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

To hear my reading of this vers, 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.)

Mercy Otis Warren, Muse of the American Revolution, 1776

Painting of Mercy Otis Warren

Mercy Otis Warren, given the title by some historians of Muse of the American Revolution, is often neglected in the U.S. historical memory. However, her motivation for contributing numerous literary works on the subject of independence demonstrates virtues found in the common individual while pointing out the discrepancies in a non-representational government. In her 1773 play, The Adulateur, Warren describes the issue of individual rights through the speech of her main character, Brutus:

 

The change how drear! The sullen ghost of bondage

Stalks full in view—already with her pinions,

She shades the affrighted land—the insulting soldiers

Tread down our choicest rights; while hoodwinked justice

Drops her scales, and totters from her basis.

Thus torn with nameless wounds, my bleeding country

Demands a tear – that tear I’ll freely give her. [1]

Using the rebellious poetic format of blank verse, Warren creates an image of the capture of justice, illustrating the conception that human beings might be inherently good, but their thirst for power could cause a diminishing of spiritual truth, thus leading to contrived allegiances to governments and other forms of false leadership. 

 

We thank such brave intelligent writers as Mercy Otis Warren for their insights regarding historical perspectives of justice. 

---

[1] Mercy Otis Warren, The Adulateur, Act I, Scene I, Boston: New Printing Office, 1773.

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.

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.

A Steamy 'Morning' from LUMINESCENCE

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 which is the subject of my operetta, Luminescence, an interpretation of the medieval French epyllion, Roman de la Rose. Below is an excerpt from one of the recitatives, 'Morning.'

Eugène Atget

Etang de Corot, Ville-d'Avray, 1900-1910

Morning 

(from my operetta, “Luminescence”)

The wind gracefully embraces

feathered wings of russet, crimson and blue 

that brush the highest branches of clustered trees.

Each bough gambols a synchronized dance

in rhythm with the singing birds in flight.

Their gaze intakes the scene below:

A cooling brook, purling through the twisted,

scented undergrowth, creating a reflective ribbon,

adorning this Eden with an elegant, colorful bouquet

embellishes fertile banks with mystical brilliance.

Soothing liquid-echoes honor an infinite presence.

Morning dew trickles over folded petals

and drifts down each stiffened stalk

to reach deeply into the nutritious soil.

Leaves unfurl to frame delicate flowers.

They gracefully position themselves

to receive pollen for the creation of new life

and shimmer in the morning’s glow.

Each flower silently waits

for that glorious moment of sweet surrender

in fulfillment of her quest.

As the flowers open their petals,

they attract the arrival of winged suitors,

destined to pollinate their yearning pistils.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

I extend much gratitude to the following brilliant musicians, who have transposed an Irish melody compiled by Sydney Owenson (in 1804) into 3 of 5 musical genres for this operetta: Dr. Marjorie Callaghan (medieval) and Mr. Daniel Kean (baroque and classical).

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.

Bubbles

http://www.software-dungeon.co.uk/images/594_amazing-bubbles-3d-screensaver-640-1.jpg

         

         Level bubble from Duck-Duck-Go images

Bubbles

A bubble floats across warm seas,

or saunters back and forth 

in the boundaries of a level,

in sync with those other bubbles

recently settled.

Through their assembly,

each translucent sphere 

contributes structured eccentricity, 

globular bodies of air 

traveling through a liquid,

transforming chaos 

into serene resolve,

such sensible things, bubbles are.

© 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 fluoride cotton pillows 

and with the 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?”

Hmmm... I thought to myself: 

"I’ll return...

when my tooth aches

more than my wallet."

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

From my operetta, Luminescence: Honeysuckle (Christine de Pizan)

Honeysuckle and the Bee 

I took this photograph on one of my walks.

Expanding on the medieval narrative poem, Roman de la Rose, my operetta, Luminescence, is a fantasy of historical women writers' intellectual voices represented by flowers in an abandoned garden. Below are the pre- and post- recitatives, accompanying the 'voice' of Christine de Pizan, represented by the flower, Honeysuckle: 

The lovely essence of Rose’s beauty entices a hungry bee to fly closer. Her petals form a co-mingled scent with those of Honeysuckle, surrounded by Lilies of the Valley and Forget-me-nots. Honeysuckle, through the mind-set of Christine de Pizan, reflects on true respect between men and women as the ultimate example of true love: 

I am the Honeysuckle.

The name given to me is Christine de Pizan. 

I believe that men and women can and should 

live in harmony with each other,

respecting the intellectual 

as well as the physical attraction 

of man to woman and woman to man. 

The bond of the Holy Spirit in one’s life 

holds this attraction together. 

The tradition of reverent love illustrates 

the necessity of the human race 

to display loyalty, wisdom, and understanding 

in all levels of love relationships. 

Through these elements, 

love becomes a reflection of the truest gift, 

given to us by our Heavenly Father. 

Thus, physical love must accompany 

emotional love and intellectual respect 

to be complete.

Rose understands this need to combine the elements of intellect and desire in pursuing love. She contemplates her own reaction to the bee’s advances and ponders the warmth she feels as this creature hovers ever so intently...

© 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.

The Song - An Amhran

Below, I've posted a small poem that I wrote having taken a few Irish Gaeilge classes. I'm still not sure if the grammar is correct, but I think you'll get the idea anyway. I took the photograph just as I was leaving a conference at NUI Galway. I didn't know just how gorgeous the beach was until I was on my way out of town and passed this view heading out on my way to Sligo. 

