Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: August 2021

  • Poem: Writer’s Blocked – 23/08/21

    Poem: Writer’s Blocked – 23/08/21

    I don’t feel like writing,
    no inspiration to scribe,
    my subconscious thoughts
    once delirium,
    no vacuous,
    I want to hide,
    to burrow my thoughts beneath
    the doona,
    my sheets,
    embarrassed, uninspired,
    where have you gone, Poetic Dreams?

    Replaced instead with moods,
    dreary, morose,
    I cannot see positivity further
    than my nose,
    what happened to the ability
    to contemplate? It seems
    it’s gone with the wind,
    awaiting a delivery, please.

    Extract from my mind
    the encumbrances,
    the barriers to ambiance,
    the inability to fly freely
    with the pen,
    my mind, it needs to mend,
    to see itself, its contents
    in the reflection
    then thought’s will be
    quantified,
    quantifiable,
    my ability returns
    to be seen.

    Gently, tenderly
    then will great haste
    and aplomb
    my pen’s ink dances
    across the paper
    sending my soul alive
    from numb,

    pulsating with fervent hope,
    delectable swirls and loops,
    my frantic handwriting’s proof
    that listless writer’s block
    can be wiped away
    with hopeful, passionate views.

    I shan’t allow my feelings
    which depressed,
    to return, again,
    at least not so soon,
    I will bask in the luxurious luminance
    of the inspiringly full and
    enlightening Moon.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Incandescent – Lines of 7 – 23/08/21

    Previous Post: Bright – 21/08/21

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  • Micropoetry: Incandescent – Lines of 7 – 23/08/21

    Micropoetry: Incandescent – Lines of 7 – 23/08/21

    I sit with eyes upon the fire
    Incandescent
    Glowering hour
    Revealing to me
    Curls and flickers
    Reminds me of
    your internal power.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Bright – 21/08/21

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  • Poem: Bright – 21/08/21

    Poem: Bright – 21/08/21

    Nothing to be depressed about,
    so positive,
    so joyous – so free,
    encumbered paths we could say
    but ecstatic I choose to be,
    it’s about which side to view
    and walk alongside Life,
    I could pinpoint, acknowledge,
    tiny points of strife,
    elaborate,
    with magnitude,
    some attitude filled with,
    rife,
    with annoyance, with irritation,
    or feelings of ‘discrimination’.

    But the truth is I’m blessed
    to be here, well and breathing,
    the strength, resilience, in
    myself and others I am seeing,
    I could list all that’s here for us,
    right and lasting,
    lingering,
    hope, especially,
    is something I am carrying.

    I am grateful for my health,
    my family, my dear friendships,
    my comforts, and deep love,
    Life’s material things,
    those which bring comfort,
    music, sound, paint,
    art, colours, company combine,
    I don’t chose to inhabit positivity —
    instead it’s bred within me.

    Cast aside, long ago,
    the feelings of downbeat,
    downtrodden,
    the ‘world’s against me’s’,
    I didn’t need to be like that,
    to live like that,
    it was so stifling,
    couldn’t breathe.

    Negativity can suck one into
    its slimy, vicious grasp,
    no enlightenment within,
    to exist then – what a task.

    Turned about face to the sun,
    arms thrown open,
    embrace that amazing warmth,
    while I could find saddening points to exist upon,
    I’ve decided instead to be
    bright, bright, bright,
    radiance fills my lark-song.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Adore – 20/08/21
    Previous Post: Viewing Me – 19/08/21

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  • Poem: Adore – 20/08/21

    Poem: Adore – 20/08/21

    Tempt the temptress, her former lucid life,
    where round and about the memories
    her behaviour once was rife,
    and haunting her, within her sheets
    is music sounding on repeat,
    that jingle jangle, emotive, replete,
    hanging on the edge,
    fumbled footsteps on a road so steep,
    into history these words shall keep.

    Taunt not the woman for being dumb-
    founded by the options before her,
    numb, was she, her vision pure,
    or so it seemed,
    far less than demure.

    But undertaking the melody is syncopation,
    unexpected haunting dreams,
    the -ah-ah-ah of off-beat rhythms,
    heartbeat pounds, beating mallets,
    her ribcage is the prison.

    Because it was her heart that was the cause,
    the prisoner, too, so wondrous yet lost,
    yearning for that which should come to be,
    would it ever be? Her soulmate, would she see?

    Understanding there are many out there,
    available to pick-her-apart,
    and knowing that which would also drive,
    sending her mind and pulse, alive, alive!
    But it was required, really,
    that her baggage be left,
    at the entranceway before her path
    could be walked yet,
    reaching, open arm, open hand,
    open palm,
    for someone to love her,
    and him in return.

    The bittersweet madness of the executed times
    would send her cursed tale
    forward, centre, and front,
    but care little would the true one,
    the one who will decide to watch her with
    widened, adoring eyes,
    sweep her in his arms and enliven himself
    with her wit, her truth, her character, intelligence,
    and charms,
    no excuses, no lies.

