Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: February 2021

  • Poem: Comrade – 22/02/21

    Poem: Comrade – 22/02/21

    Glowing in the dark, 
    your pallour simply shines, 
    you’re not sickness, 
    you’re bright and mine. 

    The whiteness that doth paint thy reserved cheeks,
    highlighting flushed spots upon eager flesh
    which competes with the calmed presence within you,
    voices call for you to go, to go,
    but you know better, you know best,
    the truth. 

    You won’t leave me,
    no matter how much the world calls and calls 
    for you to depart, 
    you are devoted, 
    purposefully stuck, 
    in the land of Inbetween, 
    your eyes and heart are thus awestruck. 

    I didn’t aim to drag you aside from your path, 
    the strength to do so required Herculean, 
    but here we are, 
    myself overjoyed and anew, 
    and you distracted, wondering how this situation became true.

    In a way, we both gained, 
    yourself, a heart-song to warble, to unwrap, to borrow, 
    performed in time, 
    and myself, a loyal comrade who shall accompany anywhere with an eager smile.  

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

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  • Poem: I Do Not Exist, I Live – 15/02/21

    Poem: I Do Not Exist, I Live – 15/02/21

    Sing to myself, I will this day, 
    there is nothing to perturb me, 
    my worries they have been laid away. 

    I do not exist, I live, 
    broadly speaking I experience, 
    I take, I give, 
    my heart yearns for nothing, 
    I am complete because I’ve accepted the truth of myself,
    I’m growing more comfortable in my skin. 

    Strength comes from knowing who I am, 
    visions come from planning through resilience, 
    I am no longer weakness walking, 
    the insecurities forthcoming, 
    I do not rely on another to complete or fix me, 
    the notion of this unsettles me. 

    Because, being independent mentally, 
    and emotionally, shall we say,
    it is, in itself something wondrous to look upon after
    endless helpless days, 
    I won’t suffer, I won’t be useless with myself, 
    I have courage and ardour, 
    I’ve grown and I don’t need another to leap in 
    to take me as their prize 
    when I’ve worked so hard to develop myself
    for years, not days. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash

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  • Poem: The Wild Card – 11/02/21

    Poem: The Wild Card – 11/02/21

    I am curious:
    how much of this tale 
    do you know for yourselves?

    I am inquisitive: 
    which part of it makes you need to 
    live and breathe, and want to dive and delve?

    I am aware there lies certain conditions of the body and mind, 
    the pages whipping in the gust, 
    their varied intent,
    settling in, seemingly randomised.

    Like her, he needed saving,
    but it’s as though he calmly waited to be found,
    the blow softened from another well-trusted, 
    I’m whipping away their cobwebs, 
    the path ahead is easy enough to find now.

    It’s all set to be trodden upon,
    won’t they reap what has been sown?
    Certain pieces of this puzzle discarded, 
    and others’ presence completely unknown. 

    Now, the wild card,
    rugged character, 
    in the playing deck is quite uncommon, 
    his frequency is not plentiful, 
    and his presence here is never forgotten.
     
    Thus, while searching for his twinkling stars, 
    remember the constellations which have been
    gazed upon
    by millions and millions more, 
    so appreciative from afar,

    this player, in his rarity, 
    his appearance, he is speaking, 
    to me, to us, 
    to you, to them, 
    his relevance akin to a promising
    three card spread,
    a bright destiny which won’t stop calling. 

    I yearn to provide some solace 
    for ambiguity is what I’ve leaned upon, 
    in time, many souls will repair themselves,
    heart, body and mind,
    the wild card smiles upon and with them as one.
     
    There will be much motivation to spring forth
    to allow progress to heal,
    these facts are done and dusted,
    more predictions to be told soon,
    positive forecasts, will they bloom,
    will they yield?

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Debasish Lenka on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Rested Mind – 10/02/21

    Poem: Rested Mind – 10/02/21

    We went through isolation, 
    lockdown for many months, 
    we craved human interaction, 
    now I treasure tranquillity for myself. 

    Being stuck between four walls
    had caused me much distress, 
    now I enjoy the hush of it — 
    instrumental to my peace,
    the meditative nature of my success. 

    It’s not that I don’t treasure
    time spent with family and friends, 
    it’s not that I’m not grateful
    that many restrictions were able to end. 

    However, I’ve learned to accept and appreciate
    time alone, by myself,
    quietness I’d never yearned to find, 
    a busy calendar?
    No, a rested, calmed body, life, and mind in themselves.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Refreshing Confidence – 09/02/21

    Poem: Refreshing Confidence – 09/02/21

    Refreshing is the scent of confidence,
    I see you breathe it in like a cure,
    it repairs and it adjusts you with love,
    the acceptance of yourself,
    with blessings from up above.

    Do not worry about whether
    the points of your life,
    the details,
    will all fit together,

    because within,
    you’ve grown far stronger,
    there is no more space for anyone but you,
    there is no wonder for any other.

    So, quieten down the heady sensations
    of silent vibrations which hurt you again and again,
    the buzzing which dulled your heart and mind
    into something you felt you always needed but
    you never required that certain adjustment.

    I prayed for you each day,
    for the moment of your kingdom come,
    and here it is,
    you’ve matured into such a wonderful being,
    someone important’s will has been done.

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

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  • Poem: The Search – 04/02/21

    Poem: The Search – 04/02/21

    Tree-man gathers and smiles in the plains that are his own, 
    shrubs and bushes alongside also grin and rustle, 
    they watch as he explores his land, 
    attends to the fallen leaves as gently as if each were a sacred sign, 
    they are, in fact, because they’re quietly home grown. 

    Each delicate marking, 
    each unique shade of yellow, brown or green makes his
    heart swoon, 
    his mood heady 
    for he is seeking his queen, 
    a tree-lady whom he can share his life with, 
    not just as his own.

    But there are few tree-people in this land, 
    they’re a rarity as such, 
    in fact, he’s only viewed his family, 
    never had the opportunity to reach forth to another tree-person
    to embrace or touch. 

    He’s been searching so long for that leafy being who will 
    meld with his heart, 
    to accept the language of his artful words, 
    his kindly soul, 
    his hopeful spirit and warming eyes crossed with subtle stars.

    His journey has taken him high and low, 
    and deep within, there’s a part of him which knows
    that there may never be that tree-lady waiting out there for him, 
    but he accepts this as potential truth, 
    doesn’t weep, 
    doesn’t sigh, 
    he is strong enough within himself to know that 
    he can carry on happily,
    and perhaps the dreamed-off meeting is secretly nigh. 

    Meeting someone would just make his life all the more complete. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Image drawn by myself, copyright 2021.

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  • Poem: Changes – 04/02/21

    Poem: Changes – 04/02/21

    I liked the way the pain was numbed, 
    as though an anaesthetist injected me, 
    cruel jab to be kind, 
    no feelings of any style, 
    was it easier to not feel those emotions of old, 
    none to be felt, seen, or held?

    I became empty, 
    days monotonous, nothing to look forward to, 
    that become pain in itself, 
    the knowing that the unknowing promised all the much
    the same, 
    nothing forthcoming, 
    no southerly, northerly direction, 
    east and west hadn’t heard of me either. 

    Memories would be brought back in excruciating and extracted style, 
    reminiscing upon the joys with emotions of sorrow and hurt, 
    devastation and longing, 
    but the truth is, 
    there was nothing to salvage from that path, that view. 

    Once so empty, 
    now feeling so full, 
    my heart swells, 
    it blossoms, 
    my path here was arduous but I made it, 
    a tentative shaky-cornered smile appears, 
    and I’m suddenly feeling so blessed to have made it through
    the storm and the cyclones and the hurricanes, 
    and everything that the gods could have thrown at me, 
    this moment I righteously own.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Virgil Cayasa on Unsplash 

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  • Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Sometimes life won’t be perfect
    no matter how much you will it, 
    you adjust, you alter, 
    you are adamant, 
    yet plans, they falter,
    accept defeat, 
    you must admit this.  

    It does not matter how much we carry 
    wishes within us, 
    there are moments which will simply 
    flit out of the picture,
    the power within, 
    the strength which hardens us 
    can make us shudder, 
    and suddenly there’s that shattering, 
    the shattering of one’s perfect picture. 

    It shouldn’t matter that I can’t sit here and 
    share all the rest, 
    paint a scene for you to observe and for myself to reminisce,
    despite it all, despite my hopes, my dreams, 
    I want to move forward, and become much more
    than that which I yearned for 
    now and evermore,
     
    a glass-stained picture 
    which drips in brights, in hues, 
    in yellows, in blues, 
    and rectifies the scent of unwanted, sympathetic flowers,
    shall we begin anew?

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Taisiia Shestopal on Unsplash

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