HERE.)

Painting entitled 'Sophia' by Alex Grey from Google Images

Inspiration

With each cleansing breath

she inhales

aroma of the glow

releases

toxic confusion

breathes

purity of heart and mind

feels

the respiration move

through her body.

Through her brain

each thought

dances

to exotic rhythms

as her dream

evolves

from ache to inspiration.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011

Poetry Bus: Bluebird

2011-01-09T14:02:00.006-05:00

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

Poetry Bus: Winter Firmament

2010-12-18T06:44:00.007-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has the divine Weaver as its driver, snow tires and all. Our task is to write something about STARS. Well, it's Finals Week at the univ., and I have 20 more final essays to grade. Then, it's posting the grades and on to putting up the Christmas Tree. Earlier this year, I posted the little poem below on my One Line Poem of the Day note on Facebook, and I thought it would fit with Weaver's request. Okay, now I'm off to make some students' Christmases a pleasant one. Others, I'm providing with that proverbial academic 'wake up call.'

Oh... if you're interested in the Aurora Borealis forecast, check out the site HERE.

photo by Tunc Tesel

Winter Sky

Brisk night air,

unfettered firmament:

the stars whisper

ancient secrets

in this evening sky,

touching a distant dawn.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2010

Poetry Bus: A Wintry Day with Trees

2010-11-27T08:10:00.006-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has the lovely Bug as its driver. Her challenge for us had three options. I chose the one about trees. This poem is actually a collection of my 'One Line Poem of the Day' entries from Facebook over the past two winters. They seemed to be calling me to assemble them here.

I took this photo last winter in Danbury, Connecticut.

A Day with a Wintry Tree

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 2010

Poetry Bus: Blinds Open

2010-11-12T22:24:00.007-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus has Karen as its inspirational driver. Our challenge is as follows:
Write about one of the following:
(1) a time you had to choose between two clearly divergent paths
(2) a time you were called to walk a path you didn't choose for yourself
(3) a time you refused to travel the path you were called to follow.
I've chosen to write about a situation that caused me to make a decision. It all began with the closing of blinds to shield my eyes from the setting sun.

Photo from Google Images

Blinds Open

A blinding

moves her

to close the blind

shielding her

from the intensity.

Outside-

the hour of dusk

palpitates

with a creative verve

releasing brilliance.

Within-

a beam expands

that cannot blind

for memory

sustains the weakest eye.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2010

The Poetry Bus: When in France

2010-11-02T19:16:00.012-04:00

This week's Poetry Bus is driven by the talented Jessica Maybury. Our prompt is to write about an experience with bathing. I am blessed to be affiliated with the Association for Franco-Irish Studies through my wonderful doctoral dissertation supervisor who is the Director of the National Centre for Franco-Irish Studies, Dublin, Ireland. This past May, I presented a paper at our annual conference in Reims, France. Ever since I spoke that first French word in my ninth grade French class in Allen Park Michigan, I've longed to go to that country. Finally, my dreams came true this past May, oh, but not without the unfortunate realization that there were no washcloths at my hotel. So.....

The view from my hotel room in Reims, France, photo taken May 2010.

When in France

In a French hotel in la cité de Reims,

an American searches for a washcloth.
Alas, she finds none in this room,

so she must make do. This is France after all.

Sparkling white tub beckons her.

“Okay, Okay!”

She turns the water handle to HOT

and gently pours shampoo into the steady stream,

splashing the rising water to create more bubbles.

Then, smiling, she steps into the steaming water,

now filled with mounds of fluffy, fragrant bubbles,

closes her eyes and whispers to the 13-year-old girl

sitting in a French class, south of Detroit, decades ago.

“Yes, Jeanne… you will be in France one day.”

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2010

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

BTW.... For the launch of The Poetry Bus Magazine, drop by the Glor Sessions, 8:30-ish p.m. (Dublin Time) around 3:30-ish p.m. (E.S.T.) with Stephen James Smith @ the International Bar on Wicklow Street, Dublin, this coming Monday, Nov. 8.
For those of us who are NOT in Dublin, we can view the show LIVE on the Internet by going to this site:

http://www.ustream.tv/channel/stephenjsmith

Buy your premiere issue of the Poetry Bus Magazine!

2010-10-09T23:46:00.003-04:00

... You won't regret it!

☞ http://thepoetrybus.blogspot.com ☜

'Morning' from LUMINESCENCE

2010-08-13T13:50:00.019-04:00

This week's poetry bus has Chris at the Enchanted Oak as its competent driver. She has given us two photographs from which to choose as inspiration for our bus pass. When I looked at this photograph of an abandoned canoe, the first thing that came to mind was the tranquility of an abandoned garden, such as that which is the subject of my operetta, Luminescence, an interpretation of the medieval French epyllion, Roman de la Rose. Below is an excerpt from one of the recitatives, 'Morning.'

Eugène Atget

Etang de Corot, Ville-d'Avray, 1900-1910

Morning

(from my operetta, “Luminescence”)

The wind gracefully embraces

feathered wings of russet, crimson and blue

that brush the highest branches of clustered trees.

Each bough gambols a synchronized dance

in rhythm with the singing birds in flight.

Their gaze intakes the scene below:

A cooling brook, purling through the twisted,

scented undergrowth, creating a reflective ribbon,

adorning this Eden with an elegant, colorful bouquet

embellishes fertile banks with mystical brilliance.

Soothing liquid-echoes honor an infinite presence.

Morning dew trickles over folded petals

and drifts down each stiffened stalk

to reach deeply into the nutritious soil.

Leaves unfurl to frame delicate flowers.

They gracefully position themselves

to receive pollen for the creation of new life

and shimmer in the morning’s glow.

Each flower silently waits

for that glorious moment of sweet surrender

in fulfillment of her quest.

As the flowers open their petals,

they attract the arrival of winged suitors,

destined to pollinate their yearning pistils.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2004

I extend much gratitude to the following brilliant musicians, who have transposed (or are in the process of transposing) an Irish melody compiled by Sydney Owenson (1804) into 5 musical genres for this operetta: Dr. Marjorie Callaghan (medieval), Mr. Daniel Kean (baroque and classical), and Mr. Ryan Kijanka (jazz- two styles)

The Revolution Within

2010-07-14T00:34:00.005-04:00

"We become capable of imaginatively, curiously, 'stepping back' from ourselves- from the life we lead- and of disposing ourselves to 'know about it.' The moment comes when we not only live, but begin to know, that we are living- hence it is possible for us to know that we know, and therefore to know that we could do more." ~ Paulo Freire

When we walk along life's path, eventually, we acknowledge that creative ground which supports our steps. Occasionally, we need to clear the way of debris, 'lead ourselves not into temptation' (distraction) as we accommodate the footing that moves us forward. Fortitude emerges with the recognition that we have the power to adjust, adapt, attempt, achieve, affect. We evolve; we make a difference.

Revolutionary Travels with a Bee

2010-07-12T10:45:00.006-04:00

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 2002

Sydney Owenson's Rhetoric of Revolution

2010-07-08T16:03:00.003-04:00

In the Preface of her 1814 novel, O’Donnel, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) reveals a continuation of her then ten-year application of revolutionary purpose for her writing:

The character of my sex, no less than my own feelings, urged me, in touching those parts of Irish history which were connected with my tale, to turn them to the purposes of conciliation, and to incorporate the leaven of favorable opinion with that heavy mass of bitter prejudice, which writers, both grave and trifling, have delighted to raise against my country.

Clearly, Owenson is conscious of her aristocratic audience as she utilizes feminine rhetoric in direct correlation with her Anglo-Irish background to make her political statement.

Bloomsday!

2010-06-16T05:23:00.019-04:00

I took this photo of O'Neill's Pub, Suffolk St., Dublin, Ireland 27 May, 2010.

---that was the one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you yes that was why I liked him--- (from Molly Bloom's soliloquy in the novel, Ulysses, by James Joyce)

Happy Bloomsday! In James Joyce's novel, Ulysses, Leopold Bloom epitomizes the concept of circuitous paths, as he meanders through the streets of Dublin on the 16th of June, 1904. The following is an excerpt from a paper I presented in Dun Laoghaire last year. It will be a chapter in a book to be published this year with Peter Lang Publishers and illustrates the use of iconic realism in James Joyce's Ulysses as well as in the medieval poem, Roman de la Rose. The following excerpt from that chapter discusses the character, Molly Bloom, who speaks out in the final 'Penelope' chapter through 40 pages of stream of consciousness and not a punctuation point to be found... an amazing read!

