
Copyright 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.


Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to work with my dear friend, Navin Manik, of Navin’s Poetry to write and record together a piece together. Please visit his site for his amazing spoken word and poetry. There you will find soulful, striking, deep words from his very soul recorded, performed and shared.
We sincerely hope you enjoy our poetry project, Implore.
Implore
The breaths I take
The steps I sway
When I dance on my feet
My ground is change
The heights I stare
The case is space
The light has shades
The dark isn’t just pain
I see the sane
When I saw the chain
I tear the deep
When I drop the waves
The colours I blend
The Universe I paint
The eyes then glare
The divine through pen
I expand upon
an inner sense
of personal justice
social soul well meant
I know I know
the ability for
personal growth
is well rooted deep within,
for every passing second
my efforts are tirelessly sown,
my chest expands
my heart, it flows
rich with breath, mighty effort
stallion-like strength –
continuous insistence,
and sound temperament.
our steps in time
pirouetting groundwork
yours and mine
our knowledge together
brought closely in life
we stare down the precipice
and soar, divine,
unknowingly yet aware
we become entwined
intent and more
this World we explore
for reaching our Universe’s heights
sights and sounds
enriching our abilities
our minds implore.
Copyright © 2021 Navin Manik Poetry and Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
Video and sound editing by Navin, violin track and artwork by myself.
You can also find us on Instagram.
@navinspoetry_
@laurenm.hancock


excited parallel universe
where our motives selfishly meant
were never truly met
but in our beings we felt
those irrevocable dents start to mend
or were they beginning to spread?
hard to decipher, the sensations felt
young crushes soft passions
gentle touches
flushed complexions
rough grabs forced giggles
becoming something I didn’t want to acknowledge
to please to be to allow him to feel to see “me” being
right for him
always that alteration for them
never for me
projection
motivations incorrect
feelings, felt
triumph
theirs, mine?
I’m not certain
though during the time,
a certain type of divine victory —
in that moment, they, he, whomever,
were mine.
the chameleon-like transformation,
the desire rising and gaining
and now
the self-annihilation:
who am I really
when I’m being something falsified for another?
playing these games all well and good
but for some time
losing sight of my inner flowers
blossoms growing stagnant
fragrance now putrid and pungent.
for the scent of desperation and
conformed coercion
was, well,
so wrong.
and now I’m older
I won’t allow this again for myself I will rise from these rubbish requests
these wanton blatant desires
specific request, the audacity,
I cannot get over,
change yourself?
I didn’t request any amendments for you,
because I’m not rude in that manner.
This, whatever it was, I am over.
(28/11/21)
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. (Artwork, recording, and words)






Sometimes I’m in a mood to fly colour all around on the page. No rhythm, no rhyme about it. Just the process I find relaxing and enriching. At the end it’s nice to see how the colours meld with each other, whether it’s subtle, fluid, or not at all. I find it a little like active meditation making this type of art.


running free
it’s what I need breathe feel
the wind battering my face
as I take on new beliefs
knowing internally what this will cause
what type of effect
no denial in me
shedding skin
cocooning complete
what is done
done done done.
I can no longer hold
that false bravado
satisfied feeling
eyes rolling to the ceiling
knowing knowing
now what’s better for me
and what must remain attached
with caution
running free running free
delicate contractions,
prized so desired actions.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Aditya Saxena on Unsplash


Living for the momentum and
living for the dream,
thoughts tossed,
bruised and broken,
living despite ill feeling.
The circumstances are these:
I do not taunt, I do not tease,
I live above and beyond,
how I experience the world,
predication, I know it, for these.
Warble yet, my dear swan,
gangly neck though thee has,
I do not know, do not know,
whether the games played,
stone’s thrown,
will seriously cause another to
come undone,
thoughts expelled,
contemplative or mad.
The truth, the fact of the matter is,
I’m rather like my own swan of truth,
interweaving elegance and wings which flap
with ease,
bright glide and there’s no other
than that another,
who knows of my true crazy patterns
they’re lived, so breathed,
within, deep personal power.
For it is with fluidity, with comfortability,
that I have been allowed to define,
contemplation, rumination, no stagnation,
progress within this virulent nation,
why, is this not a sight for sorry eyes?
Treasuring this life as mine,
gracious though precious be,
I am grateful for my life situation,
so much is calling unto me.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image source


What we are and what we feel are
two different concepts,
notions I need to feel,
I watch from within as thoughts build and layers
harden then peel
like ancient flakes of house paint decorating
that life we accepted and treasured within,
I know through deep understanding
that each flake tells a story,
it’s witnessed so much of life
to be felt, heard, and seen.
What I feel is a blossoming,
a wafting rose developing,
from a tiny elaborate bud into
much,
much more,
complexities created,
so much in store,
her fragrance is intoxicating,
I do not yearn for anything but her
in the morning,
a pin-pricking, her warning,
to be gentle with her,
patience never stalling.
A petal drops –
by goodness, what a shame,
her story is unfolding,
but losing beauty? –
should the ache in my heart refrain?
Because it is with dying that she is
breathing life,
to live is to expire,
but to experience is proof of internal fire.
And her flames are astounding,
she’s alive, so vivid now,
effervescent, glowing
the flakes of paint fall into an inferno,
fuelling her understanding
that to live is to capture and incinerate
what the world deems as beauty,
there’s much more to her presence,
behind there is more than a duty,
it’s a requirement fulfilled morally.
And it is with experience that she
continues to grow,
her form is not lopped,
stunted growth,
to entertain others with her vision,
with her dangerous thorns
as protection,
for her wonder in the morning
and beyond,
we think, we feel,
we consider what she does,
what notions there are to accept,
as necessary?
Sometimes it’s required that our awareness
is measured,
and our hearts, oh, our hearts,
must begin to beat harder,
no option for slowing,
no option for stalling,
they should continue to beat fiercely,
uncontrollably.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Meghan Schiereck on Unsplash
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