A Long Sentence, Silence is.

Below is a poem inspired by a number of events involving my family and friends in which the long wait in a hospital sometimes has felt like a sentence. Waiting for word from medical staff on the outcome of a loved one leads to the mixed feelings of worry, loneliness and hope. I wrote this as one very long sentence with the subject Silence and the verb, is because in these moments, we gain strength in the silence. 

 

Coole Park, Ireland

A Long Sentence 

While moist eyes wait

for word of your condition,

inquiring of God 

if I will experience your vibrance again,

though the response is "I don't know,"

though I smile to hide my tears,
though my heart yearns to beat

with the rhythm of your joy,

waiting

for the word that brings hope

for the song of your smiles 

for your breath of “yes”

within is the silence 

of a long sentence

and outside:

the wind,

the rain,

a lone lea,

me,

then the sun.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(My reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic at the bottom of this page.)

Flow: "It Don't Mean a Thing..."

(Click HERE to hear Ella and Duke Ellington)    

 Click HERE to hear Beethoven's Symphony #9

As I considered the music that this 'flow' poem describes, my first thoughts went to Beethoven's 9th. Then, I thought a little more and considered the jazz musical artists, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington as they collaborate to perform "It Don't Mean a Thing If it Ain't Got that Swing...."  I chose both. Click above to hear the jazz and/or Beethoven. 

Flow

Waves of sensuous melody

gently stroke the basilar.

The chamber of each hair cell

bursts with the flow

of pulsating charges

stimulating selected neurons

that stir the memory's charm.

Blood flows faster,

determined as voices surge

through the vibrating membrane.

Physical synchronizes

with emotional energy,

aching- soothing,

dissonance resolving

harmonies coalesce

in this resonating

flow. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

On one of my research trips 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 as I viewed these remains. At one point, I just wanted to place a warm blanket over their leathered remains and wish them a safe journey to be with our Lord. 

I took this photo of the National Museum of Ireland 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,
smiled gently to their loved ones,
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

One Autumn Morning

I created the following from today's facebook post because it was such a beautiful autumn day in Connecticut. It's extended a bit from pure inspiration. 

One Autumn Morning

On cool, crisp, autumn mornings, 

such as this, 

isn't it grand to sip a cup of coffee, 

set the world's troubles aside for a moment, 

observe the golden leaves falling 

from generous branches, 

knowing full well that eventually, 

those fallen whispers 

of joy and love

dancing through the air

as if they have one more chance,

one more hope 

to share in life's pleasures,

will be swept up 

and added to the compost

where they will begin life anew,

and the circuitous path begins.

©Jeanne I. Lakatos

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

I've been up late at night recently, researching and writing my third book. Below is something to ponder 😏: 

Photo taken from my deck one night

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

He galvanizes her

with cerebral massage.

Inhaling - exhaling,

his ancient, whispering breath

intellectually touches,

gently caresses, stirs.

Opening her mind

with vigorous contemplation,

she welcomes his

point of view.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Aurora Borealis

When the local meteorologist suggested that we, in Connecticut, would be able to see the geomagnetic event, an Aurora Borealis, I thought, "Okay, I'll check it out." Well, I looked out my backdoor window, which faces northward, and there it was: a beautiful, pinkish maroon sky amidst the stars. My camera barely captured the view. This was exactly as I saw the sky in Connecticut:

Aurora in Western Connecticut, Oct. 10, 2024

Auroras in Pleasant Valley, New York, Oct. 10, 2024

Aurora Borealis

I search the evening sky to see

the stars staring back at me 

at their usual positions

in the heavenly firmament.

Then, my eyes, are they deceiving me? 

There it is... softest glow of pink and maroon,

enveloping a fluffy mass of light clouds.

It makes me wonder if another's eyes 

are viewing this heavenly sight,

a shared brilliance from stars and aurora.

I thank God for allowing me 

the glorious view of the rosy hue, 

this geomagnetic event:

Aurora Borealis. 

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

 

To Grandma

My Grandmother worked in the auto industry in Detroit, but she also had a special talent for baking Hungarian pastries, cakes, and of course, those great Hungarian dinners. She 'tried' to teach me how to create confectioner flowers, such as those she would make for the many wedding and birthday cakes that she created for people in the Detroit metropolitan area. The key words: she tried. I tried, too. Her patience with me was saintly.  

My Grandma, Anna

To Grandma

I feel your loving presence, 

my beautiful angel,

whenever I touch the petals of a rose, 

for your talented hands taught me

how to form each intricate petal

made from your famous sweet recipe.

No matter how many times I failed,

your tender words of comfort 

soothed my sorrow, my pain,

and through your beautiful eyes, 

I could see that sparkle of life

as you taught me what it was 

to love. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos