Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: amwriting

  • Poem: Bouncing Back to Clarity – 25/05/21

    Poem: Bouncing Back to Clarity – 25/05/21

    Bouncing back to clarity,
    what’s right and honest for me,
    unselfishly considering myself,
    what works for my life,
    not putting myself behind others,
    not lingering in potential
    or future strife.

    To feel connectedness to others,
    the warmth of electric energy,
    be careful of some connections,
    electrifying can become
    dangerous indeed.

    Set some boundaries,
    don’t allow any to
    overstep the line,
    it’s what I am
    comfortable with,
    can’t allow anxiety to
    grow with time.

    Don’t allow others to meld,
    view situations for
    what they are,
    transparency is important
    to maintain,
    even from afar.

    And knowing, being aware
    of the next step there is
    to take,
    perhaps there will
    be loss,
    maybe it’s required
    for Heaven’s sake,

    perhaps the road here
    has come to an end,
    now for a detour,
    only so many times words can be
    retracted or unmeant.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by David Mark from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Dawning Realisation’ – 24/05/21

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  • Prose: Spells and Magic – 20/05/21

    Prose: Spells and Magic – 20/05/21

    Spells and magic occur each and every day. It’s up to us whether we perceive them, or whether they go unnoticed – like glitter, they can fall before us, bright and vivid speckles falling where they may.

    A spell can touch the very tip of a nose and cause a sudden smile; one might not know why, how or when, but joy is flooding their insides again. Like a stork bringing an infant to the stoop, magic delivers us happiness and wonder – in order for emotions to converge, does a stork need to be truth? Can we not accept the notion and dream, of a desired, oft-prayed for delivery, as wholesome, contented proof?

    Spells, spells, spells, they’re all around, delivered from up above, and reverberation with insistence from down-below. A sorcerer never reveals the source of their conjuring, but ultimately though, they should project positive intentions onto us knowingly. A wand can lithely dance in patterns, held by a skilled hand, one gesture and a wish has been made at the wielder’s command.

    But what about ‘everyday magic’? Or the lyrical words and images of writers and poets? Or artists’ imagery and feelings splashed onto cardboard, paper and canvas? Or children’s peals of laughter, the licking of a cheek from a puppy-dog’s tongue, the social inclusion which makes one feel a part of a whole as fellow sports supporters join in song. The shivers, the goosebumps on one’s arms as something amazing is heard, digested, or watched, the assurance felt when one clasps hands with someone they truly love.

    All here is real magic, drifting from my pen, surely many more instances can be detailed, and I won’t need to repeat any tales of already-expended magic, for they’ll be so much for you to all presently share from your own pens.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Cherished’ – 19/05/21

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  • Poem: Speaking with sweetness – 17/05/21

    Poem: Speaking with sweetness – 17/05/21

    The areas surrounding my bones
    are brittle
    like honeycomb,
    they’re soft and sweet,
    but filled with purpose,
    slowly voiding themselves
    of madness,
    hush, hush,
    it’s quiet here,
    my sweet.

    I do not cry out
    to be tasted,
    purpose, like musculature,
    grows with effort,
    no longer wasted,

    intentions flowing and
    intentions pure,
    vestibules explored,
    tried and tested,
    hexagonal spaces each are houses,
    they’re warm homes,
    Honey, honey?
    Sure,
    over my shoulder the reply is thrown.

    I speak in riddles
    to satisfy an urge,
    presenting unknowns,
    concepts,
    linked could they be?
    Perhaps, perhaps not,
    are they unheard?

    As I travel through
    the pathways,
    sweetened with honey, syrupy goodness,
    maybe learning from the past
    is right,
    many lessons have already been learnt.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Learning to be Content’ – 16/05/21

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  • Prose: Learning to be Content – 16/05/21

    Prose: Learning to be Content – 16/05/21

    I sit and I’m awash with contentedness, my full midsection makes me smile, and causes my toes to pleasantly curl. I’ve not felt this comfortable warmth amid a toasty winter’s bedroom in what seems like forever – I welcome the feeling, note the lack of mental feud. For, to feel and be satiated, with no inkling of guilt present when lately it’s haunted, consumed me for so long, is to show signs of progress, normalcy, and a rightness of thought.

    I feel a fire within my belly and a welcome drowsiness within my mind, lethargy is settling in, and regret is surprisingly hard to find. Whereas in the past, I’d pick and pick at my ‘weakness’ for allowing my capacity to slightly fill, I realise, I know now, I can make wiser choices, and this satiation I don’t have to begrudge, hate myself for, nor become angered or rage at myself as a drill.

    I realise, to some, how petty my worries may seem, stupid, precious or ridiculous to those with little or no empathy, but disordered thinking compounded by years certainly has an effect, and this comfortability now is a breakthrough here, I’ll allow my smile to continue yet.

    Still, balance must always be assumed, continually studied, and practiced, I cannot allow myself to become too comfortable, and make poor judgements, but, to be kinder to myself, it’s important as there is nobody else, no one here eternally, I am the one who must look after myself, my health, and my energy. Upon this path, it is so important for my journey, for my personal growth, and for my stability.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Unwanted Barbs – 15/05/21

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  • Poem: Unwanted Barbs – 15/05/21

    Poem: Unwanted Barbs – 15/05/21

    The Wheel’s a circle
    that never misgives,
    round and around,
    until we cease to
    heave, breathe, live.

    In a fluid motion
    it carries us down the line,
    extended arms now broken hearts,
    theirs, yours, and mine.

    What happens when my memories
    cease to be fonder,
    instead aching for something of real intent,
    fingertips reach yonder,

    but that will never be,
    I’ve grown,
    look what I’ve become,

    I’m stronger,
    confident,
    brave,
    and I won’t take shit from anyone.

    Argue with me about minute circumstances,
    pick into hollows that barely began,
    turning tides as smooth
    as gliding glass,
    these circumstances are
    better known to a distant man.

    I’ve no time for jabs or arguments,
    my life is organised,
    I’m progressing forward,
    gone is most of my strife,

    let me live without envisioning
    barely concealed barbs and vapid digs
    worn as armour,
    proclaimed with might.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Previous Post: ‘Imagining’ – 14/05/21

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  • Prose: Stride – 12/05/21

    Prose: Stride – 12/05/21

    I’ll just get on with it. Moving forward, that’s the path for me. I can forget but I cannot forgive, hateful words slammed into my face, am I expected to smile and continue being me? To cast aside their hurtful nature with a flippant wave, because someone muttered a begrudging ‘sorry’?

    I’ll walk on. I’ll walk forward, stride by stride, with those who want to be by my side, no requirements or expectations weighing heavily, breathing down my neck any longer. I am not here to provide what I am uncomfortable to share. It is my life, my skin, my being, my spirit, the soul that I’m in. And I won’t give, give, give, unless I desire to do so. It’s not their right to receive.

    I reiterate my worth to myself, speaking in quiet tones, then in my mind, I roar, I so roar, that I am enough without needing to be reassured about my appearance, my presence, my usefulness, my assurance is that I will be okay. I know this, I have supports in my life, and being without someone who hurt me emotionally is right, so right. I don’t need someone who does that while walking alongside.

    I will not be cut down. I am unafraid to stride.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Evolution’ – 11/05/21

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  • Poem: Evolution – 11/05/21

    Poem: Evolution – 11/05/21

    Evolution, absolution,
    ammunition, contradiction.

    I’m expected to pick among shreds of dignity
    like a seed-starved hen,
    in the hopes of finding something
    worthy of contrition,

    but this ‘matter’ won’t be absolved
    with a preposterous predilection,
    words like a loaded gun,
    emotional hostage,
    a ‘Stockholm’ situation.

    Grew on you
    then pretences wore away,
    derelict thoughts
    like aching mental chasms,
    which could have lasted for days,

    in situ but the
    prognosis is not sweet,
    barrel away, barrel away,
    escaped with barely
    a decent peep.

    Realisation, dumbfounded,
    shreds of my armour became loose,
    gaping holes,
    barely hanging,

    shine unto the world as
    you once shone unto them,
    I tell myself my truths,
    while I acknowledge their ruse,

    these perils were only permitted
    by willingness and weakened defences —
    and I won’t be that type of person again,
    I will begin again, anew.

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

    Previous Post: ‘A Sprite’s Memories’ – 10/05/21

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  • Poem: Serendipity – 05/05/21

    Poem: Serendipity – 05/05/21

    My eyes digest the scene before me,
    taking in every minute detail.
    I cannot fathom what is greeting me,
    but my appreciation,
    it will never cease nor fail.

    The Universe has sent this beauty and perfection,
    I am delighted by the colours,
    so bright,
    surging are my emotions,
    I have all the time I need
    in this life,
    a moment of delightful contemplation.

    I am permitted the pleasure of
    eyes being treated to richness and truth,
    the glowing sun,
    the blossoming daffodils,
    the beds of other flowers
    spread through and through.

    I trail my dress as I lithely
    walk the paths
    of the quiet garden where
    flora becomes anew,
    these delights help the world through their abundance,
    I create with them,
    pluck, pick, and arrange,
    trailing thoughts on an off-white page.

    I say yes,
    I affirm my existence
    within this bubble of a world,
    the scent, while maybe overwhelming,
    wraps its arms around me,
    Serendipity, Serendipity,
    my presence has a requirement,
    a gentle, humble need to tell.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash

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  • Poem: An Eventful Evening – 27/04/21

    Poem: An Eventful Evening – 27/04/21

    A rambling here and there, 
    a touch, a smile, humour is in the air, 
    comfortability, 
    company contained, 
    thoughts shared, 
    all aboard the rise and fall of the train. 

    I don’t feel awry, do you?
    They shake their head, 
    they know not to speak their truths, 
    for if it were known how nervous one felt, 
    the pressures of the heart would have to be spoke,
    a heart would have to admit it melts,
    the tightening of a wanted noose, 
    a newly looser belt. 

    Why on earth would the fissures let loose, 
    steam gusting forth, 
    and geysers pressurising the room, 

    words spoken, or hushed in the dark, 
    addle the mind, 
    or allow another to crawl away, 
    escape, 
    into their comfort zone, 
    where are you — 
    oh, hark?
    I think this takes the cake, 
    I think it hits the mark,
    walk away, away, from the affray?

    Take the sugar, 
    exercise the sweetness,
    be brave, 
    don’t knock objects aside accidentally, 
    the clumsiness can leave a smudge
    that no one will want to save, 

    and celebrate the moments
    when time seems to have healed 
    the brokenness inside of them,
    and eyes, 
    and sight, 
    certain glittering beauty will steal.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Ben Koorengevel on Unsplash

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    Photo by guy stevens on Unsplash
  • Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Losing control,
    walking on a tightrope,
    hurled on a high swing,
    abandoning all that I do not want,
    can signal the end of everything.

    Sweetness in all its magic,
    is temptation as it comes,
    the palatable,
    the rush,
    the seeming goodness,
    the body screams for it,
    by eleven, the damage is done.

    Little pieces initially,
    then vacuuming that room,
    inhaling without true consciousness,
    not even savouring the feeling,
    this feeling I wish to be rid of soon.

    For if it’s acknowledged,
    won’t that mean it’s fine for pleasure to return?
    I’ve spent months on end denying the joy
    of consumption,
    and now, here, look at me now…

    Unravelling the habit?
    Denying myself,
    creating a disservice?
    I’m not sure if I should surrender,
    but what I know is

    I should be grateful,
    I should be thankful,
    trust me, in ways I am,
    but the mindset I want, need, have to retain,
    it cannot be thrust aside,
    if so, well, I’ll be damned.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash.

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