Bluebell: National Bluebell Day, August 31

Bluebell

The Bluebell is a flower,

symbolizing Constancy and Helpfulness.

And I see bluebells lining the path

of a kind spirit traveling through this life

in the body of a noble person.

To this spirited traveler, 

a dynamic coalescence of meditation and action

form the foundation of relevance.

Steadiness, calm, and a quick smile

follow echoes of hearty laughs and wit.

Bluebells dance at the feet 

of this gentle, jovial spirit.

A vibrant energy and fragrance,

ever present in the serenity,

timeless and enchanting.

© 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. 

Bluebird Dream

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.)

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan): 19th Century Awareness of Cultural Change

           

I took this photo of Sydney Owenson's memorial plaque on Kildare Street, Dublin, Ireland.

From pages 17-18 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 and Immanuel Kant to transform her romantic tales into narratives of political inquiry. 

Her voice maintains a necessary fortitude in terms of her unique 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.

Ha' Penny Bridge, Dublin, Ireland

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.)

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 a 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 ones we have had here recently 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).

A Sonnet: Four Soles, Soulful Foursome

This precious photo displays two young boys, one holding the reigns, one holding a beloved dog, on a cart, pulled by a devoted mule. As another example of ekphrasis, the photo 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 dog, 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 

The Long Eighteenth Century Political Writing of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan)

My collection of Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) books

Citizenry rise to proclaim their independence from legislative taxation without corresponding representation in individual communities. This cry for autonomy creates the atmosphere for the eighteenth century American colonists to stand strong against any form of tyranny and eventually to create a unique form of government “of the people, by the people, for the people.”  This concept resonates with Owenson, as she rewrites her own history to correspond with major events belonging to the American colonists’ revolutionary actions.  

In the eighteenth century, the scientific world embarks on new discoveries. Sight, sound, and the universe embody the main thought patterns during this time. In this context, Marjorie Hope Nicolson observes, “the increasing self-consciousness of the eighteenth century about the sense of sight (leads) to a growing interest in all senses, their processes, and their interrelationship, and to an awareness of the ‘harmony of the senses.’” This encompasses those sensory stimuli, which affect every aspect of the human being. 

Owenson: 

To make her native country better known, and to dissipate the political and religious prejudices that hindered its prosperity...in her works, there was always some principle to be advocated or elucidated…Neither lovers, friends, nor flatterers, ever turned her attention from the steady, settled aim of her life-- and that was to advocate the interest of her country in her writing. (Memoirs, p. 284)

In this manner,  Owenson makes references to familial attributes in her descriptions of relations between Great Britain, America, and Ireland.

 _____________________________________

Marjorie Hope Nicolson, Newton Demands the Muse: Newton's Opticks and the Eighteenth Century Poets, (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1966), p 87.

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.

Take Time

Me, plucking the strings of my Celtic harp

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.)

"But the Greatest of these..."

1 Corinthians: 1-13 (kjv)

1 If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.

3 And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind: love is envieth not, dealeth not perversely not; is not puffed up;

5 Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;

6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Love never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be destroyed.

9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became an adult, I put away the things of a child.

12 We see now through a glass in a dark manner; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know even as I am known.

13 And now there remain faith, hope, and love, these three: but the greatest of these is love.

Beoufed Up

Below is a poem I wrote a while ago after passing a neighbor's 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, who were 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!!!

These are some of the cows that I saw. 

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' may 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 

Still Life Comes Alive

I've had my Still Life posted on this blog for a long time, and this Circular Still Life is simply a gathering of objects found in my office, some of which are souvenirs of Dublin. The complete collection consists of a lovely fern, an old "That was Easy" button from Staples, a coaster from Connemara, an empty bottle that once held Tipperary water, a de-stress ball in the shape of a globe, and a few pretzels tossed in for flavor. The title is Still Life, but life really isn't still now, is it? That said, a circular motion can breathe new life into a moment of stillness. 

Circular Still Life photo

by Jeanne I. Lakatos

Three Haikus on Circularity

Through simplicity

circularity's presence

gathers the spirit. 

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

Guided by the heart

a Treasure inspires

this yearning for the return.

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

See the returning

composed of inner fervor 

rhapsody sows Love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite these, please click HERE. 

Harmony of the Spheres

http://www.pagesofink.com/images/2008/DancingSky_HarmonyOfTheSpheres.jpg

The following is an excerpt from a paper I presented at the Mid-Atlantic Conference for Irish Studies, years ago. I've placed information  about this same topic on my other blog, which can be reached by clicking on the photo to the right.  

Human beings have an inherent need to interact with one another. Yet, they often find themselves struggling with what appears to be the truth of their perceptions. This ambivalence leads to the categorizing of experiences as a way to manage personal reactions. Philosophers, such as Immanuel Kant and Carl Jung, as well as mathematicians, such as Pythagoras and Kepler, have clarified this management in terms of music, more specifically, the music of the spheres.

This concept illustrates that human communication parallels strict mathematical components associated with harmonics. To clarify the concept of harmony of the spheres, one can consider a musical tone that contains the original resonating frequency with overtones creating precise harmonic variations.

