Mint Julep Iced Tea for a Summer Celebration

We are now in that dynamic aspect of the zodiac calendar known as Leo. Today, August 6, is my birthday! Hope you all get a big slice of my gorgeous birthday cake, settle down with a cool drink, and enjoy this sizzling August heat. 

Even though I was born and raised in Detroit, I lived in HOTlanta, Georgia for many, wonderful years, so 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, sweetened, 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.

Heart and Mind Coalescence

Art by Alex Grey, entitled, 

Heart Consciousness

In her book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland, Sydney Owenson observes:

Political philosophy is an extension of the mind’s eye to the whole great scale of civil society, and demonstrating the close-linked dependencies of its remotest parts, affords to the benevolence of the human heart, and the comprehension of the human understanding, a social system, gratifying to the feelings of the one, and ennobling to the faculties of the other. (33)

The human heart and 'comprehension of understanding,' are two distinct entities, for the heart, aside from its organic characteristics, contains the very essence of human perceptions. 

In contrast, comprehension of understanding involves the assimilation of intelligence and critical analysis as they interact with the psycho-physiological structure to form a wondrous flow of human affability. 

Harmony

One heart ~

beating strong

beating true

sings

One song ~

through melodies

sublime

envelops

Two lives ~

circuitous, 

refined

coalesce

Two souls ~

ennobled

by the One.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Three Part Harmony

One week, long ago, the Poetry Bus had Ms. Kat as its capable 'driver!' Her wish for us was to choose our favorite pub and make the name into a character. Well, my favorite pub, pictured below, was Molly Darcy's in Danbury, CT. It was and still is a place not too unlike the old Cheers bar where the owners and staff really got to know the patrons. I decided to choose Molly, an Irish icon from West Cork, Ireland, known for Celtic psychic talents and add her two best friends, Sheila and Cathleen, to create a little three part harmony. The name, Sheila, has origins in Ireland with a meaning close to 'heavenly' and Cathleen (or Kathleen) ni Houlihan has long been a cultural metaphor for the strength and resilience of Ireland. Enjoy!

Molly Darcy's, Danbury, Connecticut

Three Part Harmony

Molly, Sheila, and Cathleen

three ladies, one spirit

dressed in true green

flirting with melodies

of the wild and free.

Once, tears from a dazzling sun

cast shadows on dreams

but they shook off the dread

by using their heads

with hope, intricately sewn

in each well worn thread.

Now, with winks in their eyes

their songs fill the skies.

With their high heels and beer

they stir up the stardust 

from a firmament of cheer.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

BLISS is my word.

Once, one of my professors asked our class to choose a word from Spenser's The Faerie Queene that particularly intrigued us. I chose the word, bliss. Below is a poem that explains my perspective of this word, for I thankfully pray for blessings received each day.

"Praise the Lord with the harp, make music to Him on the ten-string lyre. 

Sing to Him a new song, play skillfully and shout for joy." (Psalm 33: 2-3) kjv

Bliss

In the Oxford English Dictionary

 resides the little word,

bliss

So many entries for this little word:

bless, blessed and even bleche!

Heavenly gifts 

juxtaposed 

with human expression.

We have the responsibility

to emulate higher levels of demeanor

to elevate awareness,

for each of us has been blessed

with gifts that enhance the living

presence surrounding us

moving humanity forward

in peaceful bliss.

My bliss originates 

in the glorious way 

we speak to one another.

I scrutinize others,

make mental notes 

of their paralanguage:
spiritual linguistics

where the core of truth 

generates the coexistence 

of benevolence and deceit: dissonance!

Sometimes, this confuses me…Bleche!

so I retreat 

to Prayer, the voice within, the Glor*

where music of eternal natural peace 

and soothing sound waves of passion

form consonant harmonies,

my personal bliss.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos    

*Glor: the Irish Gaeilge word for voice, sound

Decades à Rose

Decades à Rose

Quivering hands release

rose petal beads

from the deepest pocket

of an abandoned purse.

She traces the Sign:

forehead, heart,

left shoulder, right shoulder;

then gently touches the Crucifix

to her trembling lips.

Clutching each bead, lips pursed,

she whispers the prayers.

Words trickling off her tongue

mingle with questions:

Why? How? Where? When?

Perspiration

awakens the rose scent

by fingers slipping their way

around the chain to the final bead.

Then the one entitled, 

Prayer after... then Memorare.

She recalls most of that prayer.

"Thank you, Jesus, for listening.

Amen."

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Artistry of a Poet's Hand

An artist is a poet is an artist...Incorporation of art and poetry creates illumination of the human experience.

 

Above left: my own feathered pen and ink bottle

right: an illuminated manuscript of the 13th century narrative poem, Roman de la Rose

Artistry of a Poet's Hand

A fine gold nib gently fits

into a feathered pen.

The well of silver and crystal accepts colorful ink,

carefully poured by the hand of a poet.

This artisan of words dips the golden nib  

into the well, slides it along the neck,

allowing excess fluid to gracefully drip

off its gilded edge.

The poet reflects on placement of each word,

and touching nib to parchment,

propels the filled pen to stroke left, then right,

forming each letter with deliberate flourish.

Ornate illuminations of richly hued imagery

in crimson, amethyst, and beryl green,

penned along the borders of the page,

elegantly coalesce genius with beauty:

the Word, inscribed.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

A Flash Fiction Tale of 'Stella, the Ceili-Dancing Squash (Stink) Bug'

bsciencecenter.wordpress.com/.../

For one Monday Poetry Bus, a few years ago, TFE had requested that we board the streetcar named desire and finish a poem that he had begun a while ago, which happens to mention the name Stella (the beer and Paul McCartney's daughter's clothing line.) 

Well, I had an incident with a precocious bug in the Tutoring Resource Center which I coordinated at the local university. After learning that there was an infestation of these 'squash bugs' (or 'stink bugs') in another building where I had just visited, it dawned on me that perhaps, this little critter had hitched a ride in my hair because it wanted to hang out in the TRC. All this inspired a little flash fiction tale with the main character, unbelievably....Stella! So here 'tis: 

Stella, the Ceili-Dancing Squash ('Stink') Bug

by Jeanne Iris Lakatos

A March sun warmed the oak tree, standing at the entrance of the Old Main Building. Melting snow formed puddles in which blue birds and sparrows graciously bathed.

"Oh my," yawned Stella the squash bug. "It's already March! St. Padhraig's Day will soon be here, and I must stretch me dancing legs. What's that I hear? A lovely professor humming a ceili dance?! Why, I'll just leap into those long brunette locks and see where she takes me."

Stella waited until Jeanne passed right under her branch, took a deep breath and JUMPED!

"Ah! There we go!" she smiled.

Jeanne never saw the squash bug, clinging to the top of her head. She moved quickly across the campus, still humming the merry tune while Stella bounced to the rhythm of Jeanne’s Stella McCartney heels clicking along the brick sidewalk.

The professor opened the entrance door to Berkshire Hall and stepped down the hall to the Tutoring Resource Center where she headed straight to her CD player to raise the volume of her Celtic music album. Ah, Stella loved that melody and decided to move a bit closer, so she leaped off Jeanne’s hair, and oh no! She fell right into the blinds against the window...flat on her back!

"Please, PLEASE help me, Professor!" she cried, flailing her dancing legs. "See? I'm doing a ceili dance! The Connemara!"

Jeanne heard the THUNK of Stella’s fall, and peeked behind the blinds to see the squash bug’s wiggling legs. 

"Ahhhh!" screamed Jeanne, "A huge bug just fell from somewhere into the window!" Eeeeewwwww! Someone, please…. Help me get rid of this thing!"

“Thing?!” I’m of a proud line of perfectly fine squash bugs, I’ll have you know,” retorted the indignant Stella.

A brave Biology student calmly held out her hand to the bug. Stella elegantly crawled into her fingers.

"Go raibh maith agat!" she smiled to the student.

