Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: April 2021

  • Poem: Moving on Out – 30/04/21

    Poem: Moving on Out – 30/04/21

    Image drawn by myself, 2019

    Things may seem unwarranted,
    like the Universe has delivered ‘unfair’,
    and mental aches pain you from knowing
    that from this place,
    you’ll soon have to vacate here.

    But know that while
    you’ve been dealt certain undesirable cards,
    feel the warmth and concern of others,
    you don’t need to trip, 
    nor fall hard. 

    How to escape a circumstance
    you particularly are loathe to leave?
    Much rather remain, would you, 
    I can see, feel this, 
    the worry on your face,
    the heartache worn on your sleeve. 

    Try not to yearn for something 
    which can no longer be,
    perhaps a new beginning
    is awaiting you, 
    maybe soon you will see. 

    All these material possessions
    which once held great import, 
    toss them aside, 
    it’s time to lighten yourself, 
    and stridently move forward. 

    And remember when you’re feeling sad,
    or particularly low, 
    I’ll always be here to listen, 
    provide kind words, support, 
    this you must already understand
    and know. 

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

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home

  • Poem: Beautiful Soul – 29/04/21

    Poem: Beautiful Soul – 29/04/21

    Sustaining the high energy 
    of the beautiful vitality within thy soul, 
    watch as it trickles through the gaps visible 
    in the aura that surrounds you whole. 

    You are wonderful just the way you are, 
    the courteous, gentle being who sings slightly off-key,
    it is permissible to be less than perfect, 
    because this is what I have to say freely:

    Imperfection is beauty, as a wise woman once had said, 
    your perfection lies in the moments when your heart is beating –
    that’s always… 

    You easily keep promises to yourself, 
    honouring what you call for, 
    what you beg for with a smile,
    more, and more, and more… 

    The grimaces are gone, 
    they are done for, done for, 
    that’s what I have to say, 
    and treasured is everything, partially, 
    of what I know,
    expressions of true friendship, always.

    It seems that specific people will always be there
    for me, 
    it appears that they aren’t the ones 
    who we expected them to be, 
    but I treasure the new alliances made, 
    I am safe to be safe, as are you.
     
    It is safe for us to live in these bodies, 
    it is acceptable and right to express ourselves,
    we should appreciate our splendid uniqueness, 
    and when the flight of our souls occurs, 
    we shall grasp our lives again whole.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: An Eventful Evening – 27/04/21

    Poem: An Eventful Evening – 27/04/21

    A rambling here and there, 
    a touch, a smile, humour is in the air, 
    comfortability, 
    company contained, 
    thoughts shared, 
    all aboard the rise and fall of the train. 

    I don’t feel awry, do you?
    They shake their head, 
    they know not to speak their truths, 
    for if it were known how nervous one felt, 
    the pressures of the heart would have to be spoke,
    a heart would have to admit it melts,
    the tightening of a wanted noose, 
    a newly looser belt. 

    Why on earth would the fissures let loose, 
    steam gusting forth, 
    and geysers pressurising the room, 

    words spoken, or hushed in the dark, 
    addle the mind, 
    or allow another to crawl away, 
    escape, 
    into their comfort zone, 
    where are you — 
    oh, hark?
    I think this takes the cake, 
    I think it hits the mark,
    walk away, away, from the affray?

    Take the sugar, 
    exercise the sweetness,
    be brave, 
    don’t knock objects aside accidentally, 
    the clumsiness can leave a smudge
    that no one will want to save, 

    and celebrate the moments
    when time seems to have healed 
    the brokenness inside of them,
    and eyes, 
    and sight, 
    certain glittering beauty will steal.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home

    Photo by guy stevens on Unsplash
  • Prose Poetry: Dancers from my Dreamscape – 27/04/21

    Prose Poetry: Dancers from my Dreamscape – 27/04/21

    Perhaps there’s a waltz in the room while I’m stuck in my head. I imagine the costumes, the dresses, so pretty. The lightness of step, but winding of intents, I wish I could join them. But here I am, a quiet observer instead. 

