Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Author: Lauren M. Hancock

  • Poem: Soulful Sky-Blue – 14/09/21

    Poem: Soulful Sky-Blue – 14/09/21

    The colour of his soul is sky-blue,
    visceral, with tinges of mottled red.
    I view him from an angle of security,
    I know more of him than others have dared to have said or can see.
    For there is more beneath the surface
    of his scruffy-haired expressions, soft words, gentle whimsical looks,
    I know more of him than many could ever ascertain,
    I know so much more, of truth’s revelation I feel I have to refrain,
    to not heed nor allow another intrinsic, curious look.

    I know of him intimately, referencing not the physical sense, no,
    but more in the manner of what his spirit longs for,
    the tunes of his heart and soul,
    the innate values disguised beneath a metamorphic
    view of kaleidoscopic arrangement,
    the colour scheme as bright as day,
    as least to me,
    this is what I’ll dare say.

    To the public, he is but a member of society
    who skulks about with the most nondescript of ease,
    but to me, I know the internal rhythmics of his energies,
    and deep within, I know there is something to treasure,
    something which needs the space to breathe.
    A reasoning, a soft-hued timbre, a melody of parched sorts
    calling for just that little bit of extra personal energy,
    a tending to, like a sunflower that struggles with his innate ability
    to rise forth, just needing some encouragement,
    I would guide if I felt it right, if this were meant to be.

    But somehow, maybe that path has been long-trodden,
    and feelings surfaced should really, perhaps, be forgotten,
    I do not know whether nurturing something lost
    that’s resurfacing should be nursed back to life again,
    but all I know, I know, is his soul is sky-blue,
    the sky-blue of an innocent heaven.
    Shall I dance and delve into this shade again?

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Wanderer – 12/09/21

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  • Poem: Wanderer – 12/09/21

    Poem: Wanderer – 12/09/21

    Open arms found in this wide world of mine,
    delicately and excitedly they’ve welcomed me in.
    I’m thankful for the support, friendship, and more,
    each morning or evening, my comrades’ words I can explore.
    Their thoughts, laid upon the screen, bright, blinking,
    I take them in,
    ascertaining deeper meaning, truth-seeking,
    prisms of depth and reasoning,
    wondrous intentions blossoming.

    There may be others lurking with disinterest,
    or malice planned, or already committed,
    but these types of soldiers are unworthy of connection,
    for loving souls, I am already surrounded by them,
    they lift me up, they carry me with strong arms,
    watch over with careful eyes,
    speak with wise words,
    and tumbling aside from the noises,
    the unwanted sounds all around,
    until I am away with my party of many,
    wondrous precious crowd,
    only positivity is allowed.  

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Thy Inner Truths – 11/09/21

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  • Poem: Thy Inner Truths – 11/09/21

    Poem: Thy Inner Truths – 11/09/21

    Awakening thy inner truths,
    beauty present,
    spiritual proof,
    the internal reservoirs of light,
    make infinite truth anything but a plight.

    Causes within and visions yours,
    counteract the substance of irrelevant facts,
    cast forth through the shrouded clouds,
    airy mysteries,
    intelligence, wonder, determining that which
    we seek.

    What is before my very eyes
    is circumstance, crimson red,
    but unfaltering yet,
    a bold vivid view for my heart
    to contemplate upon,
    run from the pastels, into the beat
    of another’s drum.

    And here will the rhythmic data align,
    linear,
    rich cobalt, emeralds too,
    enriched with understanding of linked truths,
    brighten the mindset, for I know what to do.

    I shall not carry on with anything but
    positive intent,
    bringing down the deceit and decimation
    disingenuous song spent,
    for deep inside I hear a calling,
    the sparkling of my morning,
    a yearning, a hoping,
    a certain reverent knowing.

    Trust not the tide of others’ wisdoms
    but find that of your own,
    I have searched high and low and I’m still
    learning how to trust, and love,
    and when push comes to an
    irreverent shove,
    and a playful side is shown,
    I will counteract that airy, floaty substance with
    something more like my own.

    My spirit, it will shine,
    it will take on the strength of truths imbued,
    I will be able to be read like a book,
    but in terms of knowledge, it is a wanted view.
    I know that delving into one’s psyche
    is not always preferable for him, nor she,
    whomever these people prove to be,

    but, I dare to explore,
    I dare to unwind,
    the visions, the moments,
    the arcs and spikes in my mind,
    until I become better in myself,
    analysis, truth be told,
    is better with maturity,
    one of the perks of growing old.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Particular Reason – 11/09/21

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  • Poem: Particular Reason – 11/09/21

    Poem: Particular Reason – 11/09/21

    Are you caught in the past,
    or occupied in the future?
    One needs to exist in the present moment,
    become your personal teacher,
    for in this state of being you will learn
    something inherently deeper
    than the quiet understanding already grasped;
    one needs not their own preacher.

    Existing as an individual,
    not one of a pair, simple two,
    becoming stronger with every moment,
    wiping away past assertions of “truth”,
    for this notion, this validity you are searching for,
    tell yourself there’s more to life
    than being attached, feeling gleans,
    independence is what should be seen,
    mutual connection perhaps a future must,
    irreverent, irreverent light streams.

    But trust is the catalysis that makes this
    formula relevant,
    what exceptions should there be to behold
    should irrelevancies be logged,
    shown, told,
    let us not acknowledge the voice of a particular reason,
    there is momentum in the smoking gun,
    of amazingly righteous treason.

    Perhaps personal betrayal means nothing to them.
    Let us relish the inevitable dealing of karmic retribution.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Blessed Scene – 14/09/21

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  • Poem: Blessed Scene – 10/09/21

    Poem: Blessed Scene – 10/09/21

    The garden’s greenery embraces me,
    wonder seen, euphoria breathed,
    chest heaving, visions to believe in,
    bountiful Earth entities, flickering leaves, reaching twigs,
    encroaching branches,
    to my life, they have been given.

    I marvel at the sights all around,
    the gentle wisp of accompanying windy sounds,
    the soft gusts here and there
    which spread subtle fragrance in the air,
    it is without a care that I exist in this land,
    sitting in my stained oak outside chair,
    and wondering to myself,
    what did I do to deserve this,
    sights and sounds,
    perfection everywhere?

    The twittering of distant birds,
    and soft automobile travels,
    off for a lark?
    Unlikely, in this world climate,
    but still we live to have a laugh,
    or at least smile, appreciating Nature’s
    work of art,
    knowingly or unknowingly,
    I will continue to exist within this breeze
    of intent,
    goddess or gods’ efforts well spent,
    as they bluster now,
    heavier, more breeze,
    but effervescent, it’s as though bubbles of brightness
    are purposeful, here, and well-meant.

    I relax back now,
    adoring the visions some more,
    brightness shines in my eyes,
    greenery and hues of natural rainbows,
    even artificial hues do not bore,
    colour schemes and blustering trees,
    whistling, wonder what’s transported in spirit
    between those leaves?
    Blessed am I indeed
    to have this scene all for me.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: For The Rain – 08/09/21

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  • Poem: For the Rain – 08/09/21

    Poem: For the Rain – 08/09/21

    I pray for our future,
    I pray for the rain,
    the scent upon our once-dry shoulders
    smouldering us,
    yet from angry cloud formations
    we edge away in vain,
    but because we are prone,
    prone to the stares of youth,
    we smile, and we grin to ourselves
    for we know the whole truth.

    The motley group stands and witnesses
    as we dance ourselves silly
    in the pelting rain
    and howling breeze,
    no longer encumbered by past holdings of
    circumstance and desire to cower,
    wind whistles between gapped thighs and knees,
    this is our rain dance,
    feel the shower.

    Our power lies within our ability
    to receive,
    from God’s land we will cherish
    what has been given to us,
    indeed
    we will accumulate the raindrops,
    water stores
    they drench us,
    replenish us,
    we grin and cackle together,
    so much joy,
    so much, galore,
    so much more in store.

    The youth stand and stare;
    they do not understand,
    how we, as old souls are apparently
    going mad,
    but we are embracing all that is
    being given to us,
    Nature in her surety is paddling her wings
    among the skyward lake for us,
    you see.

    So, darlings, my youthful obstructions,
    you wonderful beings who cannot understand
    our appreciative actions,
    wonder not at our ability to shine,
    amid the turbulent wind pattern and rain,
    but rather watch us embrace all that Mother Nature is willing to give,
    she provides to us,
    she cleanses us,
    cleanses me,
    we are amazed.

    This feeling is one in which
    I love to revel in,
    we shall continue appreciating for many
    forthcoming days.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Sentiments – 07/09/21
    Previous Post: Fashionable Undertakings – 06/09/21

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  • Poem: Sentiments – 07/09/21

    Poem: Sentiments – 07/09/21

    A tirade inside
    flows with voluptuous sentiment
    from the lips of one
    blue in the face,
    feelings of entitlement,
    the inability to quieten down the torment,
    or seemingly distract oneself from something
    deep within, and dormant.

    Treasure not those memories,
    incorrectly saved,
    interpreted experiences disgust for
    another day,
    allow the truths to come forth,
    blatant, flooding like a river,
    still,
    discomfort at knowing
    that there was something awry,
    rest upon the windowsill,
    glance away at the wanton Moon.

