Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: February 2022

  • Artwork – 21/02/22

    Artwork – 21/02/22

    Wide eyed – original artworks by myself, (c) 2022

    Dance lightly – (c) 2022

    Beautiful as a buttercup – (c) 2022

  • Published on ‘Sad Girls Club Literary Blog’ – ‘Resonating Flautando’ – 21/02/22

    Published on ‘Sad Girls Club Literary Blog’ – ‘Resonating Flautando’ – 21/02/22

    Today I have been published on Sad Girls Club with my piece ‘Resonating Flautando’. Thank you so much to Sarah and the rest of the editorial team for this honour. Please find the beginning of my poem below and click to continue reading at their website.

    My work can also be found at @laurenm.hancock on Instagram where I post my art and words. Having recently undergone some serious mental health issues, my work on Insta is not representative of the whole of myself, however, thank you for visiting if you choose to, nonetheless.

    resounding flautando

    I’ve been becoming more
    the more I realise I don’t need to
    store those
    angsty jealous feelings
    there’s so much in store in life
    if I control their lack of desire
    lack of fire
    lack of attraction
    so much inaction
    and I find, I find that there’s no need
    for me to hide the precious parts of
    me to flautando over that fingerboard so
    softly spoken

    continue reading here…

  • Sketch: green dancer in motion

    Sketch: green dancer in motion

    The green dancer in motion: original artwork by myself (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
  • Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Image from Pixabay

    There was serendipity one night,

    Fate was there to be seen.

    Through an hourglass or an oculus

    Spirits there to dream.

    But these were not pleasant,

    They stole away my breath,

    Gasp, hope,

    The murder they intended,

    Fearful,

    Nasty little boys,

    Irreverent scope.

    Will never happen,

    They will not achieve this intention,

    However ill meant.

    The pathways they are eradicating,

    Newest tunnelling,

    Funnelling,

    Like the spider that she was,

    No longer is,

    She loves in singular, not deuce,

    Never three,

    And for the whirling in her mind,

    Taps of coffee cups,

    One two and three,

    Been talking and talking

    All morning for hours,

    Please, won’t you let it be??

    (C) 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • poem: moonlight – 19/02/21

    poem: moonlight – 19/02/21

    Photo by Vedad Colic on Pexels.com
    I do not determine destiny. Nor do I guide my own fate.
    But I can manipulate the circumstances, make sure I arrive to those very, very late.
    There is truth often seen in the mirror
    or in the soundscapes in my mind
    they’re better off acknowledged
    listened to,
    the voice felt within, what is being said inside.

    It’s not a cloying tone
    in fact it has no sound at all
    its the pinnacle of the total life cycle though is
    as pretty as a rhododendron.

    Quieten passageways of the subliminal mind
    address doors and escapes which you were not meant to find
    understand the gravity of life which is so soon
    forthcoming
    the joyous times
    soon to revive
    to allow me to see them
    through.

    wander not the garden of displacement
    nor aggravate myself about being at a specific time and place,
    I can conjure the punctuality later
    there’s no time for me to address
    this panic
    hullaballoo
    what matters most is we fix this, assuredly, without nuclear, nor guns
    to be provided as of late.

    Peaceful is the potency,
    the calm is in the before the storm,
    where we view the situation reverently
    and carry on
    carry on.

    I do not realise entirely how far their interruptions
    will go,
    although I am solidified, I am gentrified
    and I am neither paralysed
    nor shocked and untamed,
    the land here, is quiet, peaceful, cool,
    and I will dance, with my grandma,
    I will dance ‘neath the full moon.
    © Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved. 

  • new life

    what i need to do

    what im trying to do

    is clear the toxicity from my words and my mind

    its a journeying

    its a process

    humbling it is in style

    to wake up and realise how irreverent I’ve been

    so utterly disrespectful to the ones i love and need

    i am ruining them i have ruined them

    their hearts and minds within a dream

    by aching words i am now suffering

    feeling the pain at knowing what i said how i spoke

    was far less than comfortable or tame

    i can only bleed so much energy for i am splattering with ease

    the ink blots the chimney tops

    roar to life as burn pillage the hunted one

    but i am here i am resting relaxing my ailing mind

    and somehow ill know ILL KNOW that i will make it through again

    turning over those hinting leaves
    and reassuming my good goals

    (c) Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: won’t go back in time and keys with missing lines

    Prior to falling mental ill again this year, I was soaring with confidence, happy, joyous, kind, loving. My illness makes me otherwise. I wanted to share this so you understood how I was before this. This was written in 2021. halfway through I commence another poem and you can sense the missing works removed and the switch in mindset commencing. I’m not sure why I am feeling I need to share, it’s just I feel I owe others some explanation for why everything has become so awry.

