Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Author: Lauren M. Hancock

  • Poem: Sweet Dandelion – 06/09/20

    Poem: Sweet Dandelion – 06/09/20

    I shall pick you up, sweet Dandelion,
your head is puffed and bursting with seeds,
ready to be shared with the world,
yet somehow removed from your unseen stalk with great speed.
 
You lie here, pristine as can be,
quietly admired by myself,
and I can see your beauty as you present yourself
without any sense of impropriety or
desire to break apart if the wind shall
determine you must leave.
 
But no, I shall save you!
Save you from a rolling fate,
of bumbling about in the wind,
I shall take you away with me,
away!
 
And will I cherish thee?
Will I treasure your presence close to my heart?
I realise you were born to make wishes,
and that your form must be carefully torn apart.
 
You are too hardy to be brought apart by my breath,
you are too strong to be separated by the wind
which I felt would cause you some duress,
no, I will separate your spores with my strong fingertips
and send them on their way to make more dandelions,
more, more, more,
bliss.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image my own.

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  • Poem: Power of Words – 05/08/20

    Poem: Power of Words – 05/08/20

    You exist because you can,
you perpetuate your meaning because you will,
you know that to be is to cause problems
to those who wish upon you only ill.
 
Time is ticking for you, my dear,
there are many positive things which could be extracted,
but instead you realise only the darkness and poison,
you draw them out from you,
inept, you feel.
 
Some patterns are full of thrill,
and some patterns are hard to kill.
 
For the role you are undertaking,
it is one of change,
it is one of danger,
you intended to take a different path,
and now you’re mocked for this,
 
scorned for this,
in a dream, you are made to be the one
they laugh at,
because you are in your thirties and
changing your direction at last.
 
The mocking laughter pins into your flesh,
biting in the meat, causing prickles,
pain and suffering, no less,
and the direct gaze of their judgemental eyes
is wearing you down,
you simply wanted to move forward,
to leave behind what had long ago been sown.
 
And now you stay back to confront the culprit,
this is something you’d never have done,
to fight authority's bullets with verbal bullets of your own,
why, for this you deserve your own small throne.
 
And the irony is that when you do speak,
he rushes off,
pretending to do something
and never returns,
now here you have learned,
the power of words, my sweet darling,
the power within your words.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Never Letting Go – 03/09/20

    Poem: Never Letting Go – 03/09/20

    Darling, do I make you smile?
Darling, do I wipe away trials?
And darling, do you – rest assured – realise
that you possess my bloodied heart entirely,
no pieces left for you to view or meld?

I’ve reached within and grabbed it,
quick as can be,
my heart pulsating, living,
it’s grotesque,
nothing like the picturesque scenes you’ve seen,
 
but I am enthralled with
the delicate nature of my soft organ,
it causes you to smile,
and wouldn’t you know this?
I am here and living and still you clutch me,
so exactly, so evenly, so well.
 
Unlike others, who will let me go,
you fiercely grasp with a fervour I’ve never known,
the stability I’ve long sought,
the ability to live without being concerned,
my future is not in tatters,
in fact, it’s flourishing,
along with the blooms of many others.
 
Someone once claimed to know to what I
wanted in life with them,
I never knew their/our answer
because I interjected with my own,
and I am certain that our answers would not have matched,
there would have been much to cancel and fix,
not complicated,
just looking for someone who understood each breath and word
that I'd breathe alone.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Nakota Wagner on Unsplash

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  • Poem: A Blessed Outing – 03/09/20

    Poem: A Blessed Outing – 03/09/20

    The sun is shining on my face,
it’s glary but I don’t mind.
It’s nice to be outside of the house,
away from the fortress that’s kept me safe
over time.

I have ventured out for specifics,
I am here after the fact,
being here is not especially dangerous,
I’m simply sitting here in the car,
waiting for her return,
and it’s nice to be outside
of the house that we call home,
temporary freedom,
this is a blessed fact.

I watch people leave their cars tentatively,
head towards the supermarket doors,
I watch others wheel their trolleys to the cars triumphantly,
as if this is their one day out amongst many.

And here she is,
carrying a bag of goodies
and two punnets of treats,
she’s had her outing, too,
and for the chance for independence I can tell she’s pleased,
after being specifically cooped up for her safety,
there are more facts to this story that I won’t 
allow to be gleaned,

we have relished these minutes outside
and aren’t we so grateful,
these times have changed how the world and 
experiences are felt, and seen.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Languishing – 02/09/20

    Poem: Languishing – 02/09/20

    I tell myself
that everything will be okay,
but I languish in bed for hours.
I lie here, my consciousness aching away,
my stomach anxious as I wonder
not what the distant future will bring,
but the next minute, next seconds, next hours.

I do not know how to deal with this despair,
I practiced positivity these last days without a care,
but what’s settling in is this irrevocable gloom,
of unknowing, what will come,
or whether things will change at all soon.

It’s like looking up the steepest hill,
some would think, “Keep going” and keep aiming for the summit,
but I, I am exhausted,
and I’ve barely performed any exertion,
but mentally,
inside, it’s a circus.

These times are trying for many,
and I know this,
I’m not selfish for how I’m feeling,
and I understand that others are suffering,
perhaps I could reach out a hand,
then I remember we’re discouraged from this,
I must keep my distance,
but wait,
I’m already doing this.

These four walls which once seemed like luxury,
a newly-developed introvert’s home
are caving in on me,
I want to disappear,
but then it seems from the outside world
I’ve already achieved this.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Stutter – 02/09/20

    Poem: Stutter – 02/09/20

    I stutter out what I want from you,
my anger causes me to shake,
I’ve never been this rowdy before,
my confidence piques -
before I know it, I’ll inadvertently break.
 
What is it about you
and this situation that causes me to uncontrollably squirm?
I can only tell you partial truths of the circumstance,
I cannot allow you to wholly learn.
 
For the truth is more than simplicity,
more than duplicity,
more than duality,
more than contextualisation.
 
To put it simply, I must breathe out
every single speckle of you
because I cannot have the world learn
that you’ve taken over me,
truth be told,
no more,
never,
not again,
the chance of this happening again?
None.
 
The sound of a lonesome wren.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Starry Eyed – 01/09/20

    Poem: Starry Eyed – 01/09/20

    They couldn’t help it,
they had stars in their eyes.
Bright burst of fireworks encapsulated in their sights,
little pin drops of explosions,
one by one they shine and shone,
filling their beings with life and fire,
delighting themselves,
fear, they had none.
 
What is it about confidence that oozes delectability?
And what is it about inner strength that speaks to not only them,
but me?
Because, I, as narrator of this tale,
I am also here to be affected,
lights and sounds within my view and ears,
can I share this, can I tell?
 
I am not the only one with stars in my eyes,
when I look at the those before me,
those who succeeded in their own style,
and the others who admire,
who view this situation for what it is,
entirely pleased be they,
it is involuntary.
 
Stars in our eyes,
this I’ll admit,
when I’m looking at us,
looking at it,
success is not an option,
success is the only way,
the ironic moment comes when I realise
I’ve been staring in the mirror with the others,
together,
the whole time, always.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Escape to a Land of Slumber – 31/08/20

    Poem: Escape to a Land of Slumber – 31/08/20

    I escape into a land of slumber,
where I softly achieve my goal,
to forget and feel nothing,
I am enveloped by reaching fingertips of
diamonds and solid gold.
 
They caress me with a richness
I’ve never known,
toy with me,
play with me,
these dancing hands I feel not,
though within them, I am at home.
 
I am deep in rest,
my back the fingers stroke,
and they play with my hair,
this escape is full of my hope,
because while I’m away in mind,
I am here and now,
though some would say my consciousness is not.
 
I relish these afternoon escapes,
the siestas which take me away
to a feeling of nothingness,
of wanted emptiness,
nothing here is awry,
nothing is astray.
 
And close to waking I experience
the most amazing thing,
I rouse slowly and recollect
remnants of a dream,
someone perhaps who I have missed
without realising?
Or perhaps I simply am recalling them fondly.
 
I rarely remember my dreams,
and when I do,
the fragment slips from memory,
perhaps the dream was a message,
or something else –
I nod knowingly –
maybe revelations will unfold naturally.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

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  • Poem: Eclipsed – 30/08/20

    Poem: Eclipsed – 30/08/20

    You eclipsed yourself onto my heart,
etched yourself amongst Sun and stars,
a silhouette of burnished red and brown,
a luminescent glow of you all around.
 
Your pattern, your shape,
my mind recalls,
the beauty of your face,
your expression,
I’m in thrall,
and I remember the smiles we shared,
so many days and nights together,
I am basking in the memory of your glow,
ghostly light upon me thrown,
alabaster shine upon us both.
 
Hand in hand,
you took me into your view,
fingertips laced together,
we shone, reflections of youth,
and together we created an energy unseen
by the lower land,
eclipsing my heart as you
tightly grasped my hand.
 
What will happen, dear,
when we must part?
The irreconcilable moment when
hand leaves hand,
and hearts extract entwined valves
from each other,
for one must depart.
 
I know this time will come and to it,
I revolt, as I say,
I wish I could stay in your presence,
please don’t desert me,
please remain.
 
I cannot do this on my own,
I imagine myself sadly call,
I’ll gaze into your light,
continue to further fall, 
fall further, and fall into the night.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

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  • Poem: My Body is a River – 30/08/20

    Poem: My Body is a River – 30/08/20

    My body is a river,
I rush over you,
soothing as a salve or balm,
running over your pebbles,
smoothing their jagged forms.
 
My delicate hands dance,
my currents rise and fall,
to you,
my body is a river,
with my flow
I can cure you of all.
 
Aching, yearning,
pain which must be departing,
despairing,
depression,
lonely,
to cleanse you of these is my calling.
 
So, my liquid licks and laps
against your shore,
the in-between where
hunger and pain are raw,
unknown, a certain calling,
your fingers reach for me,
I flush you with calm respite,
truthful news,
release from your gloom.
 
You no longer suffer,
you are brave
for having survived your internal ravaging,
but because my body is a river,
you were permitted this vital saving.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Jessica Furtney on Unsplash

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