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. 

All Saints Day: Jeanne d'Arc

For All Saint's Day (Nov. 1), 

I've chosen to write of my patron saint, Jeanne d'Arc, 

whose spirit I've admired for her strength and perseverance. 

Jeanne d'Arc in Battle by Hermann Stilke (1803-1860)

Jeanne d'Arc's Death at the Stake  by Hermann Stilke (1803–1860)    

Jeanne d’Arc

Stalwart, spiritual,

she engages

an army

of anxious souls.

Her fate: rejection

inflamed 
by the ignorant

transporting her

to glorious praise

from Love’s Source.

Courage endures

through

fervent benevolence 

and truest devotion to God. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

To view a website devoted to Jeanne d’Arc:

 https://www.jeanne-darc.info/

Sweet Dreams (Codladh sámh)

Sweet Dreams (Codladh sámh)

Softly the trees sway
breezes steadily pulsating
plummeting my senses 
DEEP DEEp DEep Deep deep
into a serene, sensory 
serenade of sleep
slowly sifting
through sands of 
discernment
into a sea of dreams
where fantasy releases
the genesis 
of truth

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(My reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic. Just click HERE.)

The Mill

Long ago, a friend told me about this beautiful mill, located in Floyd County, Virginia. I found a picture of it in a history book and saw the serene beauty of this sight, so I took out my oil paints and painted my own version of the mill: Mabry Mill is its name. Below are two photos. One is a photo from Google Images. The other is my painting of the lovely Mabry Mill in Floyd County, Virginia. The poem revolves around this stalwart mill.

The 'melodious Lark' in the poem refers to Ralph Vaughn Williams' masterpiece, The Lark Ascending. You can hear the lovely melody if you click HERE. 

Photo of Mabry Mill, Virginia

 from Google Images

 

My painting of Mabry Mill, Virginia

                                             

The Mill

Quietly and peaceful

 the Mill does stand

in harmony with God's land,

and in its tranquil solitude

the melodious Lark 

sings its sweet etude. 

All the while, 

the Mill in steady repose sings: 

"I'll be here

as long as the wind does carry

His song through the realms of time. 

I'll be here for you ~ 

My love will ne'er weary

for your spirit 

inspires

my Joy. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Aurora Borealis

When the local meteorologist suggested that we, in Connecticut, would be able to see the geomagnetic event, an Aurora Borealis, I thought, "Okay, I'll check it out." Well, I looked out my backdoor window, which faces northward, and there it was: a beautiful, pinkish maroon sky amidst the stars. My camera barely captured the view. This was exactly as I saw the sky in Connecticut:

Aurora in Western Connecticut, Oct. 10, 2024

Auroras in Pleasant Valley, New York, Oct. 10, 2024

Aurora Borealis

I search the evening sky to see

the stars staring back at me 

at their usual positions

in the heavenly firmament.

Then, my eyes, are they deceiving me? 

There it is... softest glow of pink and maroon,

enveloping a fluffy mass of light clouds.

It makes me wonder if another's eyes 

are viewing this heavenly sight,

a shared brilliance from stars and aurora.

I thank God for allowing me 

the glorious view of the rosy hue, 

this geomagnetic event:

Aurora Borealis. 

 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

 

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 Gathering of Souls

A Gathering of Souls

Friendship bound by a common thread

nourished with Eternal Bread

of kindness, love, and stories shared

revealing truth to one who cared.

These are the Blessings we unfold,

as youthful dreams become 'days of old'

and gatherings are more carefully planned,

honoring love as a theme so grand. 

Refrain from giving confusion reign!

A shivering soul has warmth to gain, 

I pick up my needle with colorful thread

  Repair the tattered.  

Share the Bread. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

An American Civil War Narrative

Below is a narrative poem that I wrote decades ago in which I used the American Civil War as its theme. 

The Battle of Gettysburg occurred between July1-3, 1863.

  A nine-patch quilt, hand-quilted by me

Two Tiny, Nine-Patch Doll Quilts

(An American Civil War Narrative)

A tiny, nine-patch doll quilt

lay upon a tiny bed

made especially for Maggie Mae

the year her family fled

from all those scornful Yankees,

who were running through their town

setting homes and lives afire

causing Southern hopes to drown.

A tiny, nine-patch doll quilt

lay upon a tiny crib

made especially for Eleanor

the summer when her nib

was loosened from her pen in hand

as the Rebels fired loud

and soon her family huddled in fear

with the other Gettysburg crowd.

Two tiny, nine-patch doll quilts

heard two tiny prayers say,

“Dear Lord, please let our battled lands

be placed within Your peaceful stay,

and help our families change their hate

to Blessings filled with love.

Then, all of us will recognize

Your Blessings from above.”

Two tattered, nine-patch doll quilts

lay in honorable view,

for each is cherished dearly

by descendants of the two

who saw their lives so clearly

pass through war’s destructive side,

for one hundred years of prayer brought

a Rebel son his Yankee bride.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

Acts of Love

 

The Great Smoky Mountains, North Carolina 

(photo from DuckDuckGo Images)

This poem stems from a prayer I learned as a young child, the Act of Love: 

'Act of Love' Prayer: O my God, I love thee above all things, with my whole heart and soul, because thou art all good and worthy of all my love. I love my neighbor as myself for the love of thee. I forgive all who have injured me and I ask pardon of all whom I have injured. Through Christ our Lord, Amen.

Acts of Love

Someone over there
might reach out to me,

might need my comfort, 

my trust, my love. 

The Lord will provide 
Blessed moments to enfold 

a Joy fulfilled

 with the one over there. 

First, I will pray,

then gently step forward,  

lifting the heart 

of the one over there. 

I accept all that God provides,

 share what the Son confides
do what the Spirit guides:

righteous Acts of Love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Last Yellow Leaf

A last yellow leaf from one of my trees

The leaves are really being blown by the usual northwest winds around here now. One maple tree in my yard has lost all of its leaves. Even the beautiful Catalpa tree is letting go of its large, heart-shaped leaves. That means it's time to take out that annual aerobic leaf remover: the rake, and I love it! 

Autumnal leaves release themselves from the summer branches and delicately float toward the fertile ground, continuing their labor of renewal and fulfilling their simple task of breathing truth into a complicated world. This poem is one inspired by the last yellow leaf to fall.

Last Yellow Leaf

Clinging to the dormant branch, 

she glows, knowing 

that His Love envelops 

with strength and purpose,

the brilliance beaming through. 
A gust of the north wind

sends this last yellow leaf

on its way to life’s 

glorious fulfillment. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, Click 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  

Arachnid's Aim

 Once, I observed a lovely spider, busily spinning her web, and I proceeded to write the poem below. 

A spider's web suspended from my deck

Arachnid's Aim

One by One by One by One by One by One by One by One,

she extends her reach into the world, 

Glad that she yet retains eight strong, healthy appendages. 

Her sisters' are damaged, maimed, broken, or lost, 

but hers are vibrant, able to take her

to any destination she beholds as sacred. 

Now, she extends her reach into the world.

Carefully, gracefully, she moves along this space,

arranging each extension in its proper place, 

allowing a Hopeful Touch to capture the attention

of one who will see her radiance

and share her iridescence with lasting, hopeful bliss.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear me recite this verse by clicking the link HERE.

Midnight Blaze

For this exercise, I chose two titles from a list and created a brief, yet potent poem. The poem titles below are from the Table of Contents of the Norton Anthology of Poetry, fourth edition. I simply closed my eyes, turned to two different pages, and pointed.

Your Words my friend (Canto 21 from Astrophil and Stella) by Sir Philip Sidney

Frost at Midnight by Samuel Coleridge

Love is a Cosmic Force 

painting by Alex Grey

 Midnight Blaze

Your words, my friend

burn through 

the reverie

until frost at midnight

mystically transforms

our truth

into a unique blaze,

melding two dreams

into one

phenomenal aim.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet

I hand-stitched this quilt of 'maple leaf' blocks.

Autumnal Quilt Sonnet 

The warmth of summer comes to an end
and feathered songs move onward.
A gentle breeze causes branches to bend
as the north wind beckons to be honored.

Pieces of cloth arranged with care
come alive in a forgotten room.
They're skillfully pieced with knowing flair
as the mum just waiting to bloom.

The autumnal chill in the air feels grand.
The windows, now closed, reveal hues of gold.
Steaming soup's on the stove, and with needle in hand
a quilter works on her pattern of old.

Now is the time to fill one's heart right
with warmth that will gratify a cold winter's night.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can listen to my reading of this poem by clicking HERE.

Thomas Paine and Revolutionary Consciousness: A Lesson for Twenty-First Century Readers

Thomas Paine, Rights of Man (photos from Google images)

Thomas Paine differentiates between natural and civil rights of man, with the latter originating from the former. He interprets the aristocracy’s use of language as a means of establishing a sense of power. Relating the consciousness of the eighteenth-century mindset, Paine elucidates for his readers an emerging global consciousness in Rights of Man:

The progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the accomplishment of great changes, is too mechanical to measure the force of the mind, and the rapidity of reflection, by which revolutions are generated:  All the old governments have received a shock from those that already appear, and which were once more improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general revolution in Europe would be now…. what we now see in the world, from the Revolutions of America and France, are a renovation of the natural order of things, a system of principles as universal as truth and existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and national prosperity.

These fundamental beliefs authentically provide Paine's readership with contrasting attributes of the narrow vision present in governmental hierarchy in contrast with those belonging to humanity in general. A correlation between humanity and nature formed the consciousness of revolutionary thought, which eventually fed into the elaborate (and beautiful) artistic, musical, and literary expressions of Romanticism. 

Our politicians of the twenty-first century could do well to consider Mr. Paine's words. Are we on the brink of realizing free expression, found within the core of human creativity derived from Divine Love or are we on the brink of mass destruction? As with all significant moments, we will know for sure...in God's time.

In God's Time

Photo taken in Danbury, Connecticut

In God's Time

Taking my time, 
moving through a daily routine, 
I've come to that moment 
when I become anxious 
for answers to questions unresolved. 

Then, a thought enters my mind, 

moves through me, and reaches my soul. 

It becomes a prayer, guiding me 

to these feelings of love, peace, and joy

that encompass me. 

No longer am I filled with doubt, 

for purpose supplants ache, and now, 

I feel Divine Love open my heart with His aim 

on a path, carefully tread 

in God's Time.

© 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

One Waft

A waft of air, lifting leaves from a tree in my backyard.

One Waft

One waft of autumnal air: 

tumbles the gold leaf 

and lifts the hawk's wing; 

each with its own resolve.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Be Leaf - Belief

An innovative idea is a call to action to make a difference in this world from a perspective of Love. A single leaf can be an example of a metaphor for the human condition. 

Since transformation originates from a single notion, I thought this little poem may contribute a genesis of belief.  

Oak tree leaves from my garden

 

Be Leaf 

Here

remains the leaf

not insignificant

silent, 

well formed

turned over and over.

Suspended,

it resides in belief

of the sublime reminder:

 the Journey of  Love

emanates, embraces,

 enwraps, ensues... 

in God's time.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

To Flâneur

A group of trees with fallen leaves of various Autumnal hues

To Flâneur

Today, I longed to flâneur

through the fallen leaves, 

wandering, 

wondering 

about the way each leaf sprouted

from the great tree branches

just months ago,

small, green buds, 

excited

to live their lives along

the trees' limbs, 

providing 

shade on a hot summer day, 

food for the ravenous caterpillars,

waving in soft breezes

that brought peace of mind

to this worried soul.

Now, these same leaves

contain the vivid colors of gold, russet and red,

some, newly fallen, 

gently kiss the top of my head,

while others crunch 

beneath my feet. 

That's what it means to flâneur

among fallen leaves, 

embracing 

the glory of Autumn. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Awaiting

Awaiting 

Eagerly, she awaits 

the perfect moment 

when God's Timing 

aligns with the hope 

of many moments, 

many dreams.

Days, months, years 

all carry the same hope, 

and each day brings her closer

to the joy and peace 

that accompany 

a renaissance of spirit

that only His guiding Love 

and Divine Timing 

can bestow 

upon her awaiting heart.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

"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 

To hear me read this, please click HERE.

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