Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: January 2021

  • Poem: Raging Cafe – 23/01/21

    Poem: Raging Cafe – 23/01/21

    I arrived at the café in a raging mood, 
    everything felt wrong, angered me, made me feel misunderstood.
    Fluctuations in mood today carried on from yesterday,
    I was filled with upsets, overwhelmed with dismay. 

    I sniped, I snarked, I complained, I felt bitter, 
    could nothing go right, this is terrible, will it improve? I wondered.
    I’ve not had days like these in months, 
    everything has been somewhat right, 
    an improvement upon the next, 
    regeneration throughout the night. 

    Yet today I am in a rage, 
    better watch whom I address upon my page, 
    is there publish-worthy material I’d like to save?
    Quite possibly not, 
    I’d rather go into a mental haze 
    where I can zone out and forget every spiky emotion 
    that I can feel, 
    some will say stop complaining, and just deal.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Maria P on Unsplash

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  • Poem: A Discomforting Perusal – 22/01/21

    Poem: A Discomforting Perusal – 22/01/21

    They can make me out to feel unworthy,
    some hold judgments, quiet grievances,
    I can read it within their body language,
    their subtle nuances.

    They know me not from a piece of fruit,
    a bar of soap,
    a bough among many,
    thus why throw upon me offence when I am here
    to spend my precious pennies?

    Personal thoughts easily read,
    tones to be heard and analysed quickly,
    treat us all equally.

    I am not here to waste
    their time nor mine,
    my presence is valid,
    treat me respectfully,
    a smile can come so easily,
    construct it,
    share it freely.

    Perhaps due to untoward vibrations I’ll walk away,
    sale-less, the counter is devoid of chatter, notes and change,
    maybe I would have purchased
    but with the feelings lingering
    I’ll withdraw,
    nothing in hand,
    only ill feelings felt and carried away,
    perhaps throughout the morning they’ll be grasped.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: A Distant Memory – 18/01/21

    Poem: A Distant Memory – 18/01/21

    Dream out loud,
    whispers soft and true,
    eyes paled in comparison,
    a certain IOU.

    Yowling at the outside,
    come within open arms,
    burrowing into the times,
    these times,
    some don’t need to employ any charms.

    You can exist and impart wisdom
    in the surest ways you know how,
    a sparkle, a glimmer,
    wipe away the traces of sinners,
    watch their opportune moments grow.

    It should not be so difficult
    to lay away those relics from the past,
    brighten your mind,
    illuminate,
    I don’t have much more I’d like to ask.

    The heat and the flames
    can engulf you as one and the same,
    if you allow them to breathe into your soul,
    I would sincerely ask the opposite of the process,
    impart it to your name.

    The cessation, the end,
    the oblivion,
    once abomination,
    cataclysmic in its explosion,
    douse the present in calming potion.

    And then you’ll love,
    you’ll live,
    with sweet winding repose,
    capture the freshest linen-sweet scents,
    let them dance within your nose.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash

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  • Poem: Solitude – 18/01/21

    Poem: Solitude – 18/01/21

    Sometimes the solitude in my mind becomes too much.
    It runs circles around and around itself,
    for air, it will soon gasp.
    Because the opening, the gaping of the truest arms
    is something too available,
    for something unasked.

    Little nuances here and there,
    bad habits being acknowledged,
    must be aware,
    for because how can improvement occur
    where we’re idolising change of dust relative to the sun?
    I’ll tell you this: my own constellation could stun.

    Thus, I’ll allow myself to be here,
    proud and quiet,
    in my own right,
    I will never give up this new-found fight,
    where palms around coated with thick, relaxing oils,
    straight from Mother Earth.
    transformation,
    I am sold.


    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Demian Tejeda-Benitez on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Written by myself, there were once great tales to tell,
    now my tongue falls flat and limp,
    it will not, I will not speak.

    Sharing out of turn can be most expensive,
    not financially but morally,
    how do we strip the obligation from our hands,
    cleanse our palms,
    something wise and sent,
    perfection slightly the same and honest?

    I wonder through my conscience,
    my moral set and case,
    please do what is right,
    a voice whispers to my eye,
    or third eye’s hearing even more.

