Artistry of a Poet's Hand

An artist is a poet is an artist...Incorporation of art and poetry creates illumination of the human experience.

 

Above left: my own feathered pen and ink bottle

right: an illuminated manuscript of the 13th century narrative poem, Roman de la Rose

Artistry of a Poet's Hand

A fine gold nib gently fits

into a feathered pen.

The well of silver and crystal accepts colorful ink,

carefully poured by the hand of a poet.

This artisan of words dips the golden nib  

into the well, slides it along the neck,

allowing excess fluid to gracefully drip

off its gilded edge.

The poet reflects on placement of each word,

and touching nib to parchment,

propels the filled pen to stroke left, then right,

forming each letter with deliberate flourish.

Ornate illuminations of richly hued imagery

in crimson, amethyst, and beryl green,

penned along the borders of the page,

elegantly coalesce genius with beauty:

the Word, inscribed.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Just Before Dawn (The Blue)

Just Before Dawn (The Blue)
Eyes open slowly.
Still, I walk along that lovely beach
and glance up to see a small village.

That same, intriguing dream,
now, it fades away
with the early morning mist.
 I feel a gentle, cool breeze
waft across my face
and turn my head
toward the choir of crickets,
still calling to their mates.

An owl wings its way
midst entangled branches,
eerily hooting through the blue.
My gaze reaches the maple tree
standing tall in this tableau
all blue, shades of blue, no other color
but blue... everywhere!

Leaves, tree trunks, even the lone deer,

all blue.

It's no longer evening, not yet dawn.
Sky and sea are one magic hue.
The song of one bird greets me:
a prayer for the new day
in this tranquil moment of
blue.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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.

North Carolina Mountains

Mountains of Cullowhee, North Carolina  (photo from DuckDuckGo images)

 

North Carolina Mountains

 

The North Carolina Mountains, 

so beautiful, so sublime...

in my heart they’ve nestled in,

clinging to my eternal soul,

erasing the concept of time. 

 

Memories that I have there

are gentle, filled with love,

and in my quiet moments, 

I envision Angels recalling 

with peaceful smiles from above.

 

One day, when I return, 

 those hills of green will welcome me

 with gurgling brooks and lakes so clean,

and blissfully, I will sing along, 

coalescing with their sweet harmony.

 

© Jeanne Iris Lakatos

Harvest Moon

Harvest Moon

After the heat of summer,

the sweltering, suffocating heat, 

a welcoming breeze wafts over her skin

as she inhales the cool, crisp breath of autumn. 

  And there is the moon, 

  the Harvest moon, 

the Super moon

 in all its glory. 

Her eyes behold 

the luminescence

reflected from the sun

as she wistfully wonders,

"Is anyone else gazing at this brilliant sight 

with hopeful eyes and heartfelt smile?" 

Soothing wishes warm the night 

a comforting, timeless Salve. 

  

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Imre Madach's "The Tragedy of Man," Revolution and Knowledge

Photo: Illustration from website: http://www.wga.hu/html/z/zichy/index.html 

In The Tragedy of Man (1860), Hungarian playwright, Imre Madach, reveals the inherent spirit within humanity to resolve differences through knowledge. This play, consisting of fifteen scenes, depicts the first couple, Adam and Eve, in paradise whereby Eve questions the validity of the Lord’s request to deprive the couple of all knowledge. In her exchange with Lucifer in Scene II, she philosophizes:

Why should he punish? For if he hath fixed

The way that he would have us follow, so

He hath ordained it, that no sinful lure

Should draw us otherwhere; why hath he set

The path athwart a giddy yawning gulf

To doom us to destruction? If, likewise,

Sin hath a place in the eternal plan,

As storm amid the days of sunlit warmth,

Who would the angry storm more guilty deem

Than the life-giving brightness of the sun? (Scene II)

After leaving the garden of Eden for tasting of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, Adam and Eve fall asleep in their new home and experience a number of historical events to become aware of the many ways humanity has grown into self knowledge, beginning in Egypt, where the couple learns of personal glory. Adam then longs to learn of humanity’s struggle for the good of nation, through experiences in ancient Athens, Greece. They discover hedonism in ancient Rome, Christianity in the form of knighthood of the middle ages, where he also discovers medieval fanaticism. This leads to his search for sense in the sphere of Johannes Kepler. However, in the world of Emperor Rudolph, Adam moves on to the French Revolution, where he encounters the deceit of Danton and the ultimate failure in humankind’s ability to execute a lasting revolution. He becomes disenchanted with humanity at the London Fair. In the final scene, Eve tells Adam of the upcoming birth of their second child. She foreshadows:

If God so will, a second shall be born

In sorrow, who shall wash them both away

And bring upon this wide world, brotherhood.

Well, we all know what happened with that relationship, so Imre Madach, who places the burden of man’s struggle at the hands of the woman, also illustrates that humanity has within its grasp the ability to seize control over its destiny as the heavenly choir of angels sings:

…Yet in the glory of thy road,

Let not the thought thee blind

That what thou dost in praise of God

Is wrought of human mind.

Think not the Lord hath need of thee

His purpose to fulfill,

And thou receivest from Him grace,

If thou mayest work His will.

The Lord responds: O Man, strive on, strive on, have faith; and trust! (Scene XV)

Therefore, Imre Madach reveals, through the artistry of his writing, his intense belief that within its own consciousness, humanity has the ability to advance harmonic relevance from dissonant experience, for he presents Eve as the mother of humanity with the conviction that her children will move humanity forward in their quest for true knowledge. (Lakatos 2007)

Odes to Pancakes

Photo from 'Duck Duck Go' images

Below is a duet of poetry focusing on the pancake theme in the rondeau form and then a parody of e.e. cummings' poem, "O Sweet Spontaneous."

Ode to Pancake Temptation

There, on my fine bone china plate

Five pancakes can't be a mistake

and neighboring maple trees in a row

provide home grown syrup to amply flow,

as fresh, sweet butter on top does skate.

To eat this meal at such a rate

won’t help in my quest of losing weight

yet hunger’s there; it won’t let go

there, on my fine bone.

This morning sure has sealed my fate

through personal, philosophical debate

but now, determined to my pinky toe,

it's wisdom’s garden I must hoe,

and make these feet accelerate 

there, on my fine bone.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

O Sweet Pancake Temptation

(a parody of e.e. cummings' "O Sweet Spontaneous")

O golden pancakes

drip

               ping

with sweet syrup

extracted

from maple’s vein

and butter 

squeezed

from bovine's 

p

u

r

i

t

y.

Does humanity

know the 

sacrifice

from earth’s offerings

for gluttony’s

bliss?

My delight 

pours forth

dripping

                       sweet 

with

appreciation 

and a little

blueberry pancake guilt.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE. 

A Flash Fiction Tale of 'Stella, the Ceili-Dancing Squash (Stink) Bug'

bsciencecenter.wordpress.com/.../

For one Monday Poetry Bus, a few years ago, TFE had requested that we board the streetcar named desire and finish a poem that he had begun a while ago, which happens to mention the name Stella (the beer and Paul McCartney's daughter's clothing line.) 

Well, I had an incident with a precocious bug in the Tutoring Resource Center which I coordinated at the local university. After learning that there was an infestation of these 'squash bugs' (or 'stink bugs') in another building where I had just visited, it dawned on me that perhaps, this little critter had hitched a ride in my hair because it wanted to hang out in the TRC. All this inspired a little flash fiction tale with the main character, unbelievably....Stella! So here 'tis: 

Stella, the Ceili-Dancing Squash ('Stink') Bug

by Jeanne Iris Lakatos

A March sun warmed the oak tree, standing at the entrance of the Old Main Building. Melting snow formed puddles in which blue birds and sparrows graciously bathed.

"Oh my," yawned Stella the squash bug. "It's already March! St. Padhraig's Day will soon be here, and I must stretch me dancing legs. What's that I hear? A lovely professor humming a ceili dance?! Why, I'll just leap into those long brunette locks and see where she takes me."

Stella waited until Jeanne passed right under her branch, took a deep breath and JUMPED!

"Ah! There we go!" she smiled.

Jeanne never saw the squash bug, clinging to the top of her head. She moved quickly across the campus, still humming the merry tune while Stella bounced to the rhythm of Jeanne’s Stella McCartney heels clicking along the brick sidewalk.

The professor opened the entrance door to Berkshire Hall and stepped down the hall to the Tutoring Resource Center where she headed straight to her CD player to raise the volume of her Celtic music album. Ah, Stella loved that melody and decided to move a bit closer, so she leaped off Jeanne’s hair, and oh no! She fell right into the blinds against the window...flat on her back!

"Please, PLEASE help me, Professor!" she cried, flailing her dancing legs. "See? I'm doing a ceili dance! The Connemara!"

Jeanne heard the THUNK of Stella’s fall, and peeked behind the blinds to see the squash bug’s wiggling legs. 

"Ahhhh!" screamed Jeanne, "A huge bug just fell from somewhere into the window!" Eeeeewwwww! Someone, please…. Help me get rid of this thing!"

“Thing?!” I’m of a proud line of perfectly fine squash bugs, I’ll have you know,” retorted the indignant Stella.

A brave Biology student calmly held out her hand to the bug. Stella elegantly crawled into her fingers.

"Go raibh maith agat!" she smiled to the student.

The girl gently placed her on a twig outside the door. Stella sighed, "I'll just wait here on this maple tree branch until the Professor returns. I'll jump onto her hair again, and when she brings me back into that joyful room, I'll show her a few ceili steps."

Jeanne thanked the student, thought to herself, “I could use a Stella right about now! Too bad they don’t allow beer on campus.”

Instead, she searched through her Stella McCartney catalog and made plans to buy a new hat.

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

Extra Credit Haiku: 

I, dressed in Stella,

he, with Stella beer, 

chatting through a stellar night.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Chestnuts

 Chestnuts Gathered on a Country Road

 

Chestnuts

Today, I walked along an old country road in Connecticut,

the same road where Sybil Ludington once road her horse

to warn farmers of the British burning the city of Danbury, 

a chestnut of a tale that is, but local families report it as truth.

An azure blue sky with wisps of clouds and a lovely breeze  

wafted through my slightly wavy hair as yellowing leaves 

waved back at me, as if they were smiling a friendly ‘hello.’ 

Some of the leaves having met their time of tumbling, danced

on the breeze, oh yes, more Prayers Answered! Thank you, God!

Then, my eyes caught a view of fallen chestnuts, a nice collection!

The winds and rains from the day before must’ve nudged them 

out of their spiny husks, for there they lay, just waiting for me

to admire their shiny, reddish-brown shells, gather them up, 

celebrate another season with roasting chestnuts on an open fire. 

Some refer to old, favorite songs or hymns as ‘chestnuts,’ 

and isn’t it grand to begin a new season of autumn this way ~

with newly fallen chestnuts, singing old, favorite chestnuts, 

remembering old chestnut tales of courage and devoted love? 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos