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

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 

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.

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.

Epiphany!

Life’s intermittent Light

 shines 

through our souls, 

revealing the softness within, 

knowing that this heavenly force 

originates from 

the intensity of hardship 

learned by living 

in the profusion of opportunity 

that surrounds us, 

revealing Truth

in God's Time. 

~ from my operetta, Luminescence

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Happy New Year, 2026... An Exercise in Illumination!

 

Whether you'll be bringing in the New Year with a crowd or by the tender glow of a single lamp near a cozy fireplace, (new moon tonight, so moonlight is out of the picture), may your illumination lead you to peace, love and joy!

The new year begins as any other day with the exception of a different numeral representing the earth's orbit around the star we call sun. Often, we use this time to mark an opportunity to make changes; however, change can occur more readily if one is clearly aware of that which may or may not need alteration. With this in mind, below are three New Year's creative challenge options:

OPTION I:

1. Get a piece or two of paper and a pencil. Yes, I said paper and pencil. Okay, you may use a pen if that's all you have.
2. Find a quiet place and plant yourself. (It could be indoors or outdoors.) Get comfortable.
3. Close your eyes; breathe slowly in; exhale very slowly out. Repeat this a few times until your mind is calm, open, and receptive.
4. Be aware of every sensory response that you experience for 10 minutes and write them down in the form of a sensuous poem.

OR

OPTION II:
Ask yourself what it is that you will do this year to advance humanity (or simply yourself) toward a higher level of consciousness. Then write a poem about it.

OR

OPTION III:
Write your own version of 'Auld Lang Syne.' 

A couple 'illuminations' of mine:

New Year Haiku

Nuance awareness

Axis of vision’s splendor

Creative vigor 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Aulde Lang Syne Revisited

The moment passes

into a new year.

In heart and mind

serenity is clear.

In this sweet moment

reigns our chance to thrive

to bring love, peace and joy

fully alive!

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

You can hear me recite the above verses by clicking HERE.