Ugly Duckling's Pond

Years ago, Peadar's Poetry Jam prompt asked us to reveal an unknown from a fairy tale or myth. I chose one of my favorites, The Ugly Duckling's pond. 

Swans in East Lake, Danbury, Connecticut, U.S.A. 

Ugly Duckling’s Pond

Reeds sway

along the water’s edge,

 gentle waves

from graceful paddling

of a family of swans

lap up

heartbroken tears

as they embrace

the distorted reflections

of a duckling,

furtive and yearning.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos 

To hear me recite this, please click HERE. 

A Humble Creation

Photo from Google Images

A Humble Creation

With every minute
the Mighty Sculpture
molds and shapes me 
into that which will
inevitably 
become the fulfillment 
of my dreams ~
His promise,
and I can feel
the special pliancy
of His wondrous hands
as He blends
the Sorrow and the Pain
into the sculpted reality 

of Love and Joy 
in my life. 
I am a humble creation 
of the Almighty Artist. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

Take Time

Me, plucking the strings of my Celtic harp

Take Time

When the day has flown at rocket speed,

take time.

When the dog is barking in Kitty's face, 

take time.

When daily demands seem to overwhelm,

take time.

Take time to feel each moment's special glory.

Take time to hear the beauty in a sweet bird's voice.

Take time to love each task for its own story, 

and soon, the Infinite Beam

of life's loving Beacon

transforms the ordinary 

into extraordinary, 

creating simplicity

in time. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(You can hear my reading of this poem by clicking HERE.)

Trains! A Phantasmagorical Journey

Grand Central Station, NYC

Photo from Google Images

One week, my poetry group leader asked us to consider taking the train. Well, my trains of thought below switch tracks now and then: from London's Victoria Station Underground to the New York City's Metro North, which transported me from Connecticut via Brewster, NY to Grand Central Station, NY City, a phantasmagorical experience, centered with love. 

Phantasmagoria

My train of thought travels

along rickety tracks

holding onto every second

of life, whirling images

in hues of benevolence,

common sense,  and innocence

trying to make sense of it all,

love

Thrilling, drilling,

milling, willing,

this train has made stops:

friendships, family,

laughter, tears

love

Dedication, rumination,

allocation, tribulation,

abandonment, containment

achievement, bereavement

love.

Once, I rode the train in London.

It stopped suddenly, and we

were told to evacuate.

The bomb did not detonate!

Divine Love

I stepped through a city of bedlam

eyes of fear, fearless, far from home

found my way to the British Library

back to my daughter’s smiling eyes

alive and satisfied, determined:

Loved

Clickety-click, the clock ticks

in synchronicity with New York City.

Passengers wait, date, relate, abate

whirling past the swans, evergreens,

quaint boutiques of Chappaqua:

country love

to Harlem’s door,

racing past graffiti,

colors smearing, words jeering

interlocking letters on a wall

textual shout outs: anxious, proud

confused, fused, words:

city love

Bridge to tunnel, dark, lights blink

so many tracks, interlace under

this train slowly squeals to a stop,

doors open; we walk through the gates

under a Grand Central firmament

to blend in with the multitude

and I am one...

love.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(You can hear my reading of this by clicking HERE.)

On a Cashew Nut

Once, the Poetry Bus poetry group request for us was to write a poem on something on which we would normally not write... literally.

Well, that particular week, we had been having a100+º heat wave here in Connecticut, and my brain had definitely melted.... So, I took my teeny tiny 'PreciseV5' purple pen and wrote the following haiku on a cashew nut. Graffiti for ants! A fun activity! Here is the photo of my creative endeavor:

Cashew Haiku

On this nut I write

I, this nut, write on

cashew deliberation

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this, please click HERE.

Sydney Owenson: Weaving Threads of Culture Together

From my book: 

In Sydney Owenson’s national tales, she weaves together threads of disenfranchisement and enchantment, capturing the essence of the politically inspired Romantic era, in which the grand is intentionally written to be grander, where literary characterizations entwine with political forces within a civil society. 

The English aristocracy and the publishing community accept Owenson as a significant member of their elite societies through her writing and marriage to Sir Charles Morgan. Even though she takes the name, ‘Lady Morgan,’ she remains loyal to her Irish roots as Sydney Owenson. Her loyalty to both identities serves her expressive purposes well, for she carefully coordinates these unique influences into her text by merging the English tale of aristocratic inheritance with Irish ideology. 

Not only did Sydney Owenson bring innovation to Irish literature in the form of national tales written from a woman’s perspective, but also she included illuminating research in each of her works on the historical significance of her characters, their personal and political milieux, and their sociolinguistic backgrounds. She includes a wide range of socioeconomic and ethnic variables within the linguistic components of her characters’ discourse. 

For these reasons, she has been an excellent choice in researching the relevance of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries’ revolutionary period in Europe and America. Her interest in uniting political factions and social classes as a way to open communication for the cause of justice in Ireland during this era is clearly evident in her thematic structures and characterizations. 

Back to School (or) A New Box of Crayons

Many thoughts race through my head at this time of the year. One, in particular, is a memory of that brand new box of crayons (usually only the 24-crayon box) I would look forward to seeing in my clean book bag, so lovely and organized, ready for the new school year. One year, it was the 64-crayon box!  Hmmm... a childhood dilemma, which crayon shall I choose first? 

Back to School 

(or) 

A New Box of Crayons

There is nothing as sweet as the waxy aroma

of a brand new 64-count box of Crayola crayons

bought especially for that first day of school.

It has the crayon sharpener right on the box!

And oh, the most marvelous feeling:

sliding the very first crayon out of its sleeve.

Periwinkle Blue! Carnation Pink! Burnt Siena!

What does it mean, this lovely box of crayons?

Summer is over! Those lazy, creative days sitting

under the maple tree, dreaming of 'next school year'

are etched forever as summer childhood memories.

Those encouraging words from last June come alive. 

New: books, shoes, clothes, hope, friends! 

Old ones, too, but now with new stories to share. 

Early autumn, with its cool breezes, 

whisks colorful leaves that dance among fallen apples: 

Nature's own fresh box of crayons. 

Tossed with a sanguine force that energizes 

each step toward the school's front door,

kind smiles herald enlightenment 

radiating from a Teacher's welcoming heart.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Mathematical Sets

photo from Google Images

Mathematical Sets

It all figures:

balanced equations

sets of added digits

occasionally subtracted

measured by common factors

multiplied by these too

percentages based on 

the configuration 

of a situated one

in relation 

to the core.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

From my operetta, Luminescence, Advice from Anne Bradstreet (Represented as the Passion Flower)

Passion Flower from Google Images

In my operetta, Luminescence, a re-write of the 13th century French narrative poem, Roman de la Rose, the spirit of the poet, Anne Bradstreet, as represented by the passionflower, gives the following advice to Rose. I wrote this with Bradstreet's poetic style in mind:

My name was Anne Bradstreet,

and I have a story of devotion to tell. 

My life was dedicated to the sacrifice 

of one who gave His life, that I might have mine. 

I saw the need for all people, men and women, 

to be mindful of the importance of their individual spirits. 

My passion for the love of my life 

is ever-growing even as I speak from the spirit. 

The seeds one plants in life 

are carried forth to benefit future generations, 

bringing into view the truth of love and devotion 

in a physical manifestation of Divine Ordinance. 

One needs to remember always 

that humility of thought begins 

with the acceptance of the challenge 

within one’s heart. 

Each individual must fulfill that desire 

in order to fulfill the Will of the Almighty. 

Attention to this desire will bring 

happiness and contentment 

as a central focus of one’s life, 

and there will be calm 

in the heart 

of any troubled soul. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Anne Bradstreet

Note: 

Anne Bradstreet was an English-American poet who was born in Northampton, England in 1612 and died in North Andover, Massachusetts in 1672. 

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

Hope

My focus here is an individual, trying to catch a break, the proverbial 'brass ring on the carousel of life', feeling the dizziness and fatigue of the ride (or running in circles...multiple meanings there, too), parched for answers and passionate with hope.

http://k41.pbase.com/g4/78/672378/2/61284496.Carousel.jpg

flickr.com/photos/ 78252871@N00/437700770/

Hope

Tears amid the cheers

reaching for the brass, 

spinning,

thirsting for the flow

only to turn away parched,

tongue swelling in dry air 

hot 

with the fever of hope. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

We will always remember!

Photo from Google Images

Click onto the candle to hear Sarah McLachlan sing "Angel."

Photo from http://michaeljamescasey.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/natl_memorial.jpg

Photo from Washington Post

Photo from Google Images

 The National 9/11 Memorial, New York City, Pentagon 9/11 Memorial, and Flight 93 Memorial

I wrote this poem the afternoon of September 11, 2001 in Danbury, CT, 65 miles north of the devastating scene unfolding in New York City, yet close enough to know that the same clouds passing right above me just passed over that horror. The wispy clouds almost looked like angels floating above and away from the madness below. No planes crossed the sky above, only silence… except for the industry of nature.

September 11, 2001

Bellowing clouds of madness

devour cavernous streets

filled with masses 

seeking freedom

from a spumous potion of death.

Silent plumes in an azure sky,

Blessed by the prayers
of three thousand Angels,
newly formed and gliding overhead,
mollify this tableau of horror.

As evening approaches, 

silent stars fill the night firmament. 

No airplanes fly in this night sky.

Delicate crickets chirp; katydids begin to sing.

Strong airy wings of a soaring bird reveal 

a Love that can never die...

Freedom prevails.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos  2001

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.

In Preparation for Life

Preparation for Life 

In preparation for this wonderful life

I wish to send to you 

a cup of gentle tidings

that will comfort through and through.

Remember your uniqueness,

that God's Blessings are in you,

and use those gifts to be the one

who uplifts humanity true. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Love through Laughter

Love through Laughter

Love:

open-faced

 to the laughter

that unites 

dares with dreams

acceptance of perfection

accompanied by flaws

we amble

through doubts

and fill up on hope 

united

through the discovery

of Love 

through Laughter.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

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

BLISS is my word.

Once, one of my professors asked our class to choose a word from Spenser's The Faerie Queene that particularly intrigued us. I chose the word, bliss. Below is a poem that explains my perspective of this word, for I thankfully pray for blessings received each day.

"Praise the Lord with the harp, make music to Him on the ten-string lyre. 

Sing to Him a new song, play skillfully and shout for joy." (Psalm 33: 2-3) kjv

Bliss

In the Oxford English Dictionary

 resides the little word,

bliss

So many entries for this little word:

bless, blessed and even bleche!

Heavenly gifts 

juxtaposed 

with human expression.

We have the responsibility

to emulate higher levels of demeanor

to elevate awareness,

for each of us has been blessed

with gifts that enhance the living

presence surrounding us

moving humanity forward

in peaceful bliss.

My bliss originates 

in the glorious way 

we speak to one another.

I scrutinize others,

make mental notes 

of their paralanguage:
spiritual linguistics

where the core of truth 

generates the coexistence 

of benevolence and deceit: dissonance!

Sometimes, this confuses me…Bleche!

so I retreat 

to Prayer, the voice within, the Glor*

where music of eternal, natural peace 

and soothing sound waves of passion

form consonant harmonies,

my personal bliss.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos    

*Glor: the Irish Gaeilge word for voice, sound

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.

Heart and Mind Coalescence

Art by Alex Grey, entitled, 

Heart Consciousness

In her 1807 book, Patriotic Sketches of Ireland, Sydney Owenson observes:

Political philosophy is an extension of the mind’s eye to the whole great scale of civil society, and demonstrating the close-linked dependencies of its remotest parts, affords to the benevolence of the human heart, and the comprehension of the human understanding, a social system, gratifying to the feelings of the one, and ennobling to the faculties of the other. (33)

The human heart and 'comprehension of understanding,' are two distinct entities, for the heart, aside from its organic characteristics, contains the very essence of human perceptions. 

In contrast, comprehension of understanding involves the assimilation of intelligence and critical analysis as they interact with the psycho-physiological structure to form a wondrous flow of human affability. 

Harmony

One heart ~

beating strong

beating true

sings

One song ~

through melodies sublime

envelops

Two lives ~

circuitous, refined

coalesce

Two souls ~

ennobled

by the One.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Inception of a Storm

 

 Inception of a Storm

A silver disc

floats high

in the azure palette.

When suddenly,

stretching its darkening appendix,

a rolling, feathery mass

covers the spherical gaze, 

and soon,

Blessed droplets

fill the soil

with Rich Nutrients

of the Diviner's Supper. 

Ah! What a Feast!

So loud ~ so silent ~

So swift ~ So enduring

So absolutely essential

to reach the Heavenly gold.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan): 19th Century Revolutionary

Sydney Owenson sheds light on the status of the common man and woman in mid-nineteenth century Ireland and incorporates semiotic structures within her works to communicate with her readers the various discrepancies in legislation, particularly the Act of Union 1801, decades after its enactment. Although inequity in governmental legislation exists internationally, by 1825, the imbalance within the legislative structures is unacceptable to intelligent people associated with the British or the Irish aristocracy along with the increasing numbers of female writers and readers.

For example, in the preface of her essay entitled, Absenteeism, she highlights the need for both the English and the Irish to be mindful of their patriotic responsibilities:

Notwithstanding the intense interest which is felt throughout all England concerning Ireland and Irish affairs, notwithstanding the frequent debates in parliament, and more frequent pamphlets and volumes published on points of Irish politics and economy, the prevailing ignorance on these subjects still operates powerfully in maintaining prejudices the most unfounded and the most fatal, and in retarding those measures of wisdom and of justice without which Ireland can never be happy; or the British Empire secure. [1]

In this statement, Owenson demonstrates commonality between the authority, England, and the respective community of Ireland, as she begins with the phrase, ‘notwithstanding the intense interest which is felt…’ Thus, she engages in the use of negative phraseology linked with passive voice to unite the divergent intentions of England and Ireland.

---

[1] Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan), Absenteeism, (London: Henry Colburn, 1825) pp. ix and x. For future reference within this study, the work will be cited as Abs.

Troubadours of Truth

A small group of my colleagues and I would meet occasionally to let off a little steam. We called it the Meeting of the Minds, but I also like the term used here: Troubadours of Truth. We haven't met in a while now, but I think of these meetings with fondness. Enjoy!

Cheering with Irish Coffees at a local pub

Troubadours of Truth

We meet in various locales

far enough away from the others

who meet for what they think

are much more crucial causes.

At our 'meetings of the minds'

we pun and chortle, sip our drinks

and cheerfully lighten

our burdens of misanthropy

with stories that feed our souls.

Our meetings begin and end

with hugs and reassurance

that common sense is a reality,

if surveyed through the pane

of the Troubadours of Truth.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Guided Steps

This photo reveals the gorgeous mountains of Cullowhee, North Carolina

"How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of Him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation..." (Isaiah 52:7) kjv

Guided Steps 

To serve, 

to bring joy,

to surround oneself 

with the Love of Him 

by whom the sacrifice

bestows onto to us a purity 

of spirit, grace, and everlasting peace. 

To walk alone with the One 

who justifies our being

with purpose of Love

through faithful steps,

guided by Divinity. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

Empty Nest

 

Empty Nest

Nest of winter

left over from the hot, summer months,

carefully interlaced grasses

rest peacefully against a raftered wall.

This nest that once was the home, 

center of life for the young feathered ones

whose songs welcomed sleepy ears each morning

and sang 'good night' echoes to begin each evening. 

Now, the silence reigns,

bringing with it the howling, northern winds, 

as the strength of woven grasses awaits

another answered prayer for the warmth and hope 

of Spring.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos