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. 

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

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.

Upon listening to "Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis" by Ralph Vaughn-Williams

 

I took this photo of the moon in a cloudy sky, framed by the shadows of maple trees. 

The clouds seemed to form a landscape of their own. 

Click HERE to listen to the lovely, musical piece, "Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis," performed in the Gloucester Cathedral, where Ralph Vaughn-Williams first performed it in 1910. 

I wrote the verse below upon listening to the above piece,

 composed by Ralph Vaughan-Williams.

Fantasia

Yearning for serenity,

an unsettled mind

drifts gracefully, 

flowing in paralysis,

a paradox offering

of a spiritual triad:

sweet malady

sweeter melody

sweetest memory.

A core surge 

caresses

in Divine rhythm.

Echoes...

from arched bones,

guarding this heart

in solemn surrender 

to stillness,

fill the repose  

with sweet assurance.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

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

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: 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

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) and Self-Actualization

General concepts from my book: 

Sydney Owenson acknowledges the spiritual connection between humanity, nature, and God's law, a common theme occurring in Goethe’s works. In one of his conversations with Johann Peter Eckermann, he explains:

Freedom consists not in refusing to recognize anything above us, but in respecting something which is above us; for, by respecting it, we raise ourselves to it, and, by our very acknowledgment, prove that we bear within ourselves what is higher, and are worthy to be on a level with it. [1]

In response to Geothe then, Owenson incorporates the Romantic concept of God’s influence on humanity’s intellectual actions in conjunction with natural law while she introduces the reality of political and societal constraints through her characters' struggles with self-awareness. Through this conflict, Owenson personifies the dichotomous nature of glory in which her birth nation, Ireland, struggles with true autonomy and its native glór* to be heard.

*Glór is 'voice' in Irish Gaeilge.

____________________________________________________

[1] Johann Goethe, quoted in Conversations of Goethe with Johann Peter Eckermann, translated by John Oxennford, edited by J.K. Moorhead (New York: Da Capo Press, 1998), p. 157.

Wintry Beauty: "Do...do...do...Lookin' out my back door..." (Creedence Clearwater Revival)

photo by Jeanne

As Mark Twain once remarked, " In Connecticut, if you don't like the weather today, wait until tomorrow." Well, as forecasted, we received our little bit of January snow. Today... So beautiful with the sun making its sporadic appearance throughout the day. 

A Quote by William Blake and Some Thoughts

I took this photo as I was leaving Galway Beach, Ireland.

“To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower 

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.” 

~ William Blake from "Augeries of Innocence"

Sharing Views

Whenever I traveled the Irish west coast,

listening to the waves lap up on shore,

my mind would wonder: 

"Just across that ocean 

is the east coast of the United States.

Who do I know might be sharing this view?" 

Then, along the beach at Cape Cod, 

I searched the ocean's horizon 

and wondered: "Who is looking across this sea

and possibly looking right at me?"

The blue-gray waters ebb and flow

releasing endless ruminations.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me read this, please click HERE. 

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

I've been up late at night recently, researching and writing my third book. Below is something to ponder: 

Photo taken from my deck one night

Upon Reading Philosophy Late at Night

He galvanizes her

with cerebral massage.

Inhaling - exhaling,

his ancient, whispering breath

intellectually touches,

gently caresses, 

stirs.

Opening her mind

with dynamic contemplation,

she welcomes 

his perspective.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Icicles

 Icicles 

In my childhood, 

I sang a song that went like this: 

🎶 Icy-icy-icicles... 🎶

Now, icicles suspended 

from tree limbs and eaves

make me believe 

that my life is like these 

frozen suspensions, 

for I am a collection of 

life experiences, 

some transient, some suspended, 

some spun from the realms of time

where memories live in my heart, 

converging with the present,

holding onto the belief 

that they have aligned 

with the Truth 

 of Divinity: 

Love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Winter's Breath

 Winter's Breath

It comes on the wind,
fresh, cold.
 Snowflakes whisk 

through the air,
kiss my cheeks,
and instantly melt 
with the warmth, 
flowing from my heart.
I feel their arrival 

around me, surrounding me. 
My hair begins to curl 
with the moist, cold air.

With each click of icicles

falling from trees' branches, 
Winter's Breath assures me 

that there will be a Spring

and with it, the peace 

of the sun's sweet smile
in God's Time. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite the above verse, 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

"Touching His Hem..."

Photo from DuckDuckGo images

"...They... besought Him that they might only touch the hem of His garment: 
and as many as touched were made perfectly whole." (Matthew 14:35-36) kjv

Touching His Hem

Broken, 

she sought the Truth

of whom she was supposed to be. 

She did not have the knowledge, 

so she searched for inspiration 

and found it not, 

for she was lost and afraid. 

Until... 

she touched the hem of His garment. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me read this verse, please click HERE.

My Hands, a poem

 "And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." (Psalm 90:17)

Below is a poem with the theme of my use of hands, 

which some may think is archaic in this current era of technology:

Harp and me, one afternoon

My Hands

Turning 

weathered pages of a centuries old book,

my fingers touch a piece of history,

for this page was once turned by the fingertips

of a lady sitting by candlelight on a blue velvet chair,

her linen dress, flowing around covered ankles.

Strumming 

the strings of a vibrating harp, melodic echoes, soothe

the mind of my precious dog who lives to protect me

love me, comfort me. It's the least I can do for her.

Kneading 

dough that clings to each finger until I apply 

one more dash of flour to create 

the soft ball that will miraculously rise

to form into the sweet, aromatic sustenance of life: 

bread, feeding others with joy.

Threading 

a needle with just the right length and color 

of waxed cotton,

slowly I turn remnant pieces of cloth

into a quilted memory to comfort 

through the warmth of artistry and pragmatism.

Digging 

into rich, brown soil, I plant a seed

water, nurture, protect until one day it grows

into a savory food, the source of a satisfied smile.

Holding 

an extended hand, I feel the presence

of tender strength, our fingertips, touching,

Loving 

 brushing the tear from a dear one's eye

fond memory of the gentleness.
Praying
palm against palm, I sing a song of praise.
Humbly, I give thanks to Him,
Knowing 

His Love is undying, strengthening, 

guiding each step to fulfillment of 

His Purpose for me:

Living 

from heart to hand.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

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

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

Insouciance

Insouciance 

Feeling soucieux,
for the Bus has left without me,
I delve into the furthermost
reaches of a leather universe,
searching for a tissue to dry my tears,
lacking in certain finesse.

Soon, I touch something
soft, limp, fuzzy with appendages!
Ew, what has crawled into my purse?
Gingerly, I lift out the soft, limp,
fuzzy object by one of its appendages.

It stares at me with beady eyes
still, silent, smiling at me
insouciant as ever, James Joyce.
I rejoice... a friend!

What bus? 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

* insouciant or insouciance: nonchalant, unconcerned

* soucieux: worried, concerned 

Common Thread, Shared Bread

Photo from DuckDuckGo Images

Common Thread, Shared Bread

Friendship bound by a common thread

nourished with inspirational Bread

of kindness, humor, and stories we share.
How lovely! Someone actually does care! 
These are the blessings we unfold
honoring love as our version of gold,
refraining from giving annoyance reign
for a wintry soul has warmth to gain.
 Lifting hearts with a benevolent thread,
we stitch the tattered as we share the Bread.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE. 

Power of Love

East Lake, Danbury, Connecticut

Power of Love

This Power of Love

electrifies, magnifies, clarifies

the Divinity 

within our living, human souls. 

Always moving us forward

through the darkness, the sadness

the vacuity, 

and into a peaceful sharing

of the Light, the Joy, 

the Promise.

Thus, I am eternally grateful 

for this Power of Love

that echoes through our lives, 

purifying us for the next

as this Love from our hearts,

overflowing,

carries us gently 

into the Peace, the Hope, 

the Blessed Purpose

of our Journey together.

© 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.

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.

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.)

One Midnight, Long Ago

 

I took this photo of the River Shannon in Limerick, Ireland.

One Midnight, Long Ago

Gentle, gossamer wisps of vapor
frame a celestial tableau
amid indigo heavens
illuminated by the faint and distant sparkle
of a beckoning, fiery glow.

The vibrant sky heralds
a world below with hope
that the heat from this angelic miracle
will fuel yearning souls
with the fervor for righteous aim.

In the bitter cold of midnight, 
ardent love and devotion
expressed from a Mother's heart 
to a Newborn's eye
fulfills the prophesy~ a King is born.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this poem, please click HERE.

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.