    I will be the sweet princess,
    like an out-of-season Christmas tree still cheering
    the room,
    my scent, will long linger,
    rosemary, rosemary, rosemary.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Stefan Cosma on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Brightness engulfs that wicked room
    where tales were never shared.
    Where fears, anxiety,
    irreverently unfold within the gloom,
    resting concerns upon one’s hands.

    There is a quietness which is perturbed
    by the stately arrival of glaring white
    and unnatural upheaval,
    a certain something,
    a funk, a stink,
    which would bring one to their knees,
    into the darkest of thickets,
    the tangled thorns, the trees, the thistles.

    Do not cry for the moment of lost opportune,
    do not grieve, neither mourn,
    there is no end, only if wished for soon,
    there is nothing worth feeling lost about,
    because the presence, she lingers,
    lingers in a manner that takes words straight
    from awe-struck mouths and fingers.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo from Unsplash.

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  • Poem: Wheel of Stars – 13/01/21

    Poem: Wheel of Stars – 13/01/21

    The Wheel of Stars seems never to slow,
    blossoms bothered, scattered their presence grows,
    the eternity which awaits,
    turns and turns of fate,
    reading the images before my eyes,
    positive or negative fortunes accumulate.

    Midnight sky blotted with stars and shine,
    this road, the path ahead,
    it is all mine,

    I can rejoice at my arrival,
    strength at my return,
    I will lead the weary,
    eyes and hearts will burn.

    Truly, truly,
    will I know this,
    the path of least resistance will be filled
    with goodness,

    I may be hindered, but so too shall I grow,
    like an ivy which dances
    around an exquisite rose.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Imagine – 08/01/21

    Poem: Imagine – 08/01/21

    Imagine a world where there was no rough,
    no deception,
    no lies,
    where words from saints,
    not sinners were more than enough.

    Where the angels dance upon clouds so light
    that I can barely control my immense delight,
    imagine a world where brightness is assured,
    we glow,
    they glow,
    among the great oblivious and unknown.

    Clipped contractions do not exist,
    allow the sunlight to bless with her breath the mist,
    strength in armour,
    strength in the soul,
    gather the heartstrings,
    envelope emotions whole.

    There is nothing more to say,
    but the words will be cast on,
    like little fairies they glide in the wind,
    gentle and sweet,
    reverent and strong.

    Acknowledge this world before you
    open your eyes,
    there’s nothing left to question,
    no fall left to take,
    no demise.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash

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  • Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Glaring, inquiring eyes
    inspecting through shopfront windows,
    what is it you seek?
    The girl in the crimson dress with white seams,
    is it she you are trying to find,
    do you desire her to speak?

    On edge,
    percolated by excess caffeine,
    anxiety rising,
    scenes perhaps more than what they seem,
    to her, everything seems suspicious,
    laden with layers of notions and commotions
    and terribly haunting dreams.

    Pressure is rising,
    shall there be a toast of prior predilections?
    Fight back the sleepiness of the morning,
    troupe around the neighbourhood,
    exercise and voices cheerily ringing?

    Stress, cortisol, tremors,
    won’t they be resolved?
    That feeling of edginess that screams
    so insipidity loud?

    Those pinpointed eyes as they pass within an
    expression of menace,
    the power of intimidation,
    she will acknowledge the look no more,
    to her, the forced inattention will make it less,
    she will not lock eyes with that stranger,
    there is not need for that physical test.


    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All right reserved.

    Photo from Unsplash

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  • Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Ink and colours swirl and fly,
    admirably they meld into the other,
    watch our joy multiply.
    There’s not a moment too soon
    when we can reach into the stars,
    colours, outlines, so fantastical,
    we can hardly believe them ours.

    I know that these hues and shades
    might not be here forever,
    but I appreciate and accept,
    allow them to provide my eyes pleasure
    and favour while I introspect,

    I know not their meanings to you,
    but to me they are plentiful,
    wholesome,
    vivid, true,
    here’s what I’ve planned,
    I know not what with the colours
    you plan to do.

    Be delicate with them,
    I chide but smile,
    wonder not,
    the colours will remain for a long while,
    the moment of truth is when
    decisions are made with great charms,
    wondering, and wandering,
    into fields of open arms.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image by Jeremy Thomas, Unsplash.

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