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 in the epistolary genre of literary style. Moreover, 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.  

Listening...

A view of a cold, wet Spring day

Listening... 

I feel strength in the wind today.
It doesn't care what I have to say
because it has a job to do,
spreading seeds and pollen everywhere, 
so I stand very still and listen with care. 

Birds do not chirp as they did the day before, 
but they dart from branch to branch
seeking shelter and food with no worries
about their cold, wet feathers. 
In fact, they seem to enjoy this weather.

Windblown hair wraps around my face
and darting raindrops pelt my cheeks, 
yet here I stand listening
to the bare branches click with delight,
their strong leaf blossoms stand up to the fight. 

Puddles that form along the road 
reflect low, ethereal clouds, 
gliding through the gray sky, 
like pictures painted by a Master's hand.
 Then, I hear a message, simple but grand: 
"Let go; let God." 

© Jeanne Iris Lakatos

Three Part Harmony

One week, long ago, the Poetry Bus had Ms. Kat as its capable 'driver!' Her wish for us was to choose our favorite pub and make the name into a character. Well, my favorite pub, pictured below, was Molly Darcy's in Danbury, CT. It was and still is a place not too unlike the old Cheers bar where the owners and staff really got to know the patrons. I decided to choose Molly, an Irish icon from West Cork, Ireland, known for Celtic psychic talents and add her two best friends, Sheila and Cathleen, to create a little three part harmony. The name, Sheila, has origins in Ireland with a meaning close to 'heavenly' and Cathleen (or Kathleen) ni Houlihan has long been a cultural metaphor for the strength and resilience of Ireland. Enjoy!

Molly Darcy's, Danbury, Connecticut

Three Part Harmony

Molly, Sheila, and Cathleen

three ladies, one spirit

dressed in true green

flirting with melodies

of the wild and free.

Once, tears from a dazzling sun

cast shadows on dreams

but they shook off the dread

by using their heads

with hope, intricately sewn

in each well worn thread.

Now, with winks in their eyes

their songs fill the skies.

With their high heels and beer

they stir up the stardust 

from a firmament of cheer.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Patriotic Sketches

I took this photo of a plaque dedicated to Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan). 

It's located on Kildare Street, Dublin, Ireland, 

where she lived for a while in the early 19th century. 

 

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, Owenson illumines her reading audience with the possibilities of revolution through an elevated human consciousness. Particularly, she mentions "benevolence of the human heart." Currently, in our world, political leaders need to focus on the strength found between each heartbeat, that electro-magnetic force guiding each human mind and make their decisions appropriately. 

Frontal Acumen

photo taken by me in Danbury, Connecticut, U.S.A.

In a recent year, 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. Then, we were back in the freezing zone with snow predicted. As Mark Twain commented once, "if you don't like the weather in New England, just wait a few minutes." 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 clarity and 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

An American Civil War Quilt Poem

Below is a narrative poem that I wrote many years ago
in which I used the American Civil War as its theme.

  A nine-patch quilt, hand-quilted by me

Two Tiny, Nine-Patch Doll Quilts

(An American Civil War Tale)

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 Eleanor

the summer when her nib

was loosened from her pen in hand

as the Rebels fired loud

and soon her family huddled 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 descendants 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 

The Brook's Treasure

I wrote this poem many years ago from a memory of seeing a brook, bubbling in the middle of the woods. It's a pleasant rhyme that, hopefully, will bring a smile to your face and a 'treasure' to your heart as you move through your own circuitous path. Enjoy! 

 Photo of a neighbor's pond, fed by a little brook

The Brook's Treasure

For purposes I did wander

For answers I did look

until I finally came upon 

a funny, little brook. 

The brook was not a shallow one,

nor was it very deep,

but in this little, funny brook 

a Treasure I did keep.

The Treasure was a happy song

of life, of hopes, of joys,

and in the interlude there was

a melody of Peace. 

 

The song did have its high notes.

'Twas not without the low, 

and yet, I found that as I wade 

the song would fill my soul

with rippling harmonies

of peace, fulfillment, and the best~

a very special kind of Love

which called me to the test. 

 

I knew, as I sat wondering 

upon this brook tableau

that this was what I muddled for

so very long ago~

a song to fill my soul each day

a song so rich, so rare, 

a song composed of harmonies 

expelling through the air

and filling every twist and turn

with one selected Force~ 

a resolute assurance

of a Treasure true to course.

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos