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Current: Danbury, CT, United States
Welcome! A few years ago, I discovered an application that artists employ in their works to bring cultural awareness to their audiences. Having discerned this semiotic theory that applies to literature, music, art, film, and the media, I have devoted the blog, "Theory of Iconic Realism" to explore this theory. The link to the publisher of my book is below. If you or your university would like a copy of this book for your library or if you would like to review it for a scholarly journal, please contact the Edwin Mellen Press at the link listed below. Looking forward to hearing from you!


I will present or have presented research on Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) at the following location(s):

October, 2019: Elms College, Chicopee, Massachusetts: "A Declaration of Independence: Dissolving Sociolinguistic Borders in the Literature of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)"

10 September, 2020

We will always remember!

Photo from Google Images
Click onto the candle to hear Sarah McLachlan sing "Angel."

Photo from

Photo from Washington Post

Photo from Google Images

 The National 9/11 Memorial, New York City, Pentagon 9/11 Memorial, and Flight 93 Memorial
illustrate my semiotic theory of iconic realism. 
Read more by clicking HERE.

I wrote this poem the afternoon of September 11, 2001 in Danbury, CT, 65 miles north of the horror,  yet close enough to know that the same clouds passing above me just passed over the horror. The wispy clouds almost looked like angels floating above and away from the madness below. Silence… except for the industry of nature.

September 11, 2001

Bellowing clouds of madness
devour cavernous streets
filled with masses seeking freedom
from a spumous potion of death.

Silent plumes in an azure sky,
Blessed by the whispers
of three thousand angels
newly formed, dancing,
mollify this visage of horror.

Delicate cricket chirps, katydid songs,
strong airy wings of a soaring bird
reveal the Love
that can never die.

Freedom prevails.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  2001

01 September, 2020

The Slug: "Fortune Favours the Brave"

"Fortes fortuna iuvat!" 
(Fortune favours the brave!) 
~ Latin Proverb

Sometimes, with certain 'green-eyed (envious) slugs,' we have to take defensive action; other times, it pays simply to observe the power of Light.

The Slug
Hypocritical green-eyed slug
compulsively feeds upon
the entrails of authenticity.

Vomiting truth along its way,
its impish, soul-less self
solely thrives on
cunning insults and ineptness.

It binges on fictional fervor
slinking in slimy skin,
 blinded by its own limitations.

It lurks about for its next victim
to entice with fabricated promises,
while other small, spineless creatures
easily fall prey to its ‘virtue.’


 the Truth that this slug rejects
soon takes on a life of its own,
swirling through the air with sweet fragrance,
fusing with my fortitude.

Yet still, slinking along, the slug
slowly attempts to cross my path…
I lift my elegant boot
to squish it! Squish it good!

Ah, but there's no need to squish,
for below me, I witness:
evaporating in the powerful Light,
slimy innards,
from their lack of substance. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

17 August, 2020

Back to School (or) A New Box of Crayons

Having finished composing the course syllabi for my university students of the new academic year, many thoughts race through my head right now. One, in particular, is a memory of that brand new box of crayons I always looked forward to seeing in my clean book bag, so lovely and organized, ready for the new school year. Hmmm... a childhood dilemma, which crayon shall I choose first?

Back to School 
A New Box of Crayons

There is nothing as sweet as the waxy aroma
of a brand new 64-count box of Crayola crayons
bought especially for that first day of school.
It has the crayon sharpener right on the box!
And oh, the most marvelous feeling:
sliding the very first crayon out of its sleeve.
Periwinkle Blue! Carnation Pink! Burnt Siena!

What does it mean, this little box of crayons?
Summer is over! Those lazy, creative days sitting
under the maple tree, dreaming of 'next school year'
are etched forever as summer memories,
and those encouraging messages 
from last June now come to fruition. 
New books, new shoes, new clothes,
New hope, new friends! Old ones, too, 
but now with new stories to share. 