    Thank you for reading.

    no going back

    i won’t go back in time

    there’s no place to delve into what’s been resolved

    my past is mine

    it’s been settled

    laid to rest

    dragging up my history has become ancient

    overtold

    I reflected and ruminated

    analysed and dictated

    shared and separated

    my innards from the despairing

    from yearnings to their moorings

    from desires to insufferable erring

    I won’t show myself in my shadows

    in my dimmed light

    I spent those years struggling

    fighting

    to see myself

    gain positive flight

    growth

    I want to move on

    move forward

    I’m doing so, already have

    extenuating circumstances

    grown in redemption

    become a mature woman

    knowing myself

    slowly on my way to almost

    entirely

    learning me thread by thread

    stitches made

    joining stuffing to its surface

    I have made myself stronger

    unravel myself again?

    I have no desire

    I can express vulnerability

    to others in a manner that doesn’t

    negatively wallow,

    damage, hurt myself,

    tirelessly self-consciously stubbornly meander

    I will tell my tales positively

    I will share with blooming goodness and fragrant delight

    perfection is not always present in this life

    but to share struggles, constant strife laid to rest,

    why, I see no point.

    self-growth is what concerns my mind,

    my heart, dictates my soul,

    to inspire with beauty and wonder

    I want others to know my all

    my discoveries,

    self-knowledge, how I’ve become stronger

    resilient whole

    without needing the love of another

    without being mended by the weavings of another’s story

    why, that surely has merit itself.

    watch me as I fly onward and upward

    soar in the wind that confidently carries my body

    airy free effervescent is this scene

    I’m spread as heron wings

    my whiteness vulnerable and precious

    able to be besmirched or stained

    but I’ll keep myself bright and pristine

    no sense of fear

    of revelation

    no fright from fear nor strife.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    2nd draft

    no going back

    I won’t go back in time

    I’ve no place delving what’s been resolved

    my past is mine

    it’s been settled

    laid to rest

    won’t drag up history

    ancient,

    overtold.

    already reflected and ruminated

    analysed and dictated

    shared and separated

    dragged my innards from despairing

    yielded yearnings from their moorings

    sliced-diced desires from insufferable erring

    I won’t reveal myself in shadows

    by a dirty bespeckled light

    I spent years struggling

    to see hope,

    myself

    to gain growth

    now I walk proudly

    take positive flight

    I wanted to move on

    move forth

    I’m doing so, already done

    extenuating circumstances

    enriched by redemption:

    a maturing woman

    finally knowing herself.

    on a journey of almost

    entirely

    learning myself,

    stitch by thread

    seams made

    joining stuffing to the surface

    I have made myself stronger

    unravel myself again?

    I have no desire.

    I can express vulnerability

    in a manner which doesn’t

    perpetually wallow,

    damage, hurt, tarnish myself,

    tirelessly, self-consciously, stubbornly meander

    I tell my tales positively

    share with blooming goodness and fragrant delight

    perfection may not always be present in this life

    but to share struggles, constant strife already laid to rest,

    why, I see no point,

    my stability I will not test.

    self-growth concerns my mind,

    envelopes my heart, dictates my soul,

    to inspire with beauty and wonder

    I want others to know my all

    my discoveries,

    personal knowledge, how I’ve become wiser

    resilient, whole

    without needing love or approval of another

    without needing mending by wefts of the tale of another

    why, that surely has merit itself.

    watch me as I fly onward and upward

    soar in the wind that confidently treasures my body

    airy free effervescent is this scene

    I’m spread as heron wings

    my whiteness vulnerable and precious

    easily besmirched or stained

    but I’ll keep myself bright and pristine

    no sense of fear

    of revelation

    no fright from fear nor strife

    no endings

    only the beginning of new life.

    to explore with colours and words

    my universe our universe what God has given to us

    and I see the tapestry of the world now

    with its stitches weavings of colourful wool and such

    perhaps gentle shining silken thread

    I’m not sure who has contributed to this art

    there are no names no tags no copyrights

    just a share

    a conglomeration of beauty and pain and wonder and hope

    and everything within the existence of the human feeling scope

    it pains me to view some areas but I will move on move on

    from these emotions because the way I want to live

    to operate to breathe

    is with a sense of reverence and freedom

    immense gratitude for this life that I live.

    the blueprint of my life thus mapped

    formerly detailed and bent,

    corrected straightened light

    peaceful direct,

    and pointed, poignant, heaven sent….

    I don’t digress, live for bliss and moments

    but the poetess within me turns to justice

    I smile so widely and beam politely

    knowing that the blueprint is fine and dandy

    there’s no need for alterations

    locks changed, forced ill-communications

    the potion, portion, nay, patent is right, decidedly,

    traversing false insinuations.

    who needs instructions ‘bout operation

    no bent cupid’s doll to be explored nor teased

    there are no answers only keys

    keys upon my pristine skin.

    for in my skin this hope be in,

    within a rose oh, how I know

    unravelling delightful prose

    irreverent reverence ultimately knows,

    I’ll feel fierce scent of acidity flood my soul,

    intoxicating insignias wafting to my nose.

    there’s no danger any longer

    could not give a damn ‘bout spiteful strangers

    some negative others naysaying

    behind straightened hands

    I am pure I am truth I am goodness

    won’t you ask any chosen man?