In his novel, Ulysses, James Joyce illustrates parochial dissonance by means of Victorian feminine perceptions throughout Molly Bloom’s soliloquy in the final chapter of his epic tale. Using stream of consciousness in a manner unparalleled at this novel’s publication, Joyce leads his audience to the entrance of the sphere of Molly’s mind, taking the reader to every crevice of her feminine consciousness. Joyce defies the social stigma of women during this era as he interweaves Molly Bloom’s expression of a unique feminine point of view.

Through Molly’s voice, he seeks answers to his own challenge with a feminine defiance of human weakness. The Ireland in which James Joyce lives is in the midst of revolution. As Joyce leaves his ancestral home, he allows his own genius to flourish. He sees the result of the male world’s design for women and seeks to illuminate the world with its significance. His personal associations with women frame the female portrait of Molly Bloom, as he places Molly in the midst of the Victorian era, with its focus on proper placement of gender roles, customs and even nations, carries the burden of living with this regimented philosophical point of view. Joyce designs the person of Molly to reveal traits that originate from conventional Victorian masculine ideas of how a woman should act or think. Joyce writes Molly as one whose actions have a tendency to focus upon her sexual desires. Molly, like Ireland, is a contradiction of human spirit. On one hand, she is independent, wild, yet she depends on the ruler of her heart for identity.

Monday Poetry Respite: Enough of an Artist...

2010-05-31T07:15:00.016-04:00

This week's Poetry Bus driver is Bill. He asked us to follow these directives:

1: Think of (or find) a sentence.

2: Delete the second half of it.

3: Think of as many different ways of finishing it was you can.

4: Now, delete the first part of the sentence, leaving only a collection of "second halves".

5: Play with these and concoct a poem out of them. You'll probably want to mess about with the grammar, leave bits out, put bits in, etc. Feel free.

6: Post the poem.

Since Albert Einstein was such an interesting driver one week a few months past, I used a quote from him for my ticket this week. Having just returned from Dublin, Ireland and Reims, France, below is a jet-lagged concoction.

Photo of my window's view in Reims, France, May 2010.

I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. ~ Albert Einstein

I am Enough of an Artist...

To make my way through this airport

and appreciate the artistry

in each human utterance and smile

creative impulses within,

felt without.

To hear music

in the laughter of children

the voice of God

in the knowing timbre

of an elderly sigh.

To feel this train race pass French villes,

A phantasmagoria of anxious yearning

in the muted colors of graffiti
blended with determined drops
of spring rain

To enter a darkened hallway,

and know that the painful hole

bitten into my lip from fear

will heal, bleeding into fortitude

So, I taste the blended harvest

in a bowl of vegetable soup

and ready myself for another day

with cherished goodness

of a night’s rest
upon clean, white sheets.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2010

Civil Revolution

2010-03-03T07:51:00.001-05:00

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. (Lakatos 2010)

Sepia Saturday: Ana de Mendoza, Princess Eboli from Verdi's "Don Carlo"

2010-02-26T06:49:00.000-05:00

This past week, I had to remove my right contact lens for a day and replace it with an eye patch. A colleague passed by my office and made a comment about Verdi's opera, Don Carlo whose character, Princess Eboli, dons an eye patch. (Too bad she shares her title with a fatal bacteria.) This colleague is also the chairman of our World Languages and Literature Department, so of course, she provided me with some wonderful sites to support her statement. When I viewed these videos, I thought this would make a great 'Sepia Saturday' contribution! I hope you enjoy them...

Information on Ana de Mendoza, Princess of Eboli:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ana_de_Mendoza,_Princess_of_%C3%89boli

Videos of opera:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrbPQjftR CA&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWuGKwGK4I8&feature=related

RED CAR Poetry

2010-01-27T17:56:00.000-05:00

Soooo happy that TFE has resumed the poetry bus extravaganza!

This week, however, we're posting in honor of Nuala Ni Chonchuir's

wonderful book, "Portrait of an Artist with a Red Car." Well, I do actually

drive a red Jeep Liberty, which I have named, Cherries Jubilee, so this

week's dedication is close to my heart.

Below is a poem I wrote a while ago after passing a farm and seeing

the cows getting loaded onto a red cattle van. I was amazed to see the

reaction of the cows across the street in the lower pasture, obviously

distraught. As it turned out, the cows were only on their way to their

annual check up. Whew!!!

Beouf

Brown cows loaded

into a red cattle van

One last bellow

to spare their ribs

Black cow shouts out

from the lower pasture

"Don't worry, Girlfriend!

I'll meat you on the other side."

This week, the 'girls' will be on the menu:

Porterhouse, Babyback, Filet Mignon

"Medium Rare, au jus on the side, please."

I wonder,

as the restaurant patrons

pass the emptied pasture

in beefed up red sports cars

with their beoufed up selves,

will there be a longing?

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2010

Patriotic Sketches of Ireland

2010-01-12T12:06:00.000-05:00

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.

Monday Poetry: TFE's 'Santa a la Go-Carte' ("Snow and Wind")

2009-12-21T08:57:00.000-05:00

TFE's Santa a la Go-Carte has us thinking of the Holiday season. To me, the holiday includes memories of snow and wind, family gatherings in Michigan, where, no matter how intense the weather, we always gathered at my Grandma's house to celebrate. As an adult, those memories revive with each new 'winter weather advisory' and with a lovely fire in the fireplace, all outside hostilities melt away....

photo taken with my mobile phone, Danbury, CT, December, 2009

Snow and Wind

Snow speaks silently,

caresses my heart

with memories,

tickles my soul

with anticipation,

blends with ice

to generate adrenalin

focus.

Howling wind

erases impressions

with its jealous grasp

stings my cheeks

wraps around my bones.

My body shivers

to generate adrenalin

warmth.

Fire beyond the hearth

stoked with trees

that once shaded, once housed,

once bore sparkling icicles

now draws me into its

crackling core

to melt adrenalin

dreams.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009
TFE's link:

Wintry Beauty: "Do...do...do...Looking out my back door..."

2009-12-06T16:01:00.000-05:00

photo by Jeanne, December 6, 2009

As Mark Twain once remarked, " In Connecticut, if you don't like the weather today, wait until tomorrow." Well, as forecasted, we received our little bit of holiday snow yesterday. Today... So beautiful with the sun making its sporadic appearance throughout the day.

Frontal Acumen

2009-12-04T07:53:00.000-05:00

photo taken by me, Dec. 3, 2009, Danbury, Connecticut, U.S.A.

Yesterday, we had an extraordinary weather pattern here in Connecticut. As a front rapidly moved through the area, the skies filled with color, then torrential downpours, then sun and warm temperatures. Now, we're back in the freezing zone with snow predicted for Saturday. Okay, that's the weather report. What does this all mean philosophically?

Human consciousness continually evolves, and as we move through our daily activities, nuances affect us in ways that sometimes we don't even realize until other events bring these subtle revelations into focus, providing introspection.

Frontal Acumen
Such grandeur surges
in a moment of wonder
guiding hoping
gusting winds envelop
swirling reality
shaking dreams loose
sparking an idea
with authority
Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

Revolutionary Thought Begins with Creative Emergence

2009-11-30T23:49:00.000-05:00

'Equality Emerging' National University of Ireland, Galway, photo taken by me, June 2009

A revolutionary idea begins with a creative notion. In John Locke’s An Essay on Human Understanding, he states:

Wherever there is sense or perception, there some idea is, actually produced, and present in the understanding…we [have], as has been proved, no ideas at all, but what originally come either from sensible objects without, or what we feel within ourselves, from the inward workings of our own spirits, of which we are conscious to ourselves within.
Below, is a poem I wrote a while ago to illustrate a similar consciousness that involves an appreciation of that which inspires:

A Creation
With every minute

a mighty sculptor

molds, shapes me

into that which will

inevitably become

the fulfillment

of my dreams.

A Promise.

And I feel

the designated pliancy

of wondrous hands,

blending the angst
of sorrow and pain

into sculpted reality

of laughter and joy,

I, the loving creation

of an almighty Artist.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

Sunday Night Poetry Respite

2009-11-29T21:34:00.000-05:00

Sweet Dreams

Softly the trees sway

breezes steadily pulsating

plummeting my senses

DEEP DEEp DEep Deep

into a serene, sensual

serenade of sleep

slowly sifting

the sands of

consciousness

into a sea of dreams

where fantasy releases

the genesis of truth.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

A Nice Quote by William Blake

2009-11-28T18:26:00.000-05:00

Galway Beach, Ireland, taken by me, June 2009

“To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower

Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.”

~ William Blake