Winding Down

 Winding Down

As the old year winds down, 
and a new year begins to unfold, 
I think of ways that I can make
positive change in the upcoming days. 
Winding down,
opportunity presents itself in 
the small, seemingly insignificant daily deeds:
making coffee, tea, or other morning drink, 
teaching students unique ways to think,
exercising to keep my body in shape 
by walking, cleaning, or enjoying the landscape,
praying to God to provide me guidance 
then listening to you with your usual brilliance.
Winding down, 
I know this is right 
for positive thoughts enter my mind day and night.
‘tis good to live in this memorable way
for more days, more years will pass
when at last, we greet that spectacular 
‘One day...’

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear my reading of this by clicking HERE.

Enough of an Artist... Thank you, Albert Einstein

When I was participating in the Poetry Bus poetry workshops, one of the members asked us to follow these directives: 

1: Think of (or find) a sentence. 

2: Delete the second half of it. 

3: Think of as many different ways of finishing it was you can. 

4: Now, delete the first part of the sentence, leaving only a collection of "second halves". 

5: Play with these and compose a poem out of them. You'll probably want to mess about with   the grammar, leave bits out, put bits in, etc. Feel free. 

6: Post the poem.

I used a quote from Albert Einstein, and below is the result.

Photo of my window's view in Reims, France

I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. ~ Albert Einstein

I am Enough of an Artist...

To make my way through this airport

and appreciate the artistry

in each human utterance and smile

creative impulses within,

felt without

To hear music

in the laughter of children,

the voice of God

in the knowing timbre

of an elderly sigh

To feel this train race, passing French villes,

A phantasmagoria of anxious yearning

in the muted colors of graffiti 

blended with determined drops 

of spring rain

To enter a darkened hallway,

and know that the painful hole

bitten into my lip from fear

will heal, 

bleeding into fortitude

So, I taste the blended harvest

in a bowl of vegetable soup

and ready myself for another day

with cherished goodness

of a night’s rest

upon clean, white sheets.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Ballerina

This was a prompt, based on a photo by Keith Carter, which you see below. An example of ekphrasis, you will see my poetic interpretation of Carter's work. 

Ballerina

She had dreams

of becoming a ballerina

but God had other plans

even though she maintained

beauty

discipline

kinesthetic poetry 

on stage.

Up in smoke they went...

forming an obscurity

from which her Truth emerged,

clarified, revitalized:

beauty

discipline

kinesthetic poetry 

in stages.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear my reading of this verse, please click HERE.

Physics of Divine Love

Physics of Divine Love 

Harmony and illumination unconfined
by restrictions of the human mind 
impetuously flit throughout the universe
in joyful exhilaration. 

God's eye sees the vibrance.
God's ear hears the exuberance. 

God's hand touches the human heart. 

God's wisdom guides the human soul

to learn the truth of Divine Love. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Ekphrasis: My poem, "Haven" and the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr

Today, December 26, is the Feast of Saint Stephen. 

Below is a photo of the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr in Opotiki, New Zealand. This picture brought to mind the introduction to a collection of short stories that I will complete... one day. The poem accompanying this photo is a conversion of a portion of my prose introduction to poetic form.

Church of St Stephen the Martyr, Opotiki, ca 1910-1930

"Behold, I see heaven open and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God." 

(Acts 7:56) kjv

~ St. Stephen’s words at his theophany

Haven

They beckon 

the weary-hearted and calloused,

“Come and sit with me.”

Rows of empty pews

moor at a small altar,

each one anchored with a kneeler. 

Her candle lit,
she takes her usual seat

in the second row,

hoists the kneeler, 

then quietly moves it

to the wood floor,

genuflects in the Holy Presence, 

and blesses herself.

With eyes lowered,

she steers her troubled vessel

on an ethereal air,

through prayerful sighs

to the Haven of hope,

His almighty promise.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Christmas Sunset

 

Christmas Sunset, Danbury, Connecticut

Christmas Sunset

The sun retreats on this Christmas Day, 

as I reflect on: 

Peace

in my soul, praying for all who suffer 

from life's distress to find God's Peace. 

Love

in my heart, praying for those whom I love 

to see how their words have inspired me. 

Joy

in my voice, praying for the world to hear 

the music within and share this song with others.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear me recite this poem by clicking HERE. 

A Christmas Poem: Sweet Savor

This Christmas poem was written a few years ago after I overheard a woman in the grocery store concerned that she didn't have enough cloves for her hot mulled wine. (Four bottles of cloves weren't enough? Ha! Oh dear...) I think Mary spoke to me personally that day, whispering into my subconscious, "Jeanne, you have to write this.... now!"  Merry Christmas!

