"So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies." ~ William Shakespeare
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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) or my semiotic theory of iconic realism at the following location(s):

April, 2022: American Conference for Irish Studies, virtual event: "It’s in the Air: James Joyce’s Demonstration of Cognitive Dissonance through Iconic Realism in His Novel, Ulysses"

October, 2021: Sacred Heart University, Fairfield, CT: "Sydney Owenson’s use of sociolinguistics and iconic realism to defend marginalized communities in 19th century Ireland"

March, 2021: Lenoir-Rhyne University, Hickory, North Carolina: "Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan): A Nineteenth Century Advocate for Positive Change through Creative Vision"

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

11 November, 2009

Buzzards Bay, Massachusetts

I'll be heading out to Buzzards Bay on Friday morning to attend and present a paper at the New England Regional Conference for Irish Studies at the Mass. Maritime Academy. It's supposed to be a lovely day, so I'm really looking forward to the drive. Today, I was still wearing an eye patch, but hopefully, that will be a part of my history by Friday. It would be quite ironic to cross the bridge into Buzzards Bay wearing a patch on me eye....just writing that brings on the thirst for a little rum.

02 November, 2009

Monday Poetry Respite sans le TFE's assignment

While we wait here at the Poetry Bus Stop, and TFE takes a 'breather,' below is a little bit I wrote a while back. If you become confused regarding who is experiencing the emotions, memories in this poem, that's good! I deliberately wrote this to illustrate the flow of memory and emotions between Mother and Daughter. 

by Jeanne, her Mom's daughter

Behind her sleeping eyes,
a youthful face remains within
the gentle embrace of her heart,
impish blue eyes, trying her patience,
the quiet soft puffs of sleeping breath.

She smiles, wondering
what this wee one dreamt,
so small, so peaceful,
then erupting passion
and the sighing relief in its passing,
growing, knowing that surely
there will return a forgiving kiss.

Eyes closed, she remains
in cherished supplication
wafting on the quiet breath
of the one who calls her Mom.

30 October, 2009

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

www.rollingstone.com/ artists/ellafitzgerald/a...
(click to hear, 'tick' in Irish)
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 opted for the classic musical artists, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington as they collaborate to perform "It Don't Mean a Thing If you Ain't Got that Swing...." 
Flow V
Waves of sensuous melody
gently stroke the basilar.
The chamber of each hair cell
bursts with the flow
of pulsating charges
stimulating selected neurons
stir the memory's charm.

Blood flows faster,
determined as voice surges
through vibrating membrane.
Physical synchronizes
with emotional energy,
aching- soothing,
dissonance resolving
harmonies coalesce
in this resonating

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

29 October, 2009

Flow III

Flow III
Tears amid the cheers
reaching for brass, 
thirsting for the flow
only to turn away parched
tongue swelling in dry air
hot with the fever of hope.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

25 October, 2009

Monday Poetry Respite...Go Yankees!!!!

Well, our beloved TFE asked us to listen to a DREADFUL musical piece, and I really didn't care much about listening to it. At first, I posted this as verse; however, I realized that writing stream of consciousness would be more appropriate, so here it is. Those who enjoy reading the Molly Bloom's chapter of James Joyce's Ulysses might enjoy this, too. If you don't, well, there's always next week. 
Meanwhile....YANKEES WON TONIGHT, SO THEY WILL GO ON TO THE WORLD SERIES!!!!!!!!!! Go Yankees!!!!!!!

Fragmented Foray upon my Cochlea

Anxiety, no sleep my mind where is my mind oh here it is right where I left it I can feel my heart beating is this all a nightmare which way should I turn so many doors so many options ah sweet serenity weightless waitless no need to focus ugh dissonance oh no I detest dissonance I'd rather be listening to my Ralph Vaughan Williams or Billie Holiday so much better than this and bellanova's rendition of "Stairway to Heaven" is so cool why didn't TFE listen to MY Playlist I wish this wretched violin would play something consonant consoling not what I wanted to hear today like sharp fingernails slowly making their way across a clean chalkboard oh the hair cells along my basilar membrane reach out in agony to hold tightly onto the ones along the back of my neck misery does love company where's my aspirin my eyes follow the red line to the end of this piece peace there I'm off a little Celtic Reverie to massage my brain

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

18 October, 2009

Monday Poetry Respite

This week, we had a choice of viewing the Irish film, Garage, or reading the poem, "Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath. Since it was virtually impossible for us 'Yanks' to get ahold of the film, I went with the poem as inspiration for this week's poetic adventure. I saw Plath's poem as one dealing with the human quality of arrogance and how it tends to kill one's spirit...had a bit of experience with that this week. Ah, but we really can rise from those ashes through the counter human conceits of resilience and self-confidence. 

Teas in éineacht le Tart

(Heat in company with Thirst)

Do come, oh duplicitous ones.
Sit a spell at my table.
Drink from my cup
of tea or wine, blood or tears.
Which is your passion?
I wish only for your relief
as you have wished for me.

Perhaps, my cordial demeanor
mystifies, and I should be meaner.
You’d expect that, wouldn't you? 
But here am I, Phoenix,
rising from your ashes while you,
hiding behind feathered limb,
suffocate from the vacuum.

Observe! My wings flutter 
with a flow of fine conceit,
while your fanned flames abate
from lack of impetus.
Drink up, then, and taste
this elixir of your own
mind your manners now.

Jeanne I. Lakatos  © 2009

16 October, 2009

Pretzels and Doors

When I think of pretzels, I'm reminded of the interlacing of our lives. We move in and out of doors, don't we? Salty tears and intertwined consciousness move me in specific directions. As I traverse that proverbial hallway, I hear a familiar door slowly squeak close... so I move forward, taking the first step through the next door...

15 October, 2009


A Haiku to Kick off this Blog

Eclipsed with wonder,
a traveler moves through thoughts