"Clair de Lune" by Claude Debussy, A Deleted Segment of Walt Disney's 1940 film, "Fantasia"

Click below to view the film clip: 

"Clair de Lune" by Claude Debussy, A Deleted Segment of Walt Disney's 1940 film, "Fantasia"

I came upon this beautiful interpretation of "Clair de Lune" by Claude Debussy, deleted from the final version of the Disney classic film, Fantasia. A visual and aural illustration of life's circularity, this film depicts innovation in the art of filmmaking for the time in which the artists and musicians collaborated to create this film. The love expressed in this one scene makes my heart sing. Moreover, I really love the blue tones in the scene above, for they remind me of the very early morning, right before sunrise, when the flora and fauna all contain shades of blue.  

Below is the opening recitative from my operetta, Luminescence, an interpretation of the 13th century poem, Roman de la Rose. It also focuses on the moon as it relinquishes its light to the sun:

The moon, known as Lunula, emits a soft, silver glow onto the indigo and deep green foliage where life renews in the created shadows of the garden’s crevices. Then, she silently dismisses darkness from the fertile land. As daybreak slowly creates an elusive blush, Lunula moves aside to allow her eminence, the sun, its splendid glow in the dawning light. Knowing that her radiance is dependent on the reflection of the sun, Lunula illuminates this shaded, overgrown venue with dignity and grace, providing inspiration for the precious life over which her luminescence humbly drifts. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

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.)

Bluebird Dream

A few years ago, TFE's Poetry Bus  had Kate the Emerging Writer as its driver. She provided us with three excellent prompts, and I chose to apply my own version of l'esprit d'escalier for Prompt III and a little of Prompt II, too, so I guess this was a combo plate. For those unfamiliar with bluebirds, they are the most beautiful little birds on the planet. Below, I've included a photo of one that I took from my living room window... for your viewing pleasure.

Bluebird perched on a maple tree branch

Bluebird Dream

Letting the pen fall,

she sighed into a dream.

There, her responses

were perfectly timed

and no one left the room

unaffected.

She was strong, efficient.

Perseverance was her game.

Not one soul

would even consider

challenging her decisions.

They wouldn’t dare.

A bluebird awakened her.

So small, beautiful

iridescent blue

and sweetly chirping.

Suddenly, it darted past her

and again in the other direction.

Soon, she saw a pair of wings

much larger, bolder.

That bird flew high and away.

The bluebird perched

on a limb of the maple tree,

panting, confident, dreaming.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

"Singing the "Blues"

Every year, when my Siberian irises bloom, thoughts of my Dad return to me. Below is a poem about the irises that he brought to me many years ago. He commented, "They're your flower, Jeanne Iris. The blue matches the blue in your eyes and they bear your name." This was a significant statement, for my genetic 'flaw' of blue eyes had always made me feel like an outsider, for everyone else in my family had brown eyes. 

Blue Iris

My Dad brought me some irises

one day

I planted them,
and when 'moving day' arrived,

those bulbs were dug up
brought along for the ride.

Now, in late May, they appear

bearing memories of his smiles 

more vividly than the previous year

keeping his beautiful memory alive.

As I strive to achieve daily goals,

his voice rings clearly in my ear:

"You can be anything you want to be, my dear...

if you just persevere."  

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

The poem below describes the first thing I experience in the morning. One of my favorite times of a day is that moment when I first awaken, sometimes still dreaming, and I look out my window to a lovely little forest, night animals still calling to their mates, no human sound outdoors at all. It's just before dawn, and just after that 'darkest hour,' and for only a few minutes, everything is blue. 

Just Before Dawn (The Blue)
Eyes open slowly.
Still, I walk along that lovely beach
and glance up to see a small village.

That same, intriguing dream,
now, it fades away
with the early morning mist.
 I feel a gentle, cool breeze
waft across my face
and turn my head
toward the choir of crickets,
still calling to their mates.

An owl wings its way
midst entangled branches,
eerily hooting through the blue.
My gaze reaches the maple tree
standing tall in this tableau
all blue, shades of blue, no other color
but blue... everywhere!

Leaves, tree trunks, even the lone deer,

all blue.

It's no longer evening, not yet dawn.
Sky and sea are one magic hue.
The song of one bird greets me:
a prayer for the new day
in this tranquil moment of
blue.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me read these poems, please click HERE.

Divine Breath

The Holy Trinity  

by Corrado Giaquinto, circa 1754

One morning, I was inspired by the homily of our local priest, Fr. 'Tim.' He was referring to the Holy Spirit and the Hebrew term for spirit: breath. Hence, I penned the following: 

Divine Breath

Enter the Holy chamber; 

kneel before Divinity, 
present on the altar 

in the form of a simple candle.
Surrounded by a feeling of His welcoming Spirit,
a Blessed breath causes one 

to inhale: 
the Cleansing Air of Love and Forgiveness,
to exhale: 

the chaos of hate and compromise.
Over and over, 

this choice is made:
to breathe in the Holy Spirit, 
from His Divine Breath: 

essential to all of humanity, 
the salve that soothes the wounded soul.
Breathe in. 