         I took this photo of Galway Beach, Ireland.

The Song                                                       An Amhran

On the wind, the song sails              Ar na gaoth, an amhran ag sceoladh 

to another who will hear                  do an eile an té cloistrail

the sweet language that blesses.       an teanga binn ag beannú.

Gathering the creed of Love,           Ag bailigh an creid de Ghrá,

the song is forever,                           ta se an amhran go deo, 

sweet and praising.                           milis agus ag moladh.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos                          © Á Siobhán I. Glasaire

The Shy One

The poem below deals with a childhood hurdle that eventually led me to grow in confidence: the family tag of 'the shy one.' 

a photo of pensive me, 2009

The Shy One

“Jeanne is the shy one,”

explained Mom 

when she introduced 

my siblings and me

to someone new

we happened to meet.

My tag was sewn,

identified and neat.

But I really wasn’t terribly shy

as indicated by Mother.

I simply loved to scrutinize

and exercise prudence

in dealing with others.

A curse back then.

But now I understand;

my pensive ‘flaws’

were precious gifts

of a Higher command.

Indeed, this shy one

has ardently grown,

for my interactions

delicately honed,

pensive and discreet,

have led me to complete

some pretty marvelous feats.

Thank you, Lord. 

Thanks Mom and Dad... 

May the Perpetual Light shine upon you.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Daffodils, Forget-me-nots, and an Old Rock Wall

 

Daffodils and Forget-me-nots, along an old rock wall in Connecticut.

Daffodils, Forget-me-nots, and an Old Rock Wall

Daffodils and Forget-me-nots, 

planted many years ago along an old rock wall, 

remind us that others tread along this path. 

We forget them not, for their brilliance lingers.

Their journey has ended while ours continues,

endeavors never defeated by onslaughts 

of storms, heat, cold winds, and other calamities. 

We are strong, resilient, awakening each Spring:

Daffodils, Forget-me-nots, old rock walls...us.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

Fractal Force

A few years ago, another blogger gave our poetry group a line prompt to use for our weekly poetry read. The line was as follows: "I am a crooked line." Well, the first thought that came to my mind was FRACTALS! I simply changed the word 'crooked' to 'fractal.' 

To view more fractals and listen to some ambient music, click HERE.

Fractals found in Nature: 

Clouds after a summer rain

Fractal Force

I am a fractal line.

My course

aligns with the Spirit.

A conforming

non-conformist,

I weave between

giving and receiving
forthright

with humble regard for

pure

infinite

ubiquitous

Love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, click the link HERE. 

Strength Within

Since transformation is part of my blog's title, I composed this villanelle, containing the poetic framework creating a linguistic form of life's ebb and flow. This poem's theme is that a loving, driving, force that emanates from the Divine, can bring a transforming strength, and I hope you enjoy it. 

Photo is of East Lake, Danbury, CT

Strength Within

Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim,

for gently comes the mission that will bring

the strength within that only you can name.

Your passion resonates hope; now proclaim

the song that desires your voice, and boldly sing.

Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim!

Intricacy builds clarity as the frame 

of delicately interlaced might, healing

the strength within that only you can name.

 

Travail with challenge evolves, as the game

of motivating resolve becomes your freeing.

Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim.

Benevolence and wonder: Adventure’s name

and yours when life moves on by loving

the strength within that only you can name.

Acknowledge from your heart that you can't tame

the Sacred Grace from unleashing torment’s cling.

Draw from Love that brings your verve its aim,

the strength within that only you can name.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this villanelle, please click HERE. 

Cognitive Revolutions: Creative Revelations, all in God's Time

A Beautiful Sunset in Danbury, CT

Luke's Gospel Reading with the story of Jesus, meeting His disciples on the Road to Emmaus, (Luke 24:13-35) made me think...

We learn to recognize aspects of our lives that create impressions, unaware of the cognitive variations that our minds and bodies interpret and reinterpret. Yet, we continue to move gracefully through our personal universes. How often have we affected others? How often have others affected us?

Revolution of thought is inclusive of awareness within the mind and body with inter/intra-connections. Very simply, as we perceive and cognitively organize our environment, we slowly create the opus that is only ours to share. To consider this concept in a positive way, that opus can move humanity to a higher level of consciousness.

Just think! If individuals elevated their thinking to those matters that pertain to the goodness and creative genius that dwells within, how generous we could be with each other! How marvelous this Earthly experience could be!

As we concentrate intently on our thoughts and their influences, we affect our reality, and thus, we open the possibilities of individual, creative, and loving connections... all in God's Time.

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.)

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, as this poem states, we have the power within to "release the blissful flow."

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

Winged Inspiration

I took the above photos of a bee, butterfly, and hummingbird in my garden.

Winged Inspiration

Today,

a bee flies wistfully,

nectar gathering for the hive,

Today,

a butterfly shares the space

of time and floral beauty,

collecting heavenly nourishment.

Today,

the lavender grows more alluring

in service

to its insect guests.

Today, 

the hummingbird sips  

sweet nectar from the loving, giving 

Rose of Sharon blossom. 

And as my eyes are permitted to view

this treasured scene

of serenity and industry,

I am compelled

to make a difference

for Tomorrow.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click 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