Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: #amwriting

  • Prose: Freedom – 29/05/21

    Prose: Freedom – 29/05/21

    I trust the magic will imbue, with my soul it will carry me through, into the Great Unknown, where hands and eyes await a certain prize, something to peruse, some agent to get high, to ride on euphoria – these days, it’s time, karmic balance, get paid.

    Their surrounding palms reach and reach; through a black hole, they rise forth, making some regret wanting to live, and those eyes, beady, uninterrupted, staring orbs, they could never placate disaster, never cause a broken heart to mend, to become less torn.

    They live to receive; to take from me, each piece of my puzzle which I had placed hesitantly, and then so deftly, will now be taken away from their family, their home, because of spiteful eyes and appendages of others, gone rogue and free.

    But, I am joyful, because unlike these hands, unlike these eyes, I can dance, away and aware, for I am coursing with power, I am alive. Escape is not an option, it is the only way, the only path, my decision, my freedom can never be taken or bought, only given away, or treasured and retained.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Jewels of Thought’ – 29/05/21

    Previous Post: ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ – 28/05/21

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  • Prose: Jewels of Thought – 29/05/21

    Prose: Jewels of Thought – 29/05/21

    The jewels of thought glimmer as the trove presents its offering. Sparkling, lustrous, scintillating, these contemplations are part of more than bearings of either king or queen. These are not controlled by royalty: they are presently waiting, awaiting new processes, though their method of glimmering is surprisingly passive; they lay there, waiting to be selected by us.

    The jewels, jewels of thought have one true source – a master thinker, a genius, a contemplative-conjurer, who has fashioned these offerings for everybody from spicks and specks of this and that, everything, and blocks of thoughts are honoured before selection shall be made tentatively, then bravely, then freely.

    Can we not form our own thoughts? Let intuition speak to you and myself, that gut feeling, third-eye instinct? Though, sometimes it’s comfortable to have a guider, a leader, to see.

    The wonder we feel in the moment when we receive this gift, a single, procured gift-wrapped thought, suddenly deemed so precious you don’t even want to undo the ribbon’s bow now.

    So, you sit with it, hold onto it, cherish this gilded box with a single cherished thought. You know not what it is, whether ignition, calm or cataclysmic indeed, you accept your inner self is enough – the gifted thought is unnecessary, only novelty, its newness will not outlast.

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

    Previous Post: ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ – 28/05/21

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  • Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    In the darkness, I hear a groan. A guttural cry then, of sorts, rises from the gloom. Startled, I jump, not knowing which way to reach or turn, how to, can I even assist? From the past, when will I learn?

    A being is sprawled upon the uneven ground, I only perceive their form after my eyes adjust to the darkness, now revealed as subtle monochromes. With an outstretched arm, the being drags themselves forward, one hand pulls, then the other, and I can’t tell if male or female without difficulty. All that matters is that they are in obvious distress, how can I enable their comfort? How can I make their internal pain less? With a shriek, they shudder, a prolonged fit, then, no movement for an age, as though in some form of forced coma, then eyes wide open – they’ve come to! And their expression, sheer horror, why I’m the one who now shudders.

    A supernatural state clouds their eyes, and a dreamy smile purses their lips – who possesses their spirit? It’s difficult for me to decide. But I am fearful of this figure who shrieks and wails, for they seem unnatural, not of this world, something awry has dragged their spirit or soul through a type of anguishing hell. It seems beyond me to assist, I do not know how to clear their internal pain, in vain, in vain, I feel helpless, tell myself I must walk away. They seem beyond repairing; somehow they must do it on their own, I am not strong enough. Surely for another saviour they must call, I hope for them, the bell shall not toll.

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

    Previous Post: ‘A Foretelling Sense of Importance’ – 27/05/21

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  • Prose: A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen – 26/05/21

    Prose: A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen – 26/05/21

    There’s a gentle humming surrounding my being, as though I’m reverberating from the inside-out. Something warm and prominent spreads out to my border, my aura, and there’s no ill feeling, nor any sign of doubt. Every inch of flesh breathes shudders with gentle flow, reminding me I’m living and breathing and, with connectedness to a higher source, my energy resonates and grows.

    Feeling at one with nature, with a higher power, with the Universe, enlivens this once world-weary being – growth, new life, refreshening, was a process. A method through madness, through lost will, through journeys untold, which dragged me down, and further still, until I made the decision to respect myself, my life, to be grateful and follow a process of knowing who I could become through determination, sheer power and will.

