I can see clearly now

It looks simple,
but most things do
When whats in gets turned out,
The colors spill over
Stunning tones washed in brilliant light.

They create confusion and non conformance
One single prism refracts a million colors,
A rainbow of sprinkles
Reflections of life
illuminated by one powerful source of radiance.

Does it help to see the inner world,
and disclose the secrets
locked deep in the recesses of your heart.

We are so much more than what we see
We move with light, and distill in the dark
Our hue changes .

We are glowing with possibilities
A kaleidoscope of colors.

Debbie Hope

Truth Be Told

I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying perception is reality. But whose perception holds the sacred kernel of truth?

I often wonder why getting to the truth is such a difficult process, and not always an ideal shared by all. While pondering the subject of truth one day while on a walk, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The truth is different for everyone. We may not be willing to see the real truth, but we can all admit to embracing levels of the truth. Something akin to I can accept this piece of truth, but not that one and on it goes.

Many years ago I worked with someone who, dare I say, was a bit of a liar. She fabricated an entire story and created elaborate supporting details as to why she couldn’t do something. I was not only stunned by her story, but equally amazed at her boldness in telling this absolute lie. I could not imagine how she could have gone to such incredible lengths to weave this web. Shockingly, it appeared she actually believed her story. I realized at that moment that we all have slightly varying degrees of reality when it comes to truth. And somewhere amongst the wreckage dwells a golden seed of real truthiness.

Maybe it’s fear that keeps us from traveling down the road of truth. accepting the truth can be difficult and painful. In many cases, its simply not an option. There may be far too much at stake. It may require more than we can confront emotionally or uncover other falsehoods in our lives. It may chip away at the veil of strength we’ve worked so hard to to create. The truth is (pardon the humor) we really do believe our own stories. After all, we authored them and worked hard setting up the facts just the way we want them.

Perhaps we can take baby steps and slowly begin to peel back the layers of truth one at a time. In the end, those around us will always believe what they want to believe anyway. We should be able to rest comfortably knowing that our kernel of of golden truth is enough for us.

Debbie Hope
Full of Hope

The Sound of Silence

I listen for you in silence
Wondering what I will hear
Will it change me?
Centering myself for the magical moment
Ears intent, mind poised to receive
Are you there?
Still posturing, should be soon
Clearing the crumbs in my brain
Deep breathing should do it, cleansing breaths they say
Focus, Focus
Did you say something?
I must have missed it
I hear everything, except you
Incessant chatter in my head, a dog barking in the distance
The tick, tick of the clock
Was that you?
Ok,
Perhaps tomorrow.

A Place of Sweet Release

 

Buried in the back of a busy tourist-laden lane,

nestled in a cove just off the marshy grass,

sits a small and simple chapel.

 

Ivy tendrils cover every inch of available space,

color so vivid it could have been painted

using a bowl full of smashed sugar peas.

 

Water laps at both shoulders,

A pungent bite of salt at the left and

crisp fresh water to the right.

A taste of both worlds.

 

Gentle breezes fuel the air,

A constant battle of warmth and cool

Like a single strand of hair that won’t relent.

 

An abandoned boat floats in the distance,

quietly waiting for the return of its owner.

A pelican soaks in a nearby fountain

floating to and fro.

 

A man sauntered off the cobblestone path and,

slowly made his way through the arched doorway.

He removed his cap and attempted to carve out a

comfortable patch on the rock hard bench.

 

He laid down his heavy load,

more like cut it loose; set it free

I heard it hit the floor.

He blew a sigh of relief that sounded

like the whistle of a train; long and loud.

 

He found something there in that quiet place,

worth more to him than buckets full of legal tender.

 

He glimpsed a beam of golden light that

pushed its way through a small crack,

and was captivated and enlightened.

 

He found his Holy Grail,

A place to lay his burdens

to sit peacefully and untangle the deep webs within his soul.

 

It felt as freeing as unbuttoning his pants after an enormous,

sumptuous banquet—a sweet release.

 

He knew,

this too shall pass.

 

Debbie Hope (Full of Hope)

 

 

Fresh Laundry

There you sit
Tired and sick
Worn, torn and rejected
Empty and lifeless.
You had a good run 
But the time has come
To give you a new beginning,
A fresh start
Happy trails to you!

Perfect sentiment for a trip to Goodwill

Whimsical poetry by Debbie Hope
Aka Full of Hope

Made in New Jersey…You talkin’ to me?

I never thought I would be writing about my home state, but here we are. Age, wisdom and the recent acts of a strong breathed woman named Sandy have conspired and swelled my soul until the words are bubbling over. It’s time to set them free, so here it goes.

I am from a small town in NJ called Lake Hopatcong, also known as Jefferson Township, a pure Jersey girl born and bred. I never really knew what that meant until I moved to the South and somehow quietly came to the conclusion, “ah, ok things are very different here, I am very different here.” An outspoken girl from Jersey thrown into a place where there are more Churches than I’ve ever seen. There are so many people blessing my little heart and not always saying what they really mean, I just wasn’t sure how this was going to work out. As it turns out most of the people I ran into are from New York and New Jersey. Say hello to the New South.

Sandy’s devastation has me reflecting on the strength and perseverance of the Jersey people and wondering if this is truth or part of a myth given to us courtesy of Jimmy Hoffa and Tony Soprano. Maybe because of the dense population of our state we have been pummeled by a few “Sandy sized” waves throughout our lifetime. Or, maybe because we live in the shadows of one of the fastest paced cities in the world, we have always had to run a little faster just to keep up and get up quicker when we fall–just sayin’.

We are a unique breed of people that really do use the horns in our cars, a lot. We drink “cawfee” and on occasion may suffer from a slight lack of patience, and we can be slightly quick tempered while cruising our overcrowded highways. The bottom line is we are built from sturdy stock and will rise from these ashes, stronger, if that’s even possible. We do bend, but we will never, ever break.

We say things like, “it is what it is, and not for nothing” and some of us really do say….”you talkin’ ta me” and “forgeta bout it.” We eat hero’s and drink sodas, but we are so much more than the stereotypes portrayed. We are incredibly candid and amazingly proud. You can search the world over and will never find people with as much realness of spirit as those found in that little corner of the world. We are fresh, Jersey corn and tomato fresh.

We will continue to band together and draw from our collective strength, we are Jersey strong. And yes, Virginia there is a placed called The Shore, not the beach, and most of us have spent our summers tossing coins into the big wire baskets that sit in the middle of the NJ Turnpike or the Garden State Parkway while en route to Seaside.

Stand strong, help is on the way.

 

 

Debbie Hope aka Full of Hope

Strung Together

 

 

 

A poem for the poet………

A place to run, but never to hide

A place where poetic souls collide

where quiet fears subside

We come bearing gifts

broken bits of souls,

and buckets brimming with buried memories.

Speaking truths from the heart,

while honoring the rhyme

we have done the time

A tableaux of creativity……

Haiku, biku, no ku

Cinqauin

Palindromes

The Epitaph

We are soldiers of the word,

defending  the art

we sit with eyes wide open

and minds set on ……..

Expressing, Transcending, Atoning, Manipulating, Consoling, Carrying, Freeing, Hiding, Sharing, Connecting

And we continue with tear stained cheeks….

Resurrecting, Listening, Transfixing, Expressing, Pontificating, and………ultimately Enjoying.

Years of emotional baggage spills onto the paper

I am knocking,

let me in

we pass our souls around for the taking

me to thee, thee to me

With an unspoken promise, you lift me and I lift you

A lifetime of working with rainbows of crayons,

carefully crafting the perfect poetic picture.

Pieces of me laid out for you

it’s your turn now, what will you do?

Ah, the endless possibilities…..I can only imagine .

Full of Hope

aka Debbie Hope