"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)"

21 May, 2017

Praying Mantis

The praying mantis doesn't usually bite the head off of her man while copulating. Apparently, some scientists had at one time starved some of these creatures, and the femme fatales decided the only recourse was to snap off the heads of their men. 

Photo from Google Images

Mantis Religiosa

I, the Praying Mantis
prey upon lesser species
with ultimate finesse.
My wings provide swift flight. 
My auditory channels
hear the smallest whimper,
and I attack my prey
with a lust that must
be satisfied.

When I am famished,
I thrust my acidic sap
upon the male of my species,
and while copulating,
I internally debate
his future. (Oh, I can multi-task.)

Occasionally, magnificently
I’ve been known
to snap his head right off
and masticate his splendid juice
blending our vital fluids
to finish off my day 
with a cocktail of divine love.

Then, I bestow the gift,
my majestic beauty,
as I wrap our offspring
in a glutinous cocoon
nestled upon a woody limb
to endure winter's strife,
and the cycle prevails:
we, the preying mantid. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos