Month: December 2021
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Poem: the swaying violinist – 17/12/21
as I sit by the fireplace I wonder,
what is the occasion we are all searching for?
the virtuosic line of violin sweeping the pavement and
rising with dear dear sentiment
vibrato so wide and with dissent with disapproval
the other turns down his smile and walks away
he does not like this piece
this celebration of mine
a joyous showiness filled with mirth and grins and sways and swings
trip-lett-ing –
flautando then glissing
falling falling for him as he walks from my view
this mistake this mistake I’m putting myself through
but it’s fine, it’s permissible, to fall for the wrong man
for at times we can wine and dine ourselves with our
superficial charms and demands
up in arms are we when he and I waltz together
myself him and that violin we are tiptoeing
we are prance-footing
to the beat to the beat which is spread with the most ravenous of ease,
to please the soloist we must make amends
and allow for its treatment to be stretched
it’s a show, you see,
and he must turn and face me.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Philip Myrtorp on UnsplashPrevious Post: by the gods I have been blessed – 14/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Insta: @laurenm.hancock
This post ‘the swaying violinist’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.
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Poem: by the gods I have been blessed – 15/12/21
the gods have blessed me here today
and I could not be any more grateful
I present myself open arms tongue-tied
fumbling for the right words to speak
so thankful that I have been given this redemption
this ability for reprieve
for soul reflection
for ascension
I feel my spirit begin to detach and surround itself
around my very corporeal being
enlightening my mind, freeing me from suffering
there’s nothing to gain from retrieval of memories
from ill historical and former focusing
their blatant latent effect upon my cerebral and synapses
firing in a manner so repetitively tiring
my emotions couldn’t bear the calling,
the calling oh, how I begged for their stalling
and now, momentous is this portion of the night
my essence is detached yet still intact
surrounding my body like a breath like its very own fog
an aura of mist and coolness is this what ethereal spirit be?
I look to the skies and there is nothing nothing but me to see
I surround this room I breathe myself in
peculiar this moment be
but I give in to the strangeness I allow it to take me in
and suddenly I become at one with this misty translucent sea
the gods have blessed me
I’m freeing myself from the defunct thoughts
the degenerative memories which assisted me naught
I have and will continue to move forward
I surround myself, how obscure, how strange,
but in this instance, it feels like odd perfection,
to know that at least, my corporeal being by this spirit
is being saved.
I can protect myself in a manner so cloaked and sheathed
not even the most perceptive will view my soul
for this spirit, this liveliness, my hope,
has continued to grow and grow
with time, with accentuation, with acceptance that
this life is something to embrace, not complain or be
pessimistic about,
I spent so many years in that negative degenerative haze,
ungrateful state and years of sickeningly unwell mental health –
I almost could not be saved
but
I complain not for I have lived those years
gained life experience
learned from doing not viewing
so many years spent angered and stewing
vile retention of obsession and contention though now
I have become enlightened
in the sense that yes,
by the gods I have been touched to view my truths
I have been blessed.
taught with foresight and acceptance that Life is worth living
Life is worth receiving
Life is worth investing in and worth the chances of giving and giving
and improving and being.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(14/12/21)
Photo by Nadiia Ploshchenko on UnsplashPrevious Post: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Insta: @laurenm.hancock
This post ‘by the gods I have been blessed’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.
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Poem: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21
wreath me with the sadness that you could
no longer carry
battle heavy battle weary,
I will shoulder the metaphoric that ate at your spirit
entranced with the brightness of the airy and sycophantic
I smile, for I will carry on this legacy in a different way
I will revitalise the mourning into celebrations set
for a glorious day
I will understand that the need to be free and wild
reside on the very same occasion,
instant are potent notions, understandings
but, as confusions that will weigh down your heart
as innocent mirth fills my soul
and I glance down
at the soil where I buried those sunflower seeds
with sunshine water and smiles
I gave them my emotions I gave them my all and now the wreath I disrobe
take away that layer that protected me
brown-green pine needles, Christmassy armour
and I remember with sadness how I felt
recalling that other
that moment when I carried heartache almost eternally
and felt that suffering (suffering) as I stiffened with vile intent
of precarious ascent
my chest rises my chest heaves
my mind begs for insistence
to leave leave leave this scene
I don’t need to view your final resting place
I don’t need to understand why you fled my life
my state
and though you still exist, and elsewhere live
it’s as though you are dead to me
I carry your wreath
I yield all your suffering
I beg for you to remember
always remember me
that love you perpetually felt from
innocent naive me.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(13/12/21)
Photo by Teodora Popa Photographer on UnsplashPrevious Post: reflection – 13/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Insta: @laurenm.hancock
This post ‘Wreathed Perpetually’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.
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Poem: reflection – 13/12/21
haven’t always been the best person
haven’t perpetually been the kindest human
in times of pain I lash out and let them have it
my heart, wounded, dripping by the bloodied scourge
and the very dagger sliced into my fragile ego
drips drip drippps with overt sentiment and angry vehemence
how dare I be slighted my mind will scream
how dare I be wronged my pride shall call
but the truth is, there are two sides to every story,
and I can’t always be stuck playing, rewinding Side B
hours and hours on repeat,
lyrically paining.
Side A has some truth to it, and best acknowledge,
acknowledge the words permeating, winding
so freely, because,
there’s no point in dwelling on a broken empty situation
which has no love for progress, for gratitude, for positivity
nor feeling blessed.
although what is love when pieces are sharper than
fierce puppy needle teeth
piercing my very being and allowing me to see, to see,
that my latent anger, my fiercely wrought armour,
my defences guarding were no longer needed,
BUT, why look to the past, it’s something to learn from, yes,
but I do not need to allow it to grace my world again.
they are gone, never again to be seen, not even if the mouths
of the world yawned open to engulf me,
or perhaps, in their own twisted way,
reward me.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(12/12/21)
Photo by NeONBRAND on UnsplashPrevious Post: disarmed – 12/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Instagram: laurenm.hancock
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Poem: disarmed – 12/12/21
change is as impermanent as the irreverent footsteps
brushing against the floorboards
then carpeted pavement
travelling toward the bedroom door for a glimmer
of your strength as your heart it beats quietly in slumber
days well spent days well spent
I sigh to myself for I see the journey within your nightly trials
in your eyes sparkles glimmer
alterations to be observed and saved
soul shimmersyou altered your life path
you designed a new trial to be outlasted and
mistakes made wittingly
aside and cast
you grew in redemption
a beautiful soul reflection
sewn regeneration
flowering ascension
imperfect connections
yet perfect corrections
as bold and wondrous as the claret flowing through
your bursting spirit
your special soul
need I, dare I mention?
the colours of your fall,
the shade of your winter soul,
the spring in your flowering steps,
the beautiful summer sunset,
you are evolving as you become the centre,
the One,
I’m torn – do I let you sleep
or wake you, embrace you,
snuffling warmth?
I just want to encourage you
congratulate you
for the change that’s become of you
your flight path
nothing to fear
no harm,
you’ve made it through the danger zone
and blissfully
grinningly
I see you hovering and soaring above
that former storm.
well done, my lovely,
well done.
my heart you have eternally disarmed.
(09/12/21)
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.Previous Post: personal astronomy – 12/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Instagram: laurenm.hancock
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Poem: personal astronomy – 12/12/21
as I speak, I wonder,
what is there to gather from this world we inhabit?
what is there to take away from it?
to cherish, to treasure from it?
so much to glean so many concepts felt, seen
and thriving is this feeling I have within me
for I have grown wiser from my experiences
played puppet and now I dance the strings with ease
it’s electrifying to know that I can direct my movements
rest assured, Life is calling,
finally,
and I am welcomed by it.
there is no chance that I’ll allow it to
pass me by again
or wreak havoc on my heart and mind
allow others to observe, perhaps gain,
it’s not their fault any more than it is mine,
human nature can be cruel,
and unkind.
selfish gains were proceeds
and my life seemed unworthy
moments taken from me
but I gave and I gave
like rolling pebbles I threw moments away
and now I reign and roar –
this World I explore.
so many experiences, so many instances
so many to love to appreciate to share knowledge with
creativity to become more learned shared growth
and brightness personified fills my irises
pupils engorged selfish eyes
I will
take. my. fill
and my heart screams with passion,
so shrill.
