Letters to the Moon....

When I began my writing career three years ago, I had no idea what the future would bring. My friends A, C, L and S suggested I write, to express what I was thinking and feeling. I shared my first poems with them; they were positive in their comments, and encouraged me to write more. The more I wrote, the more I looked forward to sharing my poems with my friends. They supported me and my writing, and encouraged me to continue. Months after I began writing, my confidence had grown. One day I asked a friend what he thought about my creating a blog of my writing. He encouraged me to create a blog. With much trepidation, I built my first blog, “Words of Hope.” At first, the blog was private-I only let A, C, L and S read what I had written. I was not confident in my skills as a writer.  I did not have the courage to share my writing with anyone else. I then had a discussion with my friend L. He asked when I was going to make the blog public. I told him I did not know; I did not feel

I read the news today, oh boy…. …..no, actually I was watching television. That’s how I heard the news. Today, while watching a morning news program/talk show, I found out that 2013 is the 50 year mark of the music group the Beatles. Their first album, Please Please Me, was released in March of 1963. I was shocked and surprised when I heard this fact. I am in my early 40s. The group was formed and had broken up before  I was born. I wrote a poem about how I first found out about the Beatles: http://letrasalaluna.blogspot.com/2012/12/where-were-you.html I was eight years old when John Lennon died. His death began my search for knowledge on the Beatles. I would later learn their names: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr. I once heard a quote that said the Beatles music in our DNA. If you are a fan of the Beatles music, I would agree with that statement. Their music has such an iconic sound. If you hear the inner chords to “I Saw Her Standing T

Last night, upon gazing out my window, I saw the full moon, the Thunder Moon, light up the nighttime sky with an amber hue. As the sky around it darkened, the moon shone in her true beauty. I immediately reached for my camera. The first few images I took were out of focus, blurry, not at all showing the true brilliance I saw before my eyes. I later got some very nice photos, in sharp focus, with great detail. I then left that window, and went to another. I lifted the camera to my eye. At that moment, I saw a double image of the moon. I took a photo. The double image I had seen showed up in the photograph. I questioned my eyesight and shut my eyes to give them a momentary rest. I opened them again, and still saw a double image of the moon. I suppose the double image can be explained because I was taking the photo through a window, through a pane of glass, not as my eye would naturally see it while looking at the sky outside. But there on my camera was the double image of th

I wander through the moment looking down, watching my feet as I walk. Something within me shifts. I feel guided from above. "Look up you fool! You are missing it! Look up!!!!" I hear a voice say. I do as I am guided. I look up.  There before my eyes, the most wondrous sky I have ever seen. Such a vivid hue of cobalt blue. A sky so blue you could get lost in it. The sky is truly amazing. It looks animated. No, not animated. Painted. It is clear the great artist used the most vibrant blue in their palette. Three dimensional whimsical white clouds dot the skyscape, completing the scene. I would love to sit in the grass, lay in the grass, and look at the sky, watch the sky go by, and lose myself in that glorious sky. Avebury, England 1997 Poem and photo © Esperanza Habla All Rights Reserved

In the last year, race has been a huge topic of interest in the United States. The reason was because a young black man was killed. The killer was 28 years old, the victim was 17.  Trayvon Martin, the victim, had gone to the store to buy some candy and an iced tea for his brother. On his way home from the store, he was murdered.  There has been great interest in this case because Trayvon Martin was black. His killer, George Zimmerman, is Hispanic,  with a white father of Germanic descent, and a mother who is Peruvian.  Here is part of an article that explains what happened in the case.... "Statements given by Zimmerman have indicated that on the night of the shooting Zimmerman was in his vehicle on a personal errand when he noticed Martin walking beyond the gated fence inside the community. Statements read that Zimmerman then called the Sanford Police Department to report Martin's actions a s suspicious, saying "This guy looks like he's up to no good, or he'

A misconception is defined as a mistaken idea or notion. I heard a very interesting question the other day - “What misconceptions do people have about you?” The immediate answer in my head was, “Plenty!” I think there are many misconceptions that surround us all. I thought I would go over a few of the answers I came up with in my mind. The first misconception about me is that I do not speak English. My name as it is seen here is my pen name, not my real name. I chose this name because, in Spanish, it means “Hope Speaks.”  I think hope should speak; it truly has a lot to say. I learned a humorous fact about my pen name the other day; I was told by an online friend that it means “Stupid Car” in their language. Go figure. ;) When people see my name, whether online, in an e-mail, in a social network, on this blog, people tend to think I am of Latin descent, either from Spain or South America, and that I am learning English. In fact, it is the opposite. I am an American citizen,

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Your face? Your body? Your soul? What do you tell yourself about what you see? Quite often I find that our inner voices come from a core of thoughts. The thoughts can protect us, yet can also hurt us. Women especially are very hard on themselves. Negative thoughts attack our self-esteem, self-image, self-worth, sense of power, sense of self. 4% of women around the world consider themselves beautiful. 80% of women know there is something beautiful about them, yet do not see the beauty within themselves. 90% of women would change at least one thing about their physical appearance.  There is no one form or vision of what is beautiful. There are as many ideals of beauty as there are countries in the world. What is idolized in one country is rejected in another. Everyday women think and say things to themselves that we would never dream about saying to anyone else. Why then do women continue to say these things to themselves?

The whole thing was new to me, having a photo shoot. I do not always like to get my photo taken. Often I am very self-conscious about it. But there I was, having a photo shoot. And it was my idea. I remember telling my friends I was having a photo shoot. The friends I told are all performers-actors, models, mimes, clowns. They are used to being in front of the camera; it is part of their livelihood. I remember these friends asking me, “You? What do you need to do a photo shoot for?” It is only natural that they should ask me. It makes sense when you think about it. I’m a poet, a writer, a publisher. An artist. Why would a poet need a photo shoot? “Well, I need a photo for the back of my book, an ‘author shot’ if you will, photos for my website, photos to use for my publishing business, for promotional purposes, etc.” was my answer. I remember feeling so self-conscious when the photo shoot began. It was so foreign to me. “Look this way. Look that way. Turn your he