Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: autobiographical

  • Poem: Placed Just Right – 03/11/21

    Poem: Placed Just Right – 03/11/21

    please place it into place
    for I am found
    discrepancies no longer need to abound
    my world is prismatic
    how about yours?
    this is the way I prefer it
    darkness is too untoward

    lightness and fluidity
    I have routine daily
    which sets me in steed for healing gently
    I am encouraging my world
    I am watching myself bloom
    I wish to welcome many others
    those who wish to blossom joyfully in this room

    abide by no rules
    live freely
    strength, resilience, be bold
    to have come from such instability
    when my mind was fraying at the seams
    when the pieces were already shattering
    broken already, then further
    my thoughts chattering.

    delusions so grand
    I encapsulated so many lands
    being fiercely unwell, so many years
    taken away from me,
    but now I’m becoming right, right, right,
    there is nothing left to fear
    my heart, it feels full
    because I’m living in a way
    I hold dear

    I’ve learned these mechanisms which
    keep me in tow
    set my mind at ease
    abilities to cope, slowly grow
    stressors become lesser
    and my temperament is free
    to be myself
    be less counterproductive
    more me,
    improvements to see.
    (02/10/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Ashkan Forouzani on Unsplash

    Previous Post: evolution – 01/11/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Perhaps some are meant to be
    apart for a while,
    to allow distance and the ability for
    truth to no longer be real.

    Imagination reigns without truth,
    what is that person seeing, feeling,
    what will they do,
    thoughts of them, I should really be
    immensely and measurably through.

    Delicate interventions,
    reaching out in a moment,
    wondering is no longer wondering
    because now there’s an
    ability to slightly see,

    Are there differences to be observed,
    are they selective,
    there to be heard?
    I know there are some changes,
    waiting to be discovered and learned.

    Brightened are they,
    with each moment they are heard,
    loneliness could have overwhelmed,
    must have caused great dismay,

    but I must tread delicately,
    not flit around too flashily or fancily,
    too much attention drawn could cause cracks to be seen and
    cause future suffering.

    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image from Unsplash.

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Without Pressure – 26/12/20

    Poem: Without Pressure – 26/12/20

    There is no longer any pressure,
    self-produced,
    to create nor feel,
    no rushing to the chopping block
    where I must reveal my innards,
    to show something real.

    Instead, I can gently rest,
    not be concerned with
    the haste, my imposed rush,
    because it is time to take
    some time out for myself,
    I’ve been tired
    and don’t I know it.

    Constantly dragging things,
    items up from me
    is like fishing in the darkness,
    I know what’s there,
    there are secrets lurking
    but I don’t know entirely
    where, when, or what I will find.

    The funny thing is this is
    not even required of me –
    I’m the one pushing,
    to delve, so much so, that
    the word ‘I’ is irritating even me.

    Changes could be made
    but I’m stuck,
    hindered by this not so fail-safe practice,
    it’s not tried and true,
    and it’s tiring, true?
    I need to step back and
    alter my practice.

    Of course, confessionals
    have their place,
    I acknowledge a share
    has great potency,
    but not on and on and on
    and on and on,
    even I sometimes want
    to leave.

    So, I’ll torment no further,
    or at least I will try,
    to avoid ailing with my pen,
    words stabbing in ears and eyes,
    and relax,
    step back,
    and just take a breath,

    sometimes life is actually light-hearted,
    had I not thought about sharing and presenting that?

    (Early July 2020)

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Quang Nguyen vinh from Pixabay

    Return to All Posts

    Home

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Poem: Neither High Nor Low – 27/09/20

    Poem: Neither High Nor Low – 27/09/20

    Plateaued.
    Neither high nor low this time.
    Simply existing as I lie here,
    my mind blank,
    strangely it is not a feeling that perturbs
    or is out of place.

    It’s just that the noise has stopped,
    the odd chatter that weaved in and out,
    through my mind as though as a slithering snake
    has calmed itself
    and I am here,
    at one,
    with the quietness,
    the peace,
    the solitude.

    Even intruding noise pales in comparison
    to the stillness,
    I seem so far away from it,
    it’s as though there’s no link from my auditory
    path to it.

    Like I have wiped away that connection,
    I am dumbfounded in mind and soul,
    and it’s not something that needs deflecting from,
    for I am welcoming these sensations
    which lack in their own.

    Neither high nor low is my mood.
    I am not raging, I am not frustrated,
    I am not elated.
    No, no.

    I am presently a blank canvas,
    waiting for an artist like myself
    to splatter me with my own colours,
    my own schema,
    my own shades from my palette,
    and why, there are many,
    wouldn’t you know it?

    Though, there’s no need for any bright tones,
    there is beauty in the unfinished,
    the white rectangle I am present as
    is surprisingly perfect,
    a wanted moment,
    a feast for the eyes,
    for if I imagine my own scene,
    my own painting,
    I can alter myself,
    in a way of doing so,
    everything,
    I appreciate the freedom
    of the mental creation I can see and breathe.

    Neither high nor low
    is how I am,
    not rushing toward the finishing line,
    neither despairing because
    I have not reached it in time.

    I will create if I feel like it,
    but for now,
    a sudden newfound static in my head is
    utterly welcoming.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Andriyko Podilnyk on Unsplash

    Home

    All Posts

    Join me also at:

    Instagram

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Prose: Chirping Crickets – 26/09/20

    Prose: Chirping Crickets – 26/09/20

    Male crickets chirp, signalling their romantic calamity. They know what they are seeking, whom they are aiming to have come into their world. But crickets; crickets, crickets, don’t we downplay their communication, assigning a meaning of humorous silence following a moment intended to be poignant, profound, or carry some other feeling?

    I used to love crickets as a child. I would hunt them for hours on end, following the sounds until hopefully, in the brush, I would pounce with jar in hand and happen upon one, to keep all of my own. I fancied having a cricket as a pet would be a grand affair. Sadly, I only ever succeeded at once catching one. They were often far too perceptive at hearing my lumbering human body’s approach and would suddenly hush with their song, thereby quashing my ability to reign victorious as a Cricket-Owning Queen.

    It makes me wonder, who else decides to silence themselves in order to avoid any unwanted behaviour or conflict? Who backs down, seemingly cowardly initially, but inherently wise in the end? For the world, with its youth and ignorance, with its body of fiery enemies and desires and wants and needs, can be dangerous for any little crickets to exist in, this is truth from my mouth which begs to be heard, all well as vowels formed to be seen.

    I used to want to capture bees as well. They were so beautiful and busy and perfect, that I wanted my own, even if