Ash Wednesday (image from Google Images)


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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)"

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.