Painting by Andrea Solari, ca. 1507

Sweet Savor

What shall I drink? Egg nog or grog?

What did the Holy Family drink

on that holiest night of nights?

Did Mary lean over to Joseph

after giving birth to Jesus and say,

“Joseph, be a dear and pour me

another glass of Chardonnay?”

To which Joseph replied,

“Mary, Darling, all we have is

a little hot mulled wine left over

from the party last night.”

Or…

Did a father, proud

after such a long trip

offer his bride a sip

of water to give her joy

upon delivering this

beautiful, healthy Boy?

Did the baby cry

in a humble home

and look to his mother,

so beautiful and warm,

snuggle up  

to her swollen breast

and drink of the milk

from the Mother Blessed?

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

To hear my reading of this poem, click HERE.

December 22: Feast Day of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini

 “Work in me, oh adorable Heart of Jesus, because you know well how incapable I am of doing perfectly everything that you want of me." (Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini) 

This saintly woman is important to me because from birth to age 14 years, I attended the Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini Catholic Church in Allen Park, Michigan. I was baptized, attended my First Confession, received First Holy Communion, and Confirmation there. Mother Cabrini has been an important part of my spiritual journey and I am grateful to have learned about her devotion to Jesus Christ from a very young age. 

Fourth Week of Advent

As the final week of Advent 2025 arrives, I have concluded my university obligations and finally, I have the time to enjoy the splendor of peace and preparation for the Christmas season and the beginning of a New Year. Although most of the snow has melted, we've had plenty of frigid temperatures and the meteorologists indicate that a bit of snow may be on its way. Therefore, I fill my heart and mind with gratitude for health, love, music and joy in my life as I prepare for this festive end to 2025. 

Wishing you all a blessed Holiday Season!

Sweet Dreams (Codladh sámh)

Sweet Dreams

Softly the trees sway

breezes steadily pulsating

plummeting my senses

DEEP DEEp DEep Deep

into a serene, sensual

serenade of sleep

slowly sifting

the sands of 

consciousness

into a sea of dreams

where fantasy releases

the genesis of truth.

Jeanne I. Lakatos 2009

"Snow and Wind"

To me, the holiday season includes memories of snow and wind, family gatherings in Michigan, where, no matter how intense the weather, we always gathered at my Grandma's house to celebrate. As an adult, those memories revive with each new 'winter weather advisory,' and, with a lovely fire in the fireplace, all outside hostilities melt away.

Photos taken with my Canon SureShot in Danbury, CT

Snow and Wind

Snow speaks silently,

caresses my heart

with memories,

tickles my soul

with anticipation,

blends with ice

to generate adrenalin

focus.

Howling wind

erases impressions

with its jealous grasp

stings my cheeks

wraps around my bones.

My body shivers

to generate adrenalin

warmth.

Fire beyond the hearth

stoked with trees 

that once shaded, once housed,

once bore sparkling icicles

now draws me into its 

crackling core

to melt adrenalin

dreams.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this poem, click HERE. 

Trains! A Phantasmagorical Journey

Grand Central Station, NYC

Photo from Google Images

One week, my poetry group leader asked us to consider taking the train. Well, my trains of thought below switch tracks now and then: from London's Victoria Station Underground to the New York City's Metro North, which transported me from Connecticut via Brewster, NY to Grand Central Station, NY City, a phantasmagorical experience, centered with love. 

Phantasmagoria

My train of thought travels

along rickety tracks

holding onto every second

of life, whirling images

in hues of benevolence,

common sense,  and innocence

trying to make sense of it all,

love

Thrilling, drilling,

milling, willing,

this train has made stops:

friendships, family,

laughter, tears

love

Dedication, rumination,

allocation, tribulation,

abandonment, containment

achievement, bereavement

love.

Once, I rode the train in London.

It stopped suddenly, and we

were told to evacuate.

The bomb did not detonate!

Divine Love

I stepped through a city of bedlam

eyes of fear, fearless, far from home

found my way to the British Library

back to my daughter’s smiling eyes

alive and satisfied, determined:

Loved

Clickety-click, the clock ticks

in synchronicity with New York City.

Passengers wait, date, relate, abate

whirling past the swans, evergreens,

quaint boutiques of Chappaqua:

country love

to Harlem’s door,

racing past graffiti,

colors smearing, words jeering

interlocking letters on a wall

textual shout outs: anxious, proud

confused, fused, words:

city love

Bridge to tunnel, dark, lights blink

so many tracks, interlace under

this train slowly squeals to a stop,

doors open; we walk through the gates

under a Grand Central firmament

to blend in with the multitude

and I am one...

love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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