    The voices within the soul,
    reside in the mind of cracked cranium,
    a wonder that the bravery is not part of them,
    displayed with justice, observed with hope,
    their pathway can be traipsed around all
    one likes,
    but without intention what is the point
    in delving into the complexities of things,
    of their mind,
    when there’s nothing positive or learned to see?

    Diatribes now,
    deranged, delinquency,
    causing curses upon everyone close to me,
    me? Where do I come in the journey,
    I’ve not been ropable for a while,
    until now, until this very moment,
    I will dismount my stallion, golden horse,
    and wipe away the negatives, the undesirable durations,
    others’ sad inability to change.

    I will converge, I will create, I will continue
    to rid this world of hate,
    for what is done when I’ve performed my will?
    What shall we be left with?
    For services, please apply through the mail.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Fashionable Undertakings – 06/09/21

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  • Poem: Fashionable Undertakings – 06/09/21

    Poem: Fashionable Undertakings – 06/09/21

    My confidence in self-expression,
    I don’t care for looks of derision,
    curious undertakings,
    the strangers I sometimes catch glancing,
    I wear my big heavy boots with pride,
    wear dark makeup all I like,
    I dress how I want without hindrance,
    it may seem to others a small decision.

    But I am being bold, letting my choices
    break the mould,
    I don’t care for judgements or disapproval,
    my approval is the only type I need to view.
    Being confident in myself used to be much of
    a chore,
    for I dressed, presented in ways
    that called for attention, of other’s approval
    I did implore.

    Nowadays, I please myself, yearning I am not
    to be noticed and accepted for someone that I
    really was not,
    no longer clothed in garb that screamed for their eyes,
    bare naked skin,
    exposed legs, soft thighs.
    I walk the streets and shops in elaborate heavy boots,
    shiny accessories,
    caring not for looks of affection,
    I express in my own style,
    it may glean attention,
    but it’s not doing so
    for the most incorrect of reasons.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: The Message, Unheard – 06/09/21

    Previous Post: Beautiful Soul Knowledge – 04/09/21

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  • Micropoetry: Visions and Proof – 06/09/21

    Micropoetry: Visions and Proof – 06/09/21

    pray for the wisdom,
    for the strength to view the truth,
    now what’s here before your eyes
    and really is ultimately sheer proof,
    an enlightening of visions within the soul,
    reflected in our orbs’ mirrors,
    feel the heartbeats within me,
    wouldn’t you, didn’t you know?
    understanding that we all
    have tales,
    winding, rivers of secrecy
    and shires to explore?
    but these are to no avail.
    sometimes they’re better left untouched,
    unasked,
    unexplored,
    allow the breaths of yesteryears
    remain quietened,
    if they happen to speak?
    best they’re ignored.
    we all benefit from personal growth
    and mistakes if we treat them well,
    didn’t you already know?

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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  • Prose: The Message, Unheard – 06/09/21

    Prose: The Message, Unheard – 06/09/21

    Words unfold upon my screen, toppling, clamouring over themselves, fighting to be seen.
    I’m important,
    no, my message is of the utmost importance,
    let me be heard,
    while the most relevant one relaxes away, folded arms.

    Its words are the most likely to go unnoticed; its is the voice of reason, the truth you don’t want to see, but it lingers, to the side, presence important, but not impinging. Just there, whiling away time, until you become most aware.

    It is the truth that, once realised, you wish to deny, for accepting it, and following through with action will only lead to temporary suffering, and really, who wants this now? Who needs pain, even if it only lasts for a version of ‘now’? But what I must come to terms with, is that the behaviours I’m experiencing, being exposed to, are exceedingly on repeat, with only mere weeks of interlude. The same insistent melody cranking in strange intonations that ultimately are the same cacophony. And can I live with this pattern my entire life, should I endure the same tired push?

    The Message smirks at me from the side, its curled upper lip making me uncomfortable, wanting to run and hide, for if I squirm away now, I can ignore the obvious path ahead, and I won’t need to encounter it. I can deal with excuses, revelations away from the Message’s thread. Then I won’t need to lie in bed pondering how the future will be, if I take this step, make this step, because I haven’t been able to cease that cacophony. The melody, discordant though relevant, which made me feel good, but in the end, was only for another end to be achieved.

    And I know this, knew this, always can see, but receive with casual measures, never openly giving in return because, I don’t play games of affection, with insistent interjection, impinging on one’s direction, I need to cease the received indelicate actions. Is it time to finally learn? That there is no improvement, no learning from my words. There is no ceasing of expectation, lingering there, the Message needs to be heard. I pull my socks high, place my feet into my boots, stridently meet the Message, face its obvious truths. I lean in to one side, allow it to whisper its keen observations. With pride, it straightens its back, chest thrown forward, it has been heard, has been acknowledged, that is a fact. My expression, stunned, I have been made aware of what to do. Whether I choose to use its knowledge or not, is up to me to choose…
     
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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