The girl gently placed her on a twig outside the door. Stella sighed, "I'll just wait here on this maple tree branch until the Professor returns. I'll jump onto her hair again, and when she brings me back into that joyful room, I'll show her a few ceili steps."

Jeanne thanked the student, thought to herself, “I could use a Stella right about now! Too bad they don’t allow beer on campus.”

Instead, she searched through her Stella McCartney catalog and made plans to buy a new hat.

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

Extra Credit Haiku: 

I, dressed in Stella,

he, with Stella beer, 

chatting through a stellar night.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Face of Renaissance

 

This image of Jesus is in a tree in my front garden.

Face of Renaissance

See the insolence gently float away.

Turn and decide on Godly Good.

Replace worldly ambitions

with the guiding hand of Love.

A world changes to see His face

in all the energy and intricacy 

associated with the simplicity

of renaissance. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

Benoit Mandelbrot, the 'Father of Fractals'

Benoit Mandelbrot

Examples of Fractals (photos from Google Images)

Ever since I learned what fractals were, I've been absolutely fascinated with them. The man who brought us face to face with the beautiful link between mathematics, art, and nature through the fractal equation was Benoit Mandelbrot. Below is a link to an article about the former Yale University professor, Benoit Mandelbrot:

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/insidenova/2010/10/goodbye-to-the-father-of-fractals.html

Also, below is a link to a lovely musical/artistic tribute to fractals:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8ZjPgEF5aI&feature=related

A Pen, So Simple

 

A Pen, So Simple 

A pen, so simple

and fundamental

yet functional

and dependable

somewhat ornamental.

 

A pen, so simple…

of brawny rosewood,

so my fingers could

glide as they write 

to open minds.

 

A pen, so simple,

expresser of mine.

Now, where did I place you?

Oh, Saints Divine,

I implore you,

please help me to find

my much-needed pen

for

without it, 

I feel…………

                                 inert!

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

 

A Humble Creation

I am posting this poem in honor of my daughter's Birthday. She is indeed a 'humble creation of the Almighty Artist.'  

Photo from Google Images

A Humble Creation

With every minute
the Mighty Sculpture
molds and shapes me 
into that which will
inevitably 
become the fulfillment 
of my dreams ~
His promise,
and I can feel
the special pliancy
of His wondrous hands
as He blends
the Sorrow and the Pain
into the sculpted reality 

of Love and Joy 
in my life. 
I am a humble creation 
of the Almighty Artist. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Poetic Version of my Operetta, Luminescence, Chapter II. 'Morning'

a wooded glen nearby

From my operetta, Luminescence, 
a poetic version of Chapter II (Morning): 

II. Morning

One by one, the refrain of each morning bird 
replaces the subtle evening melodies, 
warbling with delightful purpose for 
the one song that harmonizes with hers. 

Soon, the woody patch of land is alive 
with a symphony of delicate pitches, 
led by the bobolink’s resonating voice. 
Echoing through the woods, their songs augment. 

A gentle zephyr turns this undisturbed plot 
into a pulsating, verdant sanctuary of wooded bliss. 
The breeze gracefully embraces feathered wings 
of russet, crimson and blue, as they touch 
the extended branches of the clustered trees. 

Each bough moves in a synchronized dance 
to the brushed rhythms of the singing birds in flight. 
Desire reigns gloriously in this place 
and passionately awaits another day to display 
her energetic embrace with life.

Soon, an auburn beam of light reaches into the center 
of this flora, gently kisses each stalk, 
wraps around the tender flowers, 
and awakens the new buds
for the coming of the empowering sun. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

The Wild Irish Girl: a national tale, written by Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)

The Wild Irish Girl by Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) and image from book

1888 edition from my collection

In her novel, The Wild Irish Girl, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) introduces the ‘national tale’ and exquisitely moves the reader through a traditional, romantic legacy in the epistolary genre of literary style. Moreover, she employs the extensive use of explanatory sidebars to enlighten her readers of historical insights, such as the unjust penal codes within the Act of Union 1801. 

In addition, she unifies the reader with her cause, that of representing the Irish 'wild' or natural viewpoint of the English aristocracy with her unique voice, illustrating that similar passions faced by women also reflect the power struggle within the intellectual, Romantic era. Thus, her choice of the term, 'wild,' is deliberately freeing.  

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

'Dog Days' of Summer

Since we are in the midst of the 'Dog Days' of summer, I thought I'd write a quick verse about living through such days.

One summer day at East Lake, Danbury, CT

Dog Days of Summer

They're here: 

The humidity, heat, and oppressive days

that cause me to long for

 a bright, brisk autumnal morn. 

Temperance abbreviates 

as anxiety prevails 

with the ache for 

one cool breeze to refresh my soul. 

Oh, if only that gray cloud above

would just spill a few raindrops

to mingle with the dripping sweat

on my forehead and neck. 

Oh, Canada...

bring on that northern front

and turn this steaming grip

into a restorative, gentle caress.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

The Brook's Treasure

I wrote this poem many years ago from a memory of seeing a brook, bubbling in the middle of the woods. It's a pleasant rhyme that, hopefully, will bring a smile to your face and a 'treasure' to your heart as you move through your own circuitous path. Enjoy! 

 Photo of a neighbor's pond, fed by a little brook

The Brook's Treasure

For purposes I did wander

For answers I did look

until I finally came upon 

a funny, little brook. 

The brook was not a shallow one,

nor was it very deep,

but in this funny, little brook 

a Treasure I did keep.

The Treasure was a happy song

of life, of hopes, of joys,

and in the interlude there was

a melody of Peace. 

 

The song did have its high notes.

'Twas not without the low, 

and yet, I found that as I wade 

the song would fill my soul

with rippling harmonies

of peace, fulfillment, and the best~

a very special kind of Love

which called me to the test. 

 

I knew, as I sat wondering 

upon this brook tableau

that this was what I muddled for

so very long ago~

a song to fill my soul each day

a song so rich, so rare, 

a song composed of harmonies 

expelling through the air

and filling every twist and turn

with one selected Force~ 

a resolute assurance

of a Treasure true to course.

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me read this poem, please click HERE. 

Flow from Within

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

Whilst deciding to post this 'flow' poem, little did I know that some of my own life experiences would correspond with the poem's theme, written years ago. This phenomenon is a fine illustration of our emotional revolutions. Even though our lives may go through certain trials and tribulations, through the blessings of Divine Love, I've realized, as this poem states, that we have the power within to "release the blissful flow," and I'm determined to do just that.

Flow from Within

Spewing angst 

from the odium,

I ache 

for benevolence

and tolerance 

to stream

 through this tarnished conduit,

praying for the chance to feel

agony evolve 

into opportunity,

releasing 

the blissful 

flow.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

From my Operetta, Luminescence: Rhododendron (Dark Thoughts of Anne Sexton)

There exists a balance of positive and negative in life, and in my operetta, Luminescence, I address this through the spirit voice of Anne Sexton and her associated flower, Rhododendron.

               

                                          Photo from the site: Summerhillgardencentre.co.uk

Rhododendron: Dark Thoughts

(from my operetta, Luminescence)

From the corner of the garden,

a fierce wind buffets 

branches of the Rhododendron.

Now enters the looming danger 

of love’s despair.

Begonia, Narcissus,

and Southernwood

all bode a feeling of lost love

in the midst of this glorious

locus amoenus.

Anne whispers: 

Rhododendron is my flower’s name,

I bring dark thoughts

into this world of fragrance.

I make the lives of my seed

and the surrounding seeds

suffer as I do.

Humanity has attached meaning 

to our nature, proclaiming

that we ignore

the pleas of the world

within our hearts, 

so we suffer the association

with human frailties:

vanity, melancholy, heartbreak. 

But here in this garden, I now see: 

The beauty in our lives

does indeed surround us,

even in our darkest moments,

even in those isolated

hours of despair.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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