The Song - An Amhran

Below, I've posted a small poem that I wrote having taken a few Irish Gaeilge classes. I'm still not sure if the grammar is correct, but I think you'll get the idea anyway. I took the photograph just as I was leaving a conference at NUI Galway. I didn't know just how gorgeous the beach was until I was on my way out of town and passed this view heading out on my way to Sligo. 

I took this photo of Galway Beach, Ireland

The Song                                          An Amhran

On the wind, the song sails              Ar na gaoth, an amhran ag sceoladh 

to another who will hear                   do an eile an té cloistrail

the sweet language that blesses.       an teanga binn ag beannú.

Gathering the creed of beauty,         Ag bailigh an creid d' álainn,

the song is forever,                           ta se an amhran go deo, 

sweet and praising.                           milis agus ag moladh.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos                          © Á Siobhán I. Glasadóir

The Revolutionary Rhetoric of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)

My collection of books written by Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)

From page 17 of my book: 

            Revolutionary philosophy of the sixteenth through nineteenth centuries provides momentum for the transformation of consciousness, circuitous pathways of innovation and circularity within societal parameters, creating awareness of cultural change, often through literary articulation. During the long eighteenth century, Sydney Owenson constructs her national tales by configuring lexical combinations of Irish, English and European colloquialisms, drawing upon the historical and philosophical perceptions of René Descartes, John Locke, and Immanuel Kant to transform her romantic tales into narratives of political inquiry. She incorporates the German philosophical influences of Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Georg Wilhelm Friedriech Hegel, and Arthur Schopenhauer, initiating innovation in forms of cultural awareness. 

            As her writing matures, her nineteenth century contemporary scientific approach to human dignity resonates with Auguste Comte’s philosophy, revealing her personal experience with societal expectations. Her voice maintains a necessary fortitude in terms of her feminine perspective, placing Irish ideology into the center of English culture at the onset of the Ascendancy, while she illustrates foresight in challenging the political stance of the United Kingdom in the early decades of the nineteenth century. 

Back to School (or) A New Box of Crayons

Many thoughts race through my head at this time of the year. 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 

(or) 

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

Innovation: A Call to Action

An innovative idea is a call to action to make a difference in this world. A brilliant person once shared with me the significance of a single leaf used as a metaphor for the human condition. Since transformation originates from a single notion, I thought this little poem may contribute a genesis of consciousness.  

I took this photo in St. Stephen's Green, Dublin, Ireland.

One maple tree leaf in my garden

 

Be Leaf 

Here

remains the leaf

not insignificant

silent, 

well formed

turned over and over.

Suspended,

it resides 

in belief

sublime.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

Overflowing

A number of years ago, I wrote this brief poem about consciousness, using this fascinating painting by Alex Grey to illustrate. I think it is fitting since this weekend, we celebrate the Transfiguration of Our Lord (and...my birthday):

http://www.artofimagination.org/Images/MemberImages/Grey/Transfigurations.jpg

Overflowing 

Between lyrics and dynamics

a dimension unfolds 

wherein my consciousness 

dwells - interprets 

language and intonation

of body and soul

one overflowing into the other

they- it- I

conflict - confide- coalesce

glorious 

in conscious renewal.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Mid-Summer Magic!

We are now in that dynamic aspect of the zodiac calendar known as Leo, which I am. Below is a little Southern recipe to quench your thirst. You need not add the bourbon if that’s not your cup of tea. ;)

Mint Julep Iced Tea

INGREDIENTS

8 mint leaves *

1 lemon, sliced *

1 lime, sliced *

1 cup bourbon

3 cups cold sweetened tea *

Cubed or crushed ice

* You can substitute Celestial Seasonings ‘Lemon Zinger’ tea, about 4 tea bags with 2 quarts of water in place of all these starred ingredients.

INSTRUCTIONS

Combine first 3 ingredients in a 2-quart pitcher, pressing with spoon to crush mint.

Stir in bourbon and tea. Add ice.  Makes 2 quarts.

My Poems/Flash Fiction : 

Fairy Dust

Outstretched limbs

intricately ethereal 

interlace

a renaissance 

instantly transform

momentarily suspend

reality and fantasy 

ferried 

dust to dust.

*************************

Tea Lights

The tea trickles

through my throat,

settles in, and I surrender.

**************************

The End of the Rainbow

It was a beautiful day, the kind when we loved to play outside all day long, imagining wonderful childhood scenarios of superheroes and lands conquered.

But today, we were on a mission to the Tile Man's house. Mom and Dad needed to buy new tiles.We all hopped in the car, sat in our designated seats, Dad at the wheel, cigarette lit. We were ready. Dad drove to a strange place, down a wooded lane to a quaint, pastel painted cottage. My siblings and I were instructed,"Play quietly in the yard, while we go inside and choose the tiles." 

Soon, the sunny day turned cloudy, and I was given the task of going inside to alert the adults that "It's going to rain." And it did. It poured. But... as suddenly as the rain began, it stopped. The sun blazed brighter than before. That's when we saw it! Suspended in mid-air, were glistening medallions, golden, sparkling, glimmering! "What is it?!" we implored. 

Dad's voice answered in amazement, "Well, I'll be... We've discovered the Pot of Gold! There must be a rainbow nearby."

"Oh, Daddy! Can we go out and grab some of the gold?"

"Naw... you have to let it stay right there."

Our young, believing eyes widened. Dad smiled and drove down the lane toward home, as we silently dreamed of the many ways we could use that magical gold. I turned to look out the back window to get one more glorious view. But all I saw was a row of tall, evergreen trees, dripping from a brief, summer shower and a mysterious mist wafting through their branches.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos