Take Time

Take Time

When the day has flown at rocket speed,

take time.

When the dog is barking in Kitty's face, 

take time.

When daily demands seem to overwhelm,

take time.

Take time to feel each moment's special glory.

Take time to hear the beauty in a sweet bird's voice.

Take time to love each task for its own story, 

and soon, the Infinite Beam

of life's loving Beacon

transforms the ordinary 

into extraordinary, 

creating simplicity

in time. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(You can hear my reading of this poem by clicking HERE.)

1872: Victoria Woodhull, the FIRST female candidate for the United States presidency

Sorry Kamala fans....you're LATE!

A Doe's Vision

 

A resting buck, photo from Google Images

I wrote this poem directly after viewing a young buck with antlers just emerging, find a shaded spot in the wooded glen right outside my window. He didn't know I was observing him, and he looked so peaceful, just resting there among the trees on the softened earth. He reminded me of my own 'buck,' my son, who at the time was a pre-teen...thus, the poem: 

A Doe's Vision

Rest, young buck, now rest.

Do not fear that I am watching you.

Your life is safe within my eyes.

Yes, be careful and aware

of all the new and strange annoyances

surrounding you.

Now search for that tranquility.

Nourish your body and soul.

Relax, for soon the changes come, 

and your precious, budding years

will all be gone.

Rest, my young and precious buck.

My loving eyes adore you.

Worry not.

You have found safe harbor 

in my eyes. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem, click HERE.)

A Sonnet: Four Soles, Soulful Foursome

The photo below is one on which I've based my sonnet, written in a Spenserian Sonnet format.

For fun, click onto: Billy Collins former United States Poet Laureate, to read his satirical view of sonnets, cleverly entitled, "Sonnet."

Four Soles,  Soulful Foursome

Idyllically, they travel with an aim

and quickly learn that truth rests in a friend, 

for surely, they’ll discover life’s no game. 

A splendid road will definitely bend. 

These traveling souls of four know not of end, 

for they rely on trusting gifts of love: 

one pulls with strength, one’s job is to attend 

two brothers with one mind, blessed from above 

with dreams conjoined like wings that lift the dove. 

Four souls of spirit and vitality

advance with might and shared awareness of

their vision for determined liberty.

A humble vessel pulled by four strong soles,

transporting dreams, fulfilling simple goals.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

Last Yellow Leaf

A last yellow leaf from one of my trees

I posted this poem about a month ago. However, the leaves are really being blown by the usual northwest winds around here now. One maple tree in my yard has lost all of its leaves. Even the beautiful Catalpa tree is letting go of its large, heart-shaped leaves. That means it's time to take out that annual aerobic leaf remover: the rake, and I love it! 

Autumnal leaves release themselves from the summer branches and delicately float toward the fertile ground, continuing their labor of renewal and fulfilling their simple task of breathing truth into a complicated world. This poem is one inspired by the last yellow leaf to fall.

Last Yellow Leaf

Clinging to the dormant branch, 

she glows, knowing 

that His Love envelops 

with strength and purpose,

the brilliance beaming through. 
A gust of the north wind

sends this last yellow leaf

on its way to life’s 

glorious fulfillment. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, Click HERE.)

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. 

One October Day

 

One October Day

Today, I took my usual walk 
and what did I hear? 
Golden leaves tumbling through the branches
spinning, dancing, composing 
the joyful sonance
of a thousand hands clapping. 
A few leaves tumbled onto my head. 
(Does this mean my prayers have been answered?)
Trees with variegated shades of russet, gold, red, and green, 
like giant bouquets presented from the azure sky.
Old rock walls display their historical wisdom 
as they uphold the dried, withered vines 
from Summer's sun. 
People walking, riding bikes, 
chatting with friends on their phones
 pass me by, 
each one smiling, nodding 'hello,' 
for this lovely day brings with it
a heavenly Spirit
through sighs of a gentle breeze, 
the chirping of sweet birds, 
Solace 
in the heart of each passer-by,
in my heart, too,
and I am grateful for it. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To listen to My reading of this poem on Pod-omatic. Click HERE )

God's Peace

God's Peace

On this sea of doubt, 
I long to sail away
with a guiding breeze 
of everlasting peace, 
Peace with God. 
Through the ebb and flow
of fervent prayer,
I find confidence  
as He moves my heart 
in the direction of Infinite Love,
magnifying Joy,
discerning 

His Divine purpose.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet

I hand-stitched this quilt of 'maple leaf' blocks.

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet 

The warmth of summer comes to an end
and feathered songs move onward.
A gentle breeze causes branches to bend
as the north wind beckons to be honored.

Pieces of cloth arranged with care
come alive in a forgotten room.
They're skillfully pieced with knowing flair
as the mum just waiting to bloom.

The autumnal chill in the air feels grand.
The windows, now closed, reveal hues of gold.
Steaming soup's on the stove, and with needle in hand
a quilter works on her pattern of old.