    The pairs of beautiful dancers, they twirl and slide, their feet lilting gently, heads and eyes held high. They are sure to be admired; the sum of their grace is a strong total. They are a sight to behold, in my mind, in my mind, in my mind. Their fluidity is whole.

    Some things need to be detailed without much plight. There is no angst, upsets, or strife, simply brightness of life, amazing days. We create what we want, we accept, we receive, we look down upon a gracious heart on their bended knee, what is this, what are these images speaking to me? 

    Sometimes, I struggle to create. But then I look into my mind’s eye and reach from deep within what I cannot initially see. There are important moments, memories, images, emotions and feelings to be gleaned, and for the sake of the process, allow me to display these waltzing kings, princesses, princesses and kings. 

    Finally, the swishing of rich dress fabric ceases to become audible. The dancers’ faces become sombre as they line up one by one facing their other. A curtsey or a bow, and up and away the women and men become on their own segregated way, perhaps they’ll meet one another again very soon to rekindle their love upon a poignant day. 

    I smile, I smile to myself. What a wondrous sight was brought forth from my mind. And I shall not analyse what it might mean, how it made me feel, or what it could speak of ahead of time, no, no, no, I will simply admire and gently, meditatively breathe. 

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

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home

  • Poem: Spiritual Names – 25/04/21

    Poem: Spiritual Names – 25/04/21

    A name rolled off the tongue, 
    started with a stammer, ended with an “A”, 
    I was not upset, I would not be swayed, 
    I was not irritated, I would not be saddened, 
    I would not allow myself to feel hurt or even 
    burdened or betrayed. 

    A slip of the tongue, 
    shall we look this up? 
    Perhaps a spiritual name, 
    underlying of sorts. 

    And then we found it, 
    beautiful description, 
    suited to a T, 
    was this the Universe’s way of highlighting 
    its secret name for me?

    As I read on, 
    I smiled, 
    it described me in ways that fit, 
    although there was some advice I didn’t agree with, 
    I wouldn’t allow my heart to dip –

    I remember at a time wondering what or even if 
    I had a soul name for me, 
    or whether it was what I was named by my loved ones, 
    Miss Lauren M, the assigned name for me. 

    Have I now discovered my spiritual name? 
    Perhaps, perhaps I have not, 
    but the process was lovely all the same, 
    and I liked reading those kindly written words, 
    and for the one who rolled off the name from his tongue, 
    his real name is meant to remain, 
    maybe the same is to be spoken for my chosen, given name.

    Maybe there’s no need to search for something else 
    when there’s no need to replace.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: At Peace – 25/04/21

    Poem: At Peace – 25/04/21

    I sit, 
    and I am at peace with myself. 

    My wants, my necessities, checked in at the door. 
    I am stronger internally, than ever before. 

    All I took was to shed some skin, and take in the light, 
    the light from an orb. 

    I harness that energy, 
    to be exuberant, 
    there’s nothing to waste, 

    butterflies, butterflies, 
    my kind and theirs, 
    their presence is an absolute, 
    perfect, intense. 

    Open doors and dangerous paths, 
    beckon to me, 
    sing to me, 

    come thick, 
    come sure, 
    come fast,

    but I know better than to play 
    in the land of Inbetween, 
    where imagination doth soar, 
    and reality is but a dream.

    Should I really reside in the real world? 
    I then ask myself. 
    My time upon this earth is gathering dust, dust motes, 
    but if this were worth a try, would I become lesser,
    insignificant? 

    This and that is sheer nonsense.

    Dreams deemed as nonsense but without them, 
    how would we fly? 

    Strength in numbers, 
    strength in the heart, 
    a chakra’s green surrounds my aura that shines forth,

    its steady pulsating I own as mine,
    those robust heartstrings are taut,
    they are as much as yours, as much as mine,

    fly butterfly, fly,
    you live, you’ll live,
    for but a short and splendid time. 

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and Prose home

  • Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Strident tones announced from the bell of a trumpet, 
    I’d smile but I won’t show it, 
    I thought this was the chance to recommence, 
    but now, it’ll all be past tense. 

    To progress from the murky muck, 
    a heart flitters nervously, 
    a gut’s contents begins to rot, 

    I thought I could do this, 
    I thought I was strong, 
    but it seems the better route is to go 
    where I am accepted and comfortable all along. 

    I am enough, 
    I am too much for some, 
    I am required to be elsewhere, thanks, 
    the calling here is not enough:
    a feeling of complete numb. 

    For the sake of myself,
    I need to take into account how I will fare 
    in the long run, 
    not only the short term, 
    I need to consider what will work best for me, 
    health-wise and happiness,
    the upsets I wish to curb. 

    And last night, I decided, 
    I decided, and a sense of relief washed over me, 
    the growing stress seemed all but gone,
    my mind, my mind is free.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Prose Poetry: Illuminate – 19/04/21

    Prose Poetry: Illuminate – 19/04/21

    Sometimes, there’s something magical in the air. You can feel it permeating your skin, your muscles, the tendrils of your hair. That electrifying feeling that courses through your very veins, warming you and making you feel loved, and reassuring you that everything, everything will be okay. 

    There is a time in the future when you will feel this, too. Don’t worry your heart about whether it will come, or if it won’t, when, how, or where, how far away, or soon. There is something amazing out there waiting for you, if you desire to take it by the hand: allow it, her, him, whomever, to walk with you, into the Great Unknown, and begin to slowly and freely breathe again. 

    Allow yourself to not be encumbered by the pains of yesterdays. Lift your head higher, let your heart pound with hope, dispel the dismay. And understand that there is a light at the end of everything dark, if we only allow ourselves to open up. There is a choice to be made, to bring forth illumination and joy, or remain in the shadows, though I know, sometimes, this isn’t a choice. In such cases, let others help and hold you up, take their embraces, their kind words, loving and such, because with support, we can make it through the pain and distress, life is for living, not suffering, and I’d hate for anyone to lose sight of what could begin again. Peace, light, love to you, and in your heart, begin in hope to trust.

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

  • Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Losing control,
    walking on a tightrope,
    hurled on a high swing,
    abandoning all that I do not want,
    can signal the end of everything.

    Sweetness in all its magic,
    is temptation as it comes,
    the palatable,
    the rush,
    the seeming goodness,
    the body screams for it,
    by eleven, the damage is done.

    Little pieces initially,
    then vacuuming that room,
    inhaling without true consciousness,
    not even savouring the feeling,
    this feeling I wish to be rid of soon.

    For if it’s acknowledged,
    won’t that mean it’s fine for pleasure to return?
    I’ve spent months on end denying the joy
    of consumption,
    and now, here, look at me now…

    Unravelling the habit?
    Denying myself,
    creating a disservice?
    I’m not sure if I should surrender,
    but what I know is

    I should be grateful,
    I should be thankful,
    trust me, in ways I am,
    but the mindset I want, need, have to retain,
    it cannot be thrust aside,
    if so, well, I’ll be damned.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Hush – 15/04/21

    Poem: Hush – 15/04/21

    Sometimes I want to be quiet, 
    far from conceited, too loud and proud, 
    humble is what I will be, 
    I’ll smile before I speak, 
    think before I utter, aloud. 

    Quiet contemplation
    is what is needed in this case, 
    I won’t allow my heart to fail me,
    should these words, lest they go to waste.

    I know it is important 
    to take time to speak with ease, 
    I know it is wise, once more, 
    to not permit the certain need

    to be heard all the time, 
    to be boisterous and child-like, 
    but how can I alter
    when I feel so under attack
    with these utterances of mine?

    So, hushed is what I’ll be, 
    if I don’t speak, 
    there will be no analysis of me, 
    no written conjectures, 
    no debates of sorts, 
    I will be hush, hush, hushed, 
    and that’s the style I choose, 
    no need to consort. 

    But will silence really save me?
    I’ll learn to care not for judgements,
    I’ll dust them away with pleasure and ease,
    an ultimate form of deliverance,
    can’t you see, won’t you see?

    And in the end they’ll all be appeased,
    no need to hear from,
    let’s have a break from prattling about me,
    is that what they want,
    is that what they need?
    Or only momentarily will the silence be required
    to be?

    I must remember this is for me,
    my mental health is most important, too,
    let me chase the feeling of being free,
    my time here will be in lieu,
    silence can speak of many golden truths.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home