From my Operetta, Luminescence: Rhododendron (Thoughts of Anne Sexton)

There exists 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.

 

                                                 Photo from the site: Summerhillgardencentre.co.uk

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.

Humanity has attached meaning 

to our nature, proclaiming

that we ignore

the pleas of the world

within our hearts, 

so we suffer the association

with human frailties:

vanity, melancholy, heartbreak. 

But here in this garden, I now see: 

The beauty in our lives

does indeed surround us,

even in our darkest moments,

even in those isolated

hours of despair.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem, please click HERE.)

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

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, click HERE.)

On this Veterans Day, I say to all Veterans...

Thank you, Veterans! 

God Bless you!

Thank you, Veterans! 

From Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, United States Marine Corps: 

It is the soldier, not the reporter,

who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the soldier, not the poet,

who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,

who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.

It is the soldier, not the lawyer,

who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the soldier,

who salutes the flag,

who serves under the flag,

and whose coffin is draped by the flag,

who allows the protester to burn the flag.

Ekphrasis: My poem, "Haven" and the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr

Below is a photo of the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr in Opotiki, New Zealand. This picture brought to mind the introduction to a collection of short stories that I will complete... one day. The poem accompanying this photo is a conversion of a portion of my prose introduction to poetic form.

Church of St Stephen the Martyr, Opotiki, ca 1910-1930

"I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."

~ St. Stephen’s words at his theophany

Haven

They beckon 

the weary-hearted and calloused,

“Come and sit with me.”

Rows of empty pews

moor at a small altar,

each one anchored with a kneeler. 

Her candle lit,
she takes her usual seat

in the second row,

hoists the kneeler, 

then quietly moves it

to the wood floor,

genuflects in the Holy Presence, 

and blesses herself.

With eyes lowered,

she steers her troubled vessel

on an ethereal air,

through prayerful sighs

to the Haven of hope,

His almighty promise.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet

I hand-stitched this quilt of 'maple leaf' blocks.

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet 

The warmth of summer comes to an end
and feathered songs move onward.
A gentle breeze causes branches to bend
as the north wind beckons to be honored.

Pieces of cloth arranged with care
come alive in a forgotten room.
They're skillfully pieced with knowing flair
as the mum just waiting to bloom.

The autumnal chill in the air feels grand.
The windows, now closed, reveal hues of gold.
Steaming soup's on the stove, and with needle in hand
a quilter works on her pattern of old.

Now is the time to fill one's heart right
with warmth that will gratify a cold winter's night.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can listen to my reading of this poem by clicking HERE.

A Humble Creation

I am posting this poem in honor of my daughter's Birthday. She is indeed a 'humble creation of the Almighty Artist.'  

Photo from Google Images

A Humble Creation

With every minute
the Mighty Sculpture
molds and shapes me 
into that which will
inevitably 
become the fulfillment 
of my dreams ~
His promise,
and I can feel
the special pliancy
of His wondrous hands
as He blends
the Sorrow and the Pain
into the sculpted reality 

of Love and Joy 
in my life. 
I am a humble creation 
of the Almighty Artist. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic, click HERE.)

A Pen, So Simple

 

A Pen, So Simple 

A pen, so simple

and fundamental

yet functional

and dependable

somewhat ornamental.

 

A pen, so simple…

of brawny rosewood,

so my fingers could

glide as they write 

to open minds.

 

A pen, so simple,

expresser of mine.

Now, where did I place you?

Oh, Saints Divine,

I implore you,

please help me to find

my much-needed pen

for

without it, 

I feel…………

                                 inert!

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos