Conspiring melodies, tongue-in-cheek parodies, beginning to recall memories, shove them down, place myself at ease.
Jilted rhythms, a sonata heaves and breathes, escaping the melancholy, Dear, there seems no end to these.
I waltz through artwork, it is my time, my time to spit forth images, not rhymes, that was a dragging tune that brought itself to harken my ears, enough to resolutely accept, enough of the feigned prowess, remember, always remembering, who you were before that pink dress.
(c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved. Image from Pixabay.
Artwork by Lin Onus and Mandjad Productions “Michael and I are just slipping down to the pub for a minute” 2000
(c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
water, our life force, as important as the air we breathe, value this we must, nurture it, cherish it, we do, shall, see?
water, an elemental force, her importance, we heed, countering roaring fires, hydrogen and oxygen calm, in part, but citizens harrowed and tired, fled and flee,
forget these moments? never,
we shall not, smoke lingering on the breeze.
we as a nation banded together, and of elements, fire, earth, wind, water, we encountered and employed them, to ignore the strength of these, alone or together, we’d be ignorant, and repeated recollection – nightmarish, awakening, split seams.
then the stagnant life where we were hidden away socialisation limited for our needs, closed work spaces, many months of solitude, from society, away, away!
now, no major flames or tempests fanning another destructive force, no fire-forced movement – “Hades”, pentacle, downward swipe, instead again, lives lost, pictures, memories, animals, remembrances of families, destructed homes, now lakes and rivers overflow… when shall we be saved, when will we know?
but there’s fluidity and a resilience within us all natural disasters will not keep us down we, Australians, are strong and homegrown brave and true, working together we save each other we rise up with others
for bold is our connection with Mother Earth we respect her, we revere her, we are in awe of her its power, her mighty force for the power she provides and the strength and cruelty with which she can decimate, be present, or run and hide.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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