    I no longer meander; I can hold my head high, having direction feels glorious in this life. I chose, I made the decision to surround myself with those who will build themselves up, not tear myself down; I need to travel with those who want to help themselves or at least receive assistance to learn to care for and develop themselves.  My capabilities are used to live and improve, but if outstretching a hand temporarily to others means being a guiding support, I’ll offer it to be held, but I cannot promise to be a crutch, or the solution to something I’m not obliged to solve. With resolution, I will endeavour to be understanding and present, but sometimes Life calls for separation and dissolution, through power of common sense, dignity, and free will.

    Bury the hatchet, disguise concealed intents, this world requires us to co-exist with love, praise, and harmony, but I must retain the right to still be treated with respect. There is no space in my world for words of heightening degrees, heated blame to vent, not calmly speak, these will no longer constrict me, to the horizon’s beauty my eyes will focus, opportunity for continued happiness which I have chosen and undertaken as my decree.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo courtesy of Pexels.

    Previous Post: ‘Bouncing Back to Clarity’ – 25/05/21

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  • Prose: Dawning Realisation – 24/05/21

    Prose: Dawning Realisation – 24/05/21

    The penny dropped and I finally understood – what it means to live life to the full. It doesn’t mean to be a daredevil, to jump out of a plane, to rush alongside a mountain, seeking adrenalin in vain. It means to seize every opportunity, to live life with joy and exuberance each day, taking in the wonder, exploring while you absorb, bask in the moments, or simply sit and ponder, or pray.

    To experience all there is to receive is some kind of bliss, opening up ourselves, warm-heartedly, arms flung open, to receive Life’s kiss, and wonder not at the circumstances which may present negatively – these are only experiments provided to test ye.

    Highs cannot exist without comparative lows; if there weren’t, we’d just be floating, aimlessly treading water, without an undertow. What I am saying is we need to approach Life with much welcoming, stepping into the unknown and beginning to – fresh air – breathe freely and experience wholeheartedly and knowingly.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Bells Will Chime’ – 23/05/21

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  • Prose: Bells Will Chime – 23/05/21

    Prose: Bells Will Chime – 23/05/21

    All the bells in the world could not aptly signal your arrival. Announcing your presence, your appearance should be heralded with angels, voices forever forthcoming, and the beauty in your eyes, blue buttons, will always precede that glimmering, shining smile which sends dances of delight in my heart to occur, and sparkle within my own eyes.

    Flights of light fancy chime through my soul as I ask myself – is this the beginning of a future forever told? An amazing sunset in the distance reminds me that ebbs and flows are set and when this occurs, our spirits will dance so lively, effervescent and ultimately together and ours.

    Your smile delights and encompasses my heart, sends pleasant chills, a sign you may be a true counterpart, there’s nothing alien about this – this firm sense of bliss, come hither, come closer, upon my cheek, lay a gentle kiss.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Pana Kutlumpasis from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘The Fool’ – 22/05/21

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  • Poem: The Fool – 22/05/21

    Poem: The Fool – 22/05/21

    Why is it true that
    I should pity the fool?
    Why can’t I watch Jester
    begrudgingly dance?

    His intention to amuse
    is something pure,
    or at least it is
    from a certain stance.

    He lives his life
    as a purposeful joke,
    take him seriously?

    No, that’s something
    we best comprehend,
    something we need to know.

    No matter his desire,
    his role and sense of
    greatness will not grow,
    he’s part of a social structure,
    a circumstance,

    and because society views him
    as a source of humour only,
    how can he ever be
    taken seriously?

    He knows, he knows
    his role, his place
    is to present to the king,
    a man so amazing,
    to hold the presence of
    such a man,
    why some would be envious,
    but others, not give
    a damn,
    authority to them
    does not impress,
    to royalty they’re impervious.

    But to hold court
    with the Crown,
    not as an equal,
    but as a joke,
    as amusement,
    meant that ego had to be
    overthrown,

    to be known as a fool
    when there’s so much
    within the mind,
    behind that frozen expression
    upon his face,
    his presence, his being,
    truly, foolishly,
    gone to complete waste.  

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

    Previous Post: ‘Alignment’ – 21/05/21

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  • Poem: Alignment – 21/05/21

    Poem: Alignment – 21/05/21

    In alignment with understanding,
    alignment with fresh truths,
    no stale visions or ideas,
    no biting coldness,
    there is only Winter’s
    artificial warmth,
    flowing and growing,
    hearts drift and imbue.