    She does not boast, she knows truly within,
    she’s worth much more than bad behaviour
    experiences,
    expletives within!
    Wipe away times of hurt,
    unappreciative, taunting words,
    moving forth to the future,
    where she won’t ever need to call for anything,
    anyone,
    yearning? No, hear her, watch her eyes learn.

    Goodness will come to those who listen
    at every turn.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Viewing Me – 19/08/21

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  • Poem: Viewing Me – 19/08/21

    Poem: Viewing Me – 19/08/21

    White hot memory sears within,
    anointed scars invisible yet protruding,
    baring all that could be seen
    whilst disguising what’s most precious to me,

    a walking conundrum,
    I want to be viewed
    but not open for judgement
    or to be perused.

    What happened to resurrecting a dream,
    from a far-off, whimsical place
    where my abounding energy and spirit
    can be encouraged?

    Where sweet, precious moments,
    caring eyes fall upon
    that which carry me,
    assist me to travel through life.

    Essentially speaking,
    my intent is not for
    all memories to once again breathe,

    they have before laid dormant,
    tucked away,
    unforgotten, forgotten,
    or so it seemed,

    but a moment of rumination
    and here they are,
    back again,

    surprising though,
    they cause no harm,
    at least not now,
    they’re located beyond high walls.

    And why bother with analysis
    when times were dusted and done,
    one and three,
    lucky thirteen,
    has it be so very long?

    Choices made do not matter,
    it was a different life,
    no one’s going to be affected anymore,
    but me,
    tarred reputation need not matter;
    I’ll never hear the sound of pitter-patter.

    Nowadays, I’m renewed,
    life path though somewhat directionless to some,
    I still achieve small tasks daily,
    becoming more, myself I’m learning
    to be amazed with,
    for compared to how crumbled I’d been
    as a total sum,
    it made me wish to sob, to cry,
    and then some.

    Yet here I am, reigning triumphant,
    with a precious relationship between heart and mind,
    beating, pounding, ecstatic,
    for, forward, tomorrow,
    this journey means everything,
    I say goodbye to sorrows.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Welcoming Humanity – 17/08/21

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  • Poem: Welcoming Humanity – 17/08/21

    Poem: Welcoming Humanity – 17/08/21

    I lived a dream
    so raw, impure,
    and now it seems
    my path’s demure.

    Remaining chaste,
    living only for good,
    giving to the common man and woman
    like I know I should.

    Smiles all around,
    humble lips and ears,
    braggart not,
    enlightening my path
    as I resurrect it,

    my journey as I learn it
    I correct it,
    I accomplish some of my finest
    whilst living life in earnest.

    Ask me not of
    prior names,
    accolades nor
    feigned dames,

    no time assured
    from then to now,
    ask me not,
    for I won’t tell
    nor frown!

    Undoing that which
    needed to die,
    needles prickling
    where sleepin’ dogs lie,
    leave the past,
    search the present with haste,
    tomorrow is but a date,
    cement my fate!

    I can rest assured
    that future truths
    will be enriched with
    bounty of beauty,
    experiences willed,
    impassioned by thy Source,
    my energy thrives and lives,
    peace be unto
    this urchin, my sins
    I decided to forgive.

    Prior memories don’t last,
    I’m thankful to not recall,
    all in all
    I’m living, breathing
    my all,

    my search for myself,
    and my treasured path,
    with warmth,
    humanity is finally welcoming me,
    great love at last.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Poetry Collaboration by Amber and Lauren M. Hancock – Chrysalis of Hope – 16/08/21

    Previous Post: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21

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  • Poetry Collaboration by Amber and Lauren M. Hancock – Chrysalis of Hope – 16/08/21

    Poetry Collaboration by Amber and Lauren M. Hancock – Chrysalis of Hope – 16/08/21

    Nestled in the womb of creation,
    perils face the existence of human civilisation;
    birthing much chaos and delirium, 

    unknowingly, we settle in,
    unaware of what our future both promises 
    and what it may bring,

    ever-open hands reach for warmth
    outside our hollows,
    to worldly next-of-kin.

    Hope bears feathers, perched in soul,
    humming a frequency beyond words;
    the eternal cacophony gifting gold from the unknowns,

    upon this hope we glide,
    and then, as though, now sliding into
    pirouettes with symphonic style,

    the treasure bears more than we believed
    able to be delivered,
    let us adore these with calming eyes,

    ecstatic hands, while feathers drift, softly land,
    vivid types of wisdom only known to
    enlightened woman and man.

    The imprinted consciousness
    upon the soothed clean conscience 
    of our astral journeying pillows

    embodies the archaic knowledge 
    of the ancients whose remedies 
    and generational lineage lays

    patiently in hibernation for the
    pivotal metamorphosis of the spiritual development 
    of man amongst turmoil of the cyclical yugas.

    In chrysalis, we lay,
    pods enclosed with passion, with verve,
    growing, minutely, each passing day,

    fragments becoming whole,
    engorging ourselves, we know that when
    we enlarge our intentions, and mend and heave hearts,

    there is no matter in internalising
    this primordial knowledge
    other than understanding we are coming to a close,

    and still the beginnings, unknown,
    our subconscious thread speaks of moments,
    instances, which enlighten even if we do not fully attend,

    but it is with innate knowing,
    with peace and passion,
    that hopefulness and truth breathe as a whole.

    Copyright © 2021 Dios Raw and Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    – By Amber (Dios-Raw) and Lauren (Lauren M. Hancock)

    Previous Post: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21

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  • Poem: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21

    Poem: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21

    Wonder streams through gaps
    ‘tween trees,
    shrubbery welcomes gusty breeze,
    laughter twinkles above horizon seam,
    magic brightens eyes,
    I’ve no inclination to leave this scene.

    Hands entrust
    something precious ‘neath
    benevolent sun,
    heart pounds,
    mood ecstatic,
    forged bonds,
    yes! Cries of yes
    affirms tearful nods.

    It’s the beginning
    of something precious,
    glimmer in excess,
    gems cut a shine,
    refractions bold,
    I stress,

    dances of rainbow shimmer
    upon her delicate finger,
    his proud chest puffed forth
    in a glorious manner,
    as though a proud peacock,
    strutting about now
    with his love,
    eternal partner,
    fervent dove,
    his salvation,
    his lucky treasure,
    his precious love,
    now and forever.

    The breeze bears witness
    to this union,
    cemented, emphatic,
    bold and nuanced,
    there’s admiration within her eyes,
    his cast grateful passion
    as he glances nigh,
    for they are as one,
    wondrous breeze streams past their joy,
    circumstance is hearts quickened,
    such beauty before I.

    And now I retreat into
    the freshness of the forest,
    thinking I’ve viewed something
    so special,
    deep down, I know,
    I am aware, that
    his manner, so articulate,
    and her acceptance,
    thus glorious,
    is enough to decide
    that in my life,
    I’ll welcome every warm,
    heartfelt circumstance
    with enveloping acceptance.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Her Sorcery – 13/08/21

    Previous Post: ‘The Hot Room’ – 13/08/21

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  • Poem: Her Sorcery – 13/08/21

    Poem: Her Sorcery – 13/08/21

    Haunted are her eyes
    above a winsome smile,
    wistful character is she,
    hoping for more
    in a while.

    Fallen by the wayside,
    all her trickery,
    her witchery,
    her cosmetics,
    her haberdashery.

    By goodness what is told
    beneath those furrowed brows?
    Heavy times envisaged,
    poignant moments told,
    she loves to flicker
    her eyes from the
    land to the sea,
    a calming peacefulness
    takes over she.

    Without her layers,
    which peeled away
    one by one,
    she’s naked as the babe
    she entered the world as,
    all magic spells come undone,
    without the falsity
    of rare moments of rage,
    she no longer finds herself
    or others
    disharmoniously caged.

    For their prison was this –
    requirements to abide by society,
    she just wants to flow now,
    rippling waves,
    breathe, gasp freely,
    ride the swells of less commotion,
    battle away prior despair,
    no longer a ‘witch’ but a
    fair haired innocent maiden…

    What was wrong with her sorcery?
    She’d not ever know,
    only condemned for being
    different,
    not lining up in
    conforming rows,
    her magic is what
    she held pride in,
    what made her so proud,
    shriek and cackle
    she wishes now,
    to elaborate aloud.

    They have changed her,
    made her ‘pure’,
    sootiness cast away,
    undo, undo,
    bring back the smudges,
    the unsightly smears,
    her darkness is, was, forthcoming,
    can you feel it, dears?
    There’s so much she has to say,
    watch as the pretences fall away.

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

    Previous Post: ‘The Hot Room’ – 13/08/21

    Previous Post: ‘Interior’ – 11/08/21

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  • Poem: The Hot Room – 13/08/21

    Poem: The Hot Room – 13/08/21

    Orchids wilt in the hot room.
    It is summer here, outside, a belligerent winter
    with a dying, poorly Moon.
    They have thrown themselves from their stakes.
    Stakes which were there to provide safety,
    protection,
    backboned projections.

    The orchids, they are careless, for they have
    left their safe havens,
    their ties have been cut,
    severed from the heaven they once
    grew towards,
    now wilted, lethargic.

    What a sorry sight for eyes,
    used to falling upon beauty,
    now dejection and misery,
    once-taut, now lacklustre under the
    oppressive heat’s fury,
    the split system churns out
    Celsius, five and twenty,
    degrees of measure too hot
    for the orchids,
    whom cannot stop wilting.

    Their heads, they can barely lift,
    too much of a trouble it is to subsist,
    rejection of the support
    because I cannot, will not,
    do not want to entertain that foggy breath
    of mist,
    morning time offers some solace
    when the fiery heater does its trick.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

    Previous Post: Interior – 11/08/21

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