Early autumn, with its cool breezes, 
whisks variegated leaves that dance 
among fallen, multi-hued apples:
Nature's fresh box of crayons
tossed with a sanguine force that energizes
each step toward the school's front door.
Like the rainbow after a summer rain,
kind smiles herald enlightenment
that radiates from a Teacher's love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

10 August, 2020

Lunula, from my operetta, "Luminescence"

I do enjoy the beauty of open windows at night, listening to the wildlife outside, gazing at the moon.... okay, as long as the mosquitos and other flying/crawling critters remain OUTSIDE where they belong. ­čśë

For my Masters thesis, I studied the medieval French poem, Roman de la Rose. For the creative portion of the Thesis, I re-wrote the poem from the point of view of the Rose to create an operetta entitled, Luminescence. Below is a portion of the Introductory recitative. I hope you like it. 

For your dew is a dew of light, and the land of shades gives birth. 
(Isaiah 26: 19) 
I. Lunula
Beams of moonlight delicately touch Rose’s petals,
crowning this young blossom with a luminescent halo.
This warm evening, amidst the twisted vines and lush perennials,
serenaded by the nightingale’s longing melody,
she sits in wonder, overlooking the neglected garden.
Her dawn has not yet arrived, so she waits
in the fragrant shadows for her moment of radiance to unfold.

The moon is known as Lunula.
Emitting a soft, silver glow onto the indigo and deep green foliage,
creating shadows where life renews in the garden’s crevices,
she silently dismisses darkness from the fertile land.
Lunula glides across the evening sky,
easing toward the end of her nightly reign.
The air swirls elegantly and moistly mingles
with the early morning’s warmth.

As daybreak slowly creates an elusive blush,
Lunula moves aside to allow her eminence
its final glow in the dawning light.
Her radiance is dependent on the reflection of the sun,
so she illuminates this shaded, overgrown venue
with degrees of grace, providing inspiration
for the plant life over which her luminescence humbly drifts.            

Refreshing dew stunningly embellishes each leaf
and produces pearls of floral luminescence
seen only by the nightingales, owls, crickets,
and other evening creatures, hooting and chirping
their final chants in the shadows of this summer night.
The crickets sing their sustained pitch –
luring, warning, and daring anyone who enters
into the moist, fertile, musky world
of Lunula’s momentary grandeur.

© Jeanne Iris Lakatos

01 August, 2020

Winged Inspiration

Photos taken in my garden

Winged Inspiration

a bee flies wistfully,
nectar gathering for the hive,
a butterfly shares the space
of time and floral beauty,
collecting heavenly nourishment.
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

04 July, 2020

Mercy Otis Warren, Muse of American Revolution, 1776

Painting of Mercy Otis Warren

Mercy Otis Warren, given the title by some historians of Muse of the American Revolution, is often neglected in the U.S. historical memory. However, her motivation for contributing numerous literary works on the subject of independence  demonstrates virtues found in the common individual while pointing out the discrepancies in a non-representational government. In her 1773 play, The Adulateur, Warren describes the issue of individual rights through the speech of her main character, Brutus:

The change how drear! The sullen ghost of bondage

Stalks full in view—already with her pinions,

She shades the affrighted land—the insulting soldiers

Tread down our choicest rights; while hoodwinked justice

Drops her scales, and totters from her basis.

Thus torn with nameless wounds, my bleeding country

Demands a tear – that tear I’ll freely give her. [1]

Using the rebellious poetic format of blank verse, Warren creates an image of the capture of justice, illustrating the conception that human beings might be inherently good, but their thirst for power could cause a diminishing of spiritual truth, thus leading to contrived allegiances to governments and other forms of false leadership. 

We thank such brave intelligent writers as Mercy Otis Warren for their insights regarding historical perspectives of justice. 

~ Dr. Jeanne I. Lakatos 

[1] Mercy Otis Warren, The Adulateur, Act I, Scene I, Boston: New Printing Office, 1773.