I wish I had learned earlier how to be a participant
and take my taste,
that its not about receiving but giving also,
to others we must respect and kneel
and equality will soon reign when I realise
what is now staring me in the face:
Love, Life, Personal Astronomy,
travel the stars moon sun planets of my heart and my soul
ever so freely…
(11/12/21)
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Ben Mack from PexelsPrevious Post: inner child – 11/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Instagram: laurenm.hancock
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Poem: inner child – 11/12/21
resonating frequencies
the juvenility isn’t childish
it’s precious
our inner children come out to play
shy eyes mischievous gazes
instead of claps we play with words
his play is exciting, skilled, self-assured.
we giggle together as we converse with ease
flinging passions upon the table
how we meld so easily
minds connect soul spirit
intellect
how amazing to find another
who treasures the magic within the other
almost immediately
smiling delightedly we knew there was a connection
our shared interests
our creative fusions
take a sip of my designer caffeine hit,
yes, predilections,
we’re just adults housing our curious inner children.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(10/12/21)Previous Post: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Instagram: laurenm.hancock
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Poem: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21
fatigue washes over me
like a deadly dirty sin
engulfing me embodying me
takes its fill of me in
my vision how it blurs
swaying leaning I reach forth
unintentionally, of course
im falling im falling in a manner
completely unacceptable
breaking me
there’s no such thing as monotony
I fall asleep in place
sitting up
apparent hours minutes seconds seem to race
i’m broken yet oddly assured that I’ll at least
succeed at gaining some rest
the writing that ordinarily takes ten minutes to pen
fifteen minutes left until the almost-full hour
disjointed thoughts and messages jotted
now to entertain.
I will not cry I will not moan
victim mentality is not in my being known
I do not know why I am suffering this way
though, three to four hours a night
each rest is broken like shattered pavement
beneath my bare toes
concentration is a joke
my eyes my mind travels
traverse their own wanderlust
and walking ahead upon a path
noticing men and women canoodling
at half-mast
I cannot ascertain fully what is occurring
inside my brain
though I suspect, ascertain, hypomanic is
the state.
shall we lead into mania,
I wonder to myself,
this polar extreme highlighted by my fervent actions
frantically creating unto myself
but there comes a point where I must
Slow. It. Down.
I do not know I do not know
how to escape this vicious cycle
or, am I meant to simply deal with it
on my own?
the moral support which
could be provided
is severely unacceptable
for some assessments are rubbish
wanting me to be under a yowling’s affair
instead:
tik tok tik tok laissez-faire
rare visitations to my foreign bed.
Original artwork by myself.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(10/12/21)Previous Post: boy, what’s your name again? -10/12/21
clear to see – 10/12/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Instagram @laurenm.hancock
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Poem: boy, what’s your name again? – 10/12/21
I don’t want somebody like you
I never wanted to be ruined and unfulfilled
what I hope for
what I wish for
what I dream
is the potential for repair
to love, succeed, to be
are you part of that picture?
were you planning to be part of that fluidity?
that blossoming flower and the stamen reaching forth for
that other, pollinator, conjoiners?
the truth is I never wanted anyone like you.
I don’t know what I wanted.
but what I needed,
what I need,
now that’s a different assertion.
a competition?
Perhaps, win my heart if competition you
don’t dread,
weave the dreamcatchers, dreamscapes fly in wisps
and while away time, time, time,
and we’ll sleep until noon, or, at least, we’ll pretend to…
wet dreaming lashes and wanton desirous passions,
last night I wondered where you were, on your way
to teach so many life lessons to my heart
when it’s on heat with fire and ice and dancing
with disastrous notions which only have accents
upon the truest of consultations –
darling, oh darling, comment on my flow,
accentuate the designation of self-knowledge
which grows,
display all the personal power and growth
you have ascertained,
for this, I find utterly alluring,
boy, what’s that again, your name?
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(10/12/21)Previous Post: clear to see – 10/12/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and prose
Instagram: laurenm.hancock
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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