    I speak from the heart

    dedicate my words

    look to my spirit

    it shines with rugged proof

    knowing know there’s room for progress

    I’ve redesigned the blueprint

    there’s nothing dangerous, ill-fated nor complicated

    to it.

    so unravel their hints

    their cloying intent

    I don’t mind being spoken of,

    but I’d rather productivity, time well spent,

    no true inclination behind unkind cruelty

    whilst alongside mint green karma flows with ease   

    toward the heart

    the force of life

    tattooed key

    home chakra

    happy universe –

    happy fortunate wife.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: a winding tale 15/02/22

    Poem: a winding tale 15/02/22

    The wolfpack has appeared

    theyre kind and proud and true

    guiding me with circumstance andn power to see me through

    they howl and bay at the growing moon 

    theyre arisen so self assured

    but teach me, nein, I’ll teach them naught,

    we have

    skills to rise and trot.

    like ponies there are rearings 

    on a carousel there are reckonings

    interjections please, 

    dont irritate with ease, 

    with lightening speed I’ll fly through the breeze.

    their manes they are growing glowing 

    with eyes as fierce as fire

    who knows what perturbs them hour upon hour

    and unknowing is the fact of these –

    she will dance and dance within 

    like sprite’s hearts and wings will fly indeed

    and then to a microchosm a cell she will relate

    an embryo created within a darling that will come too late

    she’s paining in the abdomen or perhaps paining in the shield

    what’s more is not less a determiner for the future future trysts

    lay down within that field… 

    I shall not be open with every single thought

    no longer sharing every devilish or angelic words signed or taught

    and melodies I have created within my very own head

    these are spellings I create for myself 

    and they will rest just as I rest within bed

    I may go on at length 

    I may throw in metaphorical nouse 

    but I’m damned sure as proud that I could avoid the tidings of that day

    and here’s the point 

    let’s reach it – cut loose

    no longer hovering there in the breeze

    the mob have gone in distaste

    no more nooses 

    as of late. 


    (c) Copyright 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Original artwork by myself.

  • Poem: ridding of evil – 16/02/21

    Poem: ridding of evil – 16/02/21

    Ridding oneself of evil

    Blind purgatory as we fall,

    Dragging them down

    Then rising, no fall

    I have enlightened these spirits

    I bring them to melodies,

    I sing for my instance

    Hear the calls.

    I will sing for these

    I wander not the graveyard

    Nor passageways of hell

    Nihilism nihilism there’s not nothing there at all

    But a wide vast waiting corridor

    Liminal

    For hearts broken whelped no more

    I will conjure conjure and then the timing will be now

    I will dance upon the streetways and macabrely tell

    Then to be quiet to be careful

    Watch my path oh the path with ease

    A mammoth fall won’t know it all

    Fly, do I dare? subterfuge already, aware?

    Because one decided to flagrantly dream

    Here come the hues

    I shan’t be afraid no more

    I will never call my, our names out

    For we have much to tell.

    Much and much but I won’t breathe a peep

    Little slim prancer, a little random,

    Speak…

    Instead speak my truths my praises

    A welcoming land is awaiting pathway Just begun

    I won’t pledge allegiance to the wrong views anymore

    I will peruse independently

    And this won’t be a spell

    I will grow in requirements

    Taking on prerequisites, unveil,

    Perhaps not because I’m already a master of something that’s unknown to most as of yet

    And trundle away

    Begin the affray

    And times and times will NEVER EVEN TELL

    (c) Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Image from Pixabay

  • Poem: Placement – 10/02/20

    Can Redeemable I be, thy irreverent clause?
    A chink in the armour, karmic retribution calls?
    Truth tells, forever yours?
    I’ll be loyal, less judgemental and kind,
    But boy how I will need to bite my tongue at perceived thieves who wish to reach and ride alongside.

    I will smile and be lovely, teach the students about my condition daily,
    But did I feel comfortable enough to allow them to see?
    No, this bristling anger, this aggravation felt within me.

    Within this soul is the devils clasp, gripping me surely tightly forever it seems he will outlast
    I do not know how to cause the grievances and illegitimate littering around a litter of short tongued beings biting at the bit for a ride of sorts, a trot, a canter, should we gallop, dare I beg to ask?

    Because what calms me is him, the big M, the man himself, from a far off land he hails,
    Mozart cures, he develops, him to me he brightens with joy and overwhelms.

    I love this source, the Source, of very life itself m, magnificent it would be to touch this master’s pages, originals, my heart, I would gasp.

    So how now is my mental health, you might ask? The term there dancing on everybody’s hearts.
    Well well well, I am getting there, I am improving, I am becoming better, a gentle rewording, a subtler knowing. Pages of cadenzas on the paper singing songs Melodies for one another
    Mozart, won’t he pen another melody,
    His giggling curio so lovely to see feel, whilst he be?

    Changing my keys,
    Unlocked by nobody but those who can truly see
    My irreverences were part and are in part of my melodic manic suffering,
    Won’t you dance with me?
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Image from Google