Pythagoras’ theory contained the idea that there was a distinct mathematical configuration, establishing a relationship of the harmonic distances between the planets. These harmonics were considered the substance of a planetary influence on the human psyche.

Centuries later, Johannes Kepler clarified this theory with his discovery that harmonic energy emanates from the sun, and there exists an exact harmonic relationship between each planet. Philosophers of the eighteenth century, such as Immanuel Kant, connect Kepler’s theory to the concept of human consciousness.

Thus, music of the spheres represents the harmonics of human thought whereby one idea, emanating from a human being, extends to another throughout the centuries, and overtones or nuances of thought create a new harmonic of the original conception. This new harmonic, then, resonates with another interpretation, and soon, there are many new concepts formed that connect with the original resonating thought.

Frontal Acumen

photo taken by me in Danbury, Connecticut, U.S.A.

In a recent year, we had an extraordinary weather pattern here in Connecticut. As a front rapidly moved through the area, the skies filled with color, then torrential downpours, then sun and warm temperatures. Then, we were back in the freezing zone with snow predicted. As Mark Twain commented once, "if you don't like the weather in New England, just wait a few minutes." Okay, that's the weather report. What does this all mean philosophically?  

Human consciousness continually evolves, and as we move through our daily activities, nuances affect us in ways that sometimes we don't even realize until other events bring these subtle revelations into focus, providing clarity and introspection.

Frontal Acumen

Such grandeur surges

in a moment of wonder: 

guiding, hoping, gusting, 

winds envelop 

swirling reality 

shaking dreams loose,  

sparking an idea 

with Authority. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Upon Viewing the Bog Bodies Exhibit at the National Museum of Ireland

On one of my research trips to Ireland, I visited the National Museum and viewed an exhibit of Bog Bodies. These were individuals who had been discovered buried for centuries within the bogs throughout the country. I was struck by my own emotions as I viewed these remains. At one point, I just wanted to place a warm blanket over their leathered remains and wish them a safe journey to be with our Lord. 

I took this photo of the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin, 

whilst sitting on a bench just outside the National Library.

Upon Viewing the Bog Bodies of Ireland
Inside
the exquisitely sculpted rotunda,
behind exhibits of gold and amber adornments,
exposed in tombs of plexiglass,
lay remains of people
who once held hands,
smiled gently to their loved ones,
kissed softly on moonlit nights.

Centuries pass,

and as her silent witness meets theirs,
she senses a tear's warmth
and whispers a prayer
that their spirits are far away
and at peace.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Sydney Owenson's Rhetoric of Revolution

In the Preface of her 1814 novel, O’Donnel, Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) reveals a continuation of her then ten-year application of revolutionary purpose for her writing:

The character of my sex, no less than my own feelings, urged me, in touching those parts of Irish history which were connected with my tale, to turn them to the purposes of conciliation, and to incorporate the leaven of favorable opinion with that heavy mass of bitter prejudice, which writers, both grave and trifling, have delighted to raise against my country.

Clearly, Owenson is conscious of her aristocratic audience as she utilizes elegant rhetoric in direct correlation with her Anglo-Irish background to make her political statement.

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.)

Alley Adventure

A memory of one of the many adventures my brother and I shared as children has come to mind. Stephen always discovered fascinating places, and I was the only sister who had the guts (or insanity) to go with him. This one was at our grandparents' house in an old section of Detroit, Michigan where each neighborhood had an alley.  Enjoy!

My grandparents' old house in Detroit, remodeled. 
You can see the tree in the background. Beyond that tree is the alley.

Alley Adventure

The Alley behind our grandparents' house

was intriguing to my brother and me.

The grown-ups didn’t want us to go there,

but he knew how to unlatch the back gate,

Sshhh…very quietly, so it wouldn’t squeak.

We tiptoed onto the graveled road.

A sweet yet acrid smell filled the air;

it was a strange, forbidden world.

This day, we discovered a horseshoe print,

embedded in a piece of hidden pavement,

shadowed by the tall grasses growing wild,

fighting for a piece of the dappled sunrays

that played upon the broken cement.

“Only one print,” Stephen whispered,

“Must be from Pegasus.”

Voices formed words in an unknown tongue

and floated from a large window of an old house

behind an unpainted wooden fence,

“Sssshhh!  Ghosts!” he  whispered.

I bent down to pick up a weapon,

a broken shard of brown glass

“This is a piece of magic glass, Jeanne,

from a land faraway… Put it down!

We don’t know what evil powers it might have.”

Reluctantly, I tossed the shard.

No magic today… no spilling of blood.

A quick run to the old wooden gate,

and we were back on Grandma’s garden path,

with freshly cut grass, wildflowers and roses,

our absence unnoticed, our memories enriched.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

Transfiguration and 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, for on August 6, we celebrate the Transfiguration of Our Lord (and...my birthday):

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

The Transfiguration by Raphael (1516-1520)

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:

catenate - confide - coalesce

Glorious 

in conscious renewal,

Heavenly

through the Power of 

the Word made flesh.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

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.