Now is the time to fill one's heart right
with warmth that will gratify a cold winter's night.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can listen to my reading of this poem by clicking HERE.

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

(Click HERE to hear Ella and Duke Ellington)    

 Click HERE to hear Beethoven's Symphony #9

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 considered the jazz musical artists, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington as they collaborate to perform "It Don't Mean a Thing If it Ain't Got that Swing...."  I chose both. Click above to hear the jazz and/or Beethoven. 

Flow

Waves of sensuous melody

gently stroke the basilar.

The chamber of each hair cell

bursts with the flow

of pulsating charges

stimulating selected neurons

that stir the memory's charm.

Blood flows faster,

determined as voices surge

through the vibrating membrane.

Physical synchronizes

with emotional energy,

aching- soothing,

dissonance resolving

harmonies coalesce

in this resonating

flow. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, click HERE.)

One Autumn Morning

I created the following from today's facebook post because it was such a beautiful autumn day in Connecticut. It's extended a bit from pure inspiration. 

One Autumn Morning

On cool, crisp, autumn mornings, 

such as this, 

isn't it grand to sip a cup of coffee, 

set the world's troubles aside for a moment, 

observe the golden leaves falling 

from generous branches, 

knowing full well that eventually, 

those fallen whispers 

of joy and love

dancing through the air

as if they have one more chance,

one more hope 

to share in life's pleasures,

will be swept up 

and added to the compost

where they will begin life anew,

and the circuitous path begins.

©Jeanne I. Lakatos

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

I've been up late at night recently, researching and writing my third book. Below is something to ponder 😏: 

Photo taken from my deck one night

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

He galvanizes her

with cerebral massage.

Inhaling - exhaling,

his ancient, whispering breath

intellectually touches,

gently caresses, stirs.

Opening her mind

with vigorous contemplation,

she welcomes his

point of view.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Aurora Borealis

When the local meteorologist suggested that we, in Connecticut, would be able to see the geomagnetic event, an Aurora Borealis, I thought, "Okay, I'll check it out." Well, I looked out my backdoor window, which faces northward, and there it was: a beautiful, pinkish maroon sky amidst the stars. My camera barely captured the view. This was exactly as I saw the sky in Connecticut:

Aurora in Western Connecticut, Oct. 10, 2024

Auroras in Pleasant Valley, New York, Oct. 10, 2024

Aurora Borealis

I search the evening sky to see

the stars staring back at me 

at their usual positions

in the heavenly firmament.

Then, my eyes, are they deceiving me? 

There it is... softest glow of pink and maroon,

enveloping a fluffy mass of light clouds.

It makes me wonder if another's eyes 

are viewing this heavenly sight,

a shared brilliance from stars and aurora.

I thank God for allowing me 

the glorious view of the rosy hue, 

this geomagnetic event:

Aurora Borealis. 

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

 

Comfort is a Crackling Fire

My Fireplace 

Comfort is a Crackling Fire

Another one of those days!

But now she is home;

it would all be better.

Except it wouldn’t -

cold, ice cold, here, there.

Her thoughts darken:

nothing familiar about

their contrived 'door'

through which she’d never

be granted permission to enter.

So she lay down her head

weary of the insanity

surrounded by frigid cruelty.

Even her warm tears,

now icicles crudely formed,

dangle precariously

from her drifting mind.

The sound of the crackling fire

in the fireplace 

envelops her

as she sleeps to surrender.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

One Toothy Smile... for a Price

Photo from Google Images: 6thsenselondon.com

One Toothy Smile... for a Price

The last time I was there,

she scrubbed and scraped

poked and prodded

flossed and fussed

asked me questions

and seemed to understand

my mouth-filled speech,

draped an x-ray proof

jacket upon me

left the room

to "take pictures"

stuffed my mouth

with a fluoride tooth tray

again left the room

called in the physician

who poked and prodded

gaped and nodded

examined the pictures

and stated quite satisfied,

“Your teeth are fine!”

Upon checking out,

the receptionist announced,

“That’ll be $400.00, please,

and would you like to make an appointment 

for 6 months from now?”

I’ll return...

when my tooth aches

more than my wallet.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Reservoir of Drought

Whilst so many people struggle with the aftermath from the forces of water released during the track of  Hurricane Helene, others in this same country struggle with a lack of precipitation. Contrasts in need for prayer!  

Reservoir of Drought

Reflections manifest colorful leaves

where gentle birdsongs have moved onward.

A forcible gust brings bend to the trees

as the north wind beckons to be honored.

Dried, exposed banks strive to protect 

vegetation that thirsts for relief

as waterfowl glide and easily detect 

abundantly exposed wild reeds.

Gasps of steam reach futilely for 
answers to struggling pleas, 
but the sun suffocates, intensifies more, 
and rain is nowhere to be seen.

Now is the time for prayer to go out
for release from this voracious drought. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(My reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic at the bottom of this page.)