Congratulations to President Donald J. Trump, the 47th President of the United States

photo from Google Images

Donald J. Trump has now collected the number of votes to be officially elected by the Electoral College as the 
47th President of the United States. 

It's time to .....

Make America great again!

Sydney Owenson's Rhetoric of Revolution

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.

On a Cashew Nut

Once, TFE's Poetry Bus had Dominic Rivron request for us is to write a poem on something on which we would normally not write... literally.
Well, that particular week, we had been having a100+º heat wave, and my brain had definitely melted.... So, I took my teeny tiny 'PreciseV5' purple pen and wrote the following haiku on a cashew nut. Graffiti for ants! A fun activity!

Cashew Haiku

On this nut I write

I, this nut, write on

cashew deliberation

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

The Wild Irish Girl: a national tale, written by Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)

The Wild Irish Girl by Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) and image from book

1888 edition from my collection

In her novel, The Wild Irish Girl, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) introduces the ‘national tale’ and exquisitely moves the reader through a traditional, romantic legacy. She employs the extensive use of explanatory sidebars to enlighten her readers of unjust penal codes within the Act of Union 1801. 

In addition, she unifies the reader with her cause, that of representing the Irish 'wild' or natural viewpoint of the English aristocracy with her unique voice, illustrating that similar passions faced by women also reflect the power struggle within the intellectual, romantic era. Thus, her choice of the term, 'wild,' is deliberately freeing.  

All Saints Day: Jeanne d'Arc

For All Saint's Day (Nov. 1), 

I've chosen to write of my patron saint, Jeanne d'Arc, 

whose spirit I've admired for her strength and perseverance. 

Jeanne d'Arc in Battle by Hermann Stilke (1803-1860)

Jeanne d'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 

and truest devotion to God. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

To view a website devoted to Jeanne d’Arc:

 https://www.jeanne-darc.info/

Halloween: Hell-icopter Mom

Having never written a triolet, I thought this would be a good time to try. Any person in the field of education will understand the character described in my entry below. Happy Halloween!

photo from Google Images

Hell-icopter Mom

She hovers with her vexing broom

with scary thoughts and grave concerns

while searching for a teacher’s room.

She hovers with her vexing broom,

her presence marked by familiar rheum.

Common sense she always spurns.

She hovers with her vexing broom 

with scary thoughts and grave concerns.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Trains! A Phantasmagorical Journey

Grand Central Station, NYC

Photo from Google Images

One week, my poetry group leader asked us to consider taking the train. Well, my trains of thought below switch tracks now and then: from London's Victoria Station Underground to the New York City's Metro North, which in 2005-06, transported me from Connecticut via Brewster, NY to Grand Central Station, NY City, a phantasmagorical experience, centered with love. 

Phantasmagoria

My train of thought travels

along rickety tracks

holding onto every second

of life, whirling images

in hues of benevolence,

common sense,  and innocence

trying to make sense of it all,

love

Thrilling, drilling,

milling, willing,

this train has made stops:

friendships, family,

laughter, tears

love

Dedication, rumination,

allocation, tribulation,

abandonment, containment

achievement, bereavement

love

Once, I rode the train in London.

It stopped suddenly, and we

were told to evacuate.

The bomb did not detonate!

Divine Love

I stepped through a city of bedlam

eyes of fear, fearless, far from home

found my way to the British Library

back to my daughter’s smiling eyes

alive and satisfied, determined:

Loved

Clickety-click, the clock ticks

in synchronicity with New York City.

Passengers wait, date, relate, abate

whirling past the swans, evergreens,

quaint boutiques of Chappaqua:

country love

to Harlem’s door,

racing past graffiti,

colors smearing, words jeering

interlocking letters on a wall

tcxtual shout outs: anxious, proud

confused, fused, words:

city love

Bridge to tunnel, dark, lights blink

so many tracks, interlace under

this train slowly squeals to a stop,

doors open; we walk through the gates

under a Grand Central firmament

to blend in with the multitude

and I am one...

love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(You can hear my reading of this by clicking HERE.)