    The source of ideas
    shows presence,
    an historical strength
    of mind and character,
    bitter interior rooms
    need no envisioning,
    intention, brightness,
    shining through the
    murk so soon.

    Focusing on firm understandings
    and even when on shaky ground,
    to be open and available at
    every moment
    surely cannot permit eternal growth.

    Learning from a situation,
    protective harmony,
    dissertation,
    expanding awareness while
    being conscious of reality,
    it’s truly important
    for intentions to be
    set and to be seen.

    Being aware of what
    can be dedicated to,
    who, what, where, why,
    being aware of how
    moods work in dark
    then effervescent ways,
    supporting,
    being supported,
    then needing to breathe
    fresh air,
    a new space,
    extracted,
    self-instated to another place.

    There is freedom residing in
    the atmosphere,
    rising higher and higher
    like wise, airy intentions,
    fly away,
    becoming more,
    there is less drag upon the wind,
    Life has proven there’s so much
    to align with,
    so much there is in store.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Spells and Magic’ – 20/05/21

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  • Prose: Cherished – 19/05/21

    Prose: Cherished – 19/05/21

    A special meaning is encompassed by me today. I could sit and weep, allow my day to decay. I could jump up and dance, a public cover-up, a farce, but I’ll do neither of these upon this sun-shining morning in May.

    Instead, I will thread myself together, sewn and stitched, with determination, insistence, for me, repair isn’t a bother. Over time, each thread has painfully entered through, needle to skin, insertion of freshly-wound cotton, much to some’s chagrin. I am whole now, no dangling pieces, after years of floundering, I’m becoming daisies and roses, blooming to see, scented, delicate petals to touch. A figure made human, adorned with hearts and trust.

    This figure’s flowerbed is smaller now, visitors and residents are fewer, but still, in delicate rows, and they’re all admired and admirable, intricate and wonderful, each petal to unfurl, their own histories to tell.

    Within this garden, in this land on the property of a safe house, we are all gathered here today, some mended from brokenness, others in the midst of sad decay. These latter we cannot help but keep company as they slowly bend their heads and weep, today is their time for demise, but in this company, kind and true, they wouldn’t have their exit any other way.

    And from the dying petals, which should be preserved while scattered, by sheets of ornate glass, their colours will join with the earth, create food, life for others. Goodbye is not always despairing when they’ve been cherished in many ways. Goodbye can be a new way of voicing a fresh beginning, from the decay arises freshness, an opportunity for new life to shine and remain.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘I Will Not Write About Love’ – 18/05/21

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  • Poem: I Will Not Write About Love – 18/05/21

    Poem: I Will Not Write About Love – 18/05/21

    I will not write about love
    for I am not in it –
    surely, yes, I have
    experienced it,

    but as though an introductory,
    sweeping strum of a harp,
    I won’t allow myself to fall
    into a moment,
    until it is right to do so;

    I’m like an anacrusis awaiting that
    conductor’s sign,
    the downbeat for the melody to start.

    Tiresome, yes?
    Am I waiting, awaiting?
    Will time cause me to fall apart? –

    I’m not yielding to an urge,
    I am not capitulating,
    I have no requirements to search for affection,
    why put myself in the way of
    judgement and expectations?
     
    Dejection, rejection?
    No, I do not fear these,
    but for some,
    they’re surely breaking the ability
    for true connections,
    halting their ability to reach out
    with ease.

    Here, I sit on the fence,
    staring down,
    undecided yet,
    and I know I won’t allow myself
    to fall,
    until it is right to do so again,

    I don’t need the sweetness of
    words from either a woman or a man,
    don’t need the positive growth that
    an alliance could provide, would or can,

    I am loving my life the way it is,
    I won’t be swayed by society’s requirements
    that I must couple up to be.

    Perpetually existing,
    do they think I have no end in sight?
    While I live and I learn,
    do they think my early evenings translate to
    quiet depressive nights?
     
    That being single means bunkering down
    unsatisfied, until the morning light,
    where I can receive my endorphins through
    pounding the pavement,
    where satisfaction and happiness
    are experienced again,
    they are within grasp,
    within sight.

    I don’t need love to be whole,
    don’t need it to feel ‘right’,
    I can exist by myself,
    being independent is no longer a plight,

    to be alone can be bliss,
    I’ll take the peaceful solitude
    as it is,
    and so I’ll continue to grow,
    and fastidiously enjoy all that life brings.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Speaking with sweetness’ – 17/05/21

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