Breathe out.

© Jeanne Iris Lakatos

A Sonnet: Four Soles, Soulful Foursome

The photo below is one on which I've based my sonnet, written in a Spenserian Sonnet format from the 16th century English poet, Edmund Spenser.

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 

Sydney Owenson, Intellectual Thought, and Positive Change

                                                                                                                 
From my book, Innovations in Rhetoric in the Writing of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan, 1781-1859), pages 52-53: 

In her 1840 book, Woman and Her Master, Sydney Owenson makes the following observation:

As the acquirement of a physical elevation, in expanding the sphere of vision, and opening new and vast regions to the sense, obscures and diminishes the individual details comprehended in its grasp; so that intellectual and moral elevation, which has opened to the mind’s eye the wider fields of scientific research and of social combination, has caused the relative value of the smaller facts presented to its apprehension to be either overlooked, or mistaken. Society has become complicated more rapidly than philosophy and legislation can follow; the actions of man upon man, and those of the species upon nature, have multiplied faster than observation can co-ordinate, or reason control; until a positive advance has assumed the appearance of a relative retrogradation. (Woman and Her Master, p. 15)

The global network of intellectual thought feeds upon innovation within the consciousness of humanity. As one notion spirals to form a new idea, the resulting awareness creates new perspectives on issues not perceived within the current reality of some communities. Knowledge gained from sharing this new awareness provides more communities with intellectual capabilities to affect a positive change. 

Sensuality of the Morning Garden

One morning, the birds were in their glory: singing, chirping, and busy with their daily activities. I live in an area of Connecticut that is blessed with much beautiful greenery and wildlife. Long ago, I looked at this photograph of an abandoned canoe, and the first thing that came to mind was the tranquility of an abandoned garden on a steamy day, much like the one we have here today and such as the one which is the subject of my operetta, Luminescence, an interpretation of the medieval French epyllion, Roman de la Rose. 

Below is an excerpt from my operetta, Luminescence, which might reveal a sensorial view of morning in this magical garden.  

Morning Recitative

(from my operetta, Luminescence)

Lush overgrowth 
forms an inspiring, prolific canopy

Tender petals compete

for limited radiance

of the morning’s brilliance.

Abandoned

by inheritors of this fertile land,

the garden flourishes independently 
in floral splendor.

A cooling brook meanders

through the twisted, scented undergrowth,

creating a reflective ribbon,

adorning this Eden 
with bubbling ballads.

Elegant, colorful bouquets embellish

fertile banks with a natural brilliance.

Soothing resonance musically honors the presence

of Divine intelligence.

Flowers open their petals,

attracting the arrival of winged courtiers,

who pollinate their eager pistils.

They clamor close to the wall,

reflecting wisdom of the struggle

to remain vibrant in this forgotten place.

Their beauty blends resplendent

color with fragrance,

giving the garden vitality,

as one more day brings a splendid luster

into the chaos of the untamed garden.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

I extend much gratitude to the following brilliant musicians, who have transposed (or are in the process of transposing) an Irish melody compiled by Sydney Owenson (1804) into 5 musical genres for this operetta: Dr. Marjorie Callaghan (medieval) and Mr. Daniel Kean (baroque and classical).

Beoufed Up

Below is a poem I wrote a while ago after passing a farm and seeing the cows getting loaded onto a red cattle van. I was amazed to see the reaction of the cows across the street in the lower pasture, obviously distraught. On my next walk, I came across the farmer's wife, and she informed me that the cows were only on their way to their annual check up. Whew!!!

Beoufed Up

Brown cows loaded

into a red cattle van

One last bellow

to spare their ribs

Black cow shouts out

from the lower pasture

"Don't worry, Girlfriend!

I'll meat you on the other side."

This week, the 'girls' will be on the menu:

Porterhouse, Sirloin, Filet Mignon

"Medium Rare, au jus on the side, please."

I wonder,

as the restaurant patrons

pass the emptied pasture

in beefed up red sports cars

with their beoufed up selves,

will there be a longing?

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

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.)

And Now, A Word from Plato...

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." ~ Plato

I took this photo at an International Performing Artists Competition, Merrion Square, Dublin, Ireland.

Happy Mother's Day!

I've posted this poem on both of my sites. This doesn't have anything to do with iconic realism, but realism, yes. It's a verse that, hopefully, illustrates the flowing bond of memory and emotions between Mother and Daughter. 

Sleeping Mother with Child by Christian Krohg, 1883

Breath 

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.

Sixteen years later... 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,

while quiet breaths 

waft through the dreams

of the one who calls her Mom.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos