Hope is like a balloon
floating upward
rising to Heaven
Hope is like a balloon
that buoys your spirits
the helium within
Hope is like a balloon
look up to see it
your face turned to the Son
Hope is like a balloon
in a vivid hue
simply beautiful
Hope is like a balloon
bringing joy
that bubbles from within
Hope is like a balloon
though not as fleeting
Hope never leaves you
Hope endures
Hope presses on
Hope conquers despair
Hope is a Light
Hope is always there
I am hopeful
we are hoping
for the best
now
and always
Hope
“Hope”, watercolor and paper collage, 12″ x 16″, Created on the morning of September 27, 2011, the day we left home for my husband’s first cancer surgery. On display at the 2011 Time To Rise Conference Art Show, October 13-15, 2011 in Bloomington, Illinois.
http://www.timetoriseconference.com/
Artwork and poem were inspired by the photograph at the top of this poem, taken on May 21, 2011 at a celebration in my hometown of Jacksonville, Illinois. It was a few days later, on May 25, that my husband’s cancer was found.
“Too Young For This”
https://turquoisetangles.com/2011/06/03/too-young-for-this/amp/
© 2011 Janean Baird, Turquoise Tangles
Turquoise Tangles 
Anonymous writes:I remember that day and that pic inspired more than one poem. It inspired…hope.
Hope is like a balloon. Indeed; very beautifully found! It keeps you going…I in no way intend to turn hope into despair; I don't have any reason to do so; all I do is hope. But when I read this poem I had to think about this time, long ago, where I loved a girl, but she didn't love me back. I was young and naive, and let myself be strung along… I was hoping too, but it was a very different kind of hope. I'm sure you understand the difference. There should be a different word for that; because that hope is like a tonne of concrete. And once I knew for sure nothing was going to be resolved – ever – I felt elated, released. I felt as if on your balloon.Shall we invent a new word for the English language?Because the hope you feel, should have its own unique word; and hope is just so fitting! I'm hoping with you now – dangling under the hot-air balloon. It's taking us with it.
Janean, the hope in your poetry swells and floats, like the balloon you describe, out of these pages and far beyond this screen.And as I read again the beauty and power of your poem my eyes focus on the last few verses that say…Hope enduresHope presses onHope conquers despairHope is a LightHope is always thereI am hopefulwe are hopingfor the bestnowand alwaysHopeJanean, Here's a something I want you to have. I posted it a few years ago, and reading your poem I am reminded of what I wrote and now I give my poem and my artwork to you and your family. God bless all of you.Balloons of Hope,the brightest things,trailing each theirprayer-full strings.
Originally posted by lokutus-prime:
Thank you, John. Here is the first of several replies on this post as well. My heart is heavy as today is three weeks since my husband's surgery and he's still in the hospital recovering from post op complications. We hoped he'd be coming home today but this morning there are more x-rays… Oh, how we covet your thoughts and prayers. Thank you for lifting us up in prayer, like the balloon floating heavenward. ~ Janean
Welcome back, Janean. I saw your comments today on my pages and I've replied to you.You and your family remain in my heart and in my thoughts and in my prayers.
Originally posted by anonymous:
Thank you, Anonymous. That it did. A fine one too. I'd love to share the link here…if you can find it for me on your Tumblr site.
Originally posted by jbaird:
Oh Janean, I am very sorry to hear there is a delay in your husband coming home and I sense how very hard this is for you. My thoughts and prayers and hope continue.
Originally posted by lokutus-prime:
Thank you, John. So very, very much. 🙂
Originally posted by lokutus-prime:
Thank you for this beautiful gift, John. Your words and image mean so much to me. Your kind words about my poem as well. Thank you.
Originally posted by bentrein:
Ben,
I've experienced that kind of hope, that is akin to a longing, as well. I love the idea of inventing a new work for the English language! Though perhaps, in this case, it'd be more productive to keep the word we have and add to the definitions for Hope. Here is what Webster's has so far:
1 hope verb ˈhōp
hoped hop·ing
Definition of HOPE
intransitive verb
1: to cherish a desire with anticipation <hopes for a promotion>
2 archaic: trust
transitive verb
1: to desire with expectation of obtainment
2: to expect with confidence : trust
— hop·er noun
— hope against hope: to hope without any basis for expecting fulfillment
A hot air balloon sounds lovely. I have seen them fill and rise from the earth in all their beautiful colors once upon a time, eight years ago. I'm not sure I'll ever ride in one though. Scared of heights and all that. Irony at it's best since I'm A Short One. ~ Janean
definition copied from: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hope
hope surrounding us … hope Revives the life… makes it in better shape i like wha u wrote :up: :up: :up:
Originally posted by theeyeshadow:
Thank you, Roka, for following me home from my visit to your page earlier today. 🙂
Originally posted by lokutus-prime:
You're welcome anytime! The door is always open to friends. 🙂
Originally posted by jbaird:
Thank YOU Janean. I have followed you back here from one of my pages where I have just finished talking to you as you contemplated lighting the fire in the fireplace in your room. I will make ensure I visit your home here regularly. 🙂
welcome my pleasure 😀 :up:
Originally posted by jbaird:
I FOUND THE LINK!
Before you read it, the story behind this poem is a fun one…
My NYC friend posted the graffiti photo of this robot holding a red balloon on Facebook.
Because she'd admired my red balloon picture also posted there.
Then my Virginia friend was inspired to title the photograph, "Hanging On For Dear Life…Are Robots Alive?" And being Trouble, like I am, I suggested her photograph needed a poem to go with it. It was an Illinois, New York, Virginia Collaboration.
http://takingstockofwhatmattersmost.tumblr.com/post/6789164693/hanging-on-for-dear-life-are-robots-alive
~ Janean
Originally posted by jbaird:
In other words, a NYVIC. 😛 Nice poem there too.
Originally posted by bentrein:
Smiling at your new abbreviation, Ben. Will pass your friendly review onto my NYVIC friends too.
:happy:
Originally posted by lokutus-prime:
Good Morning to you too, John. 🙂
Good – dry – morning to you all!
Originally posted by bentrein:
That's GREAT NEWS, Ben! Does that mean you also had school to teach today? 'Tis Tuesday, after all.
Yes, taught Tuesday and Wednesday – it's Wednesday eve here at the moment. However, the government has announced Thursday through Monday public holidays, and the school's closed.Great, I got my long weekend. However, I think it's short sighted. We are downstream from Bangkok, and we'll get the water a week later than them (it flows really slow). SO we come back to school next week for two days and then the area floods… :SThat'll sit VERY well with the parents.
Originally posted by bentrein:
*sigh* There is that saying, "You can please most of the people some of the time. Some of the people most of the time. But none of the people all of the time." Sounds like it applies here where the teachers and students will enjoy a holiday and the parents may have to change their plans to accommodate some unplanned days off of school. In Arizona they had a Rain Day. Once. My sister who lives there now, an Illinois Girl at heart, was incredulous that they called school off for rain. It was nothing like you're dealing with there, just more than the desert town could handle all at once. Around these here parts it's Snow Days that children and teachers pray for when winter sets in. Even though it may mean a few more days of class in May. It's worth it for the fun of Snow Play in the moment.
Serious situations seems to promote your creativity. That´s a devine gift and recuires a lot of guts! Well done!
Originally posted by nopanic:
Thank you for your kind words, Nicolas. I've found some things just must be done and so much of the writing I've been doing has just flowed forth. Once it does, I feel lighter, on the inside, and the weight around my heart is lifted for awhile. Writing and art making has been a balm for my soul/spirit, in the midst of this journey through my husband's cancer fight. I am learning to Just Say It. Without a lot of second guessing and hemming and hawing over whether I should or not. Yes, I am going for it, and that does take guts. After years of burying and hiding and politely smiling and nodding even as a flurry of emotion was tamped down under the surface. I talk about it a bit at my first blog post, written at the end of March 2011, "Olly Olly Oxen Free". ~ Janeanhttp://my.opera.com/jbaird/blog/olly-olly-oxen-free
Powerful moving comments of caring here … perhaps the most meaningful forms of hope are those arising ironically like balloons from the foxholes, wounds and ruins of life … along with resonant sounds of “broken alleluia”s.
Ron, when I emailed you the link to this poem I hadn’t remembered the plethora of accompanying conversational comments. Fun to reread as I scrolled to find your note. Amy Grant sings a song I love, “Better Than A Hallelujah.” The lyrics speak of hurt, broken, lonely places and remind us God is always here/there and how He loves us even more in those times of pain and heartache when we cry out to him, sometimes without words, than when all is well and we are singing His praises with hallelujahs. I smiled at your foxhole reference. I grew up hearing a WWII story from my paternal grandfather about one of the best two compliments he ever received in his whole, long life. (He lived to be 99 and 1/3.) My Grr’s nickname was Tiger during the war and another soldier turned to him and said, “Tiger, when I’m in a foxhole with you I feel safe.” My Grr replied, “You’re crazy! We’re not safe!” Such a brief moment of conversation, exchanged under conditions we cannot imagine, and he carried it with him for the rest of his life. It’s now been two years since his death. I miss him. Thankful his words, stories and poems, survive as well as recordings of the music he loved playing. Thank you for reading my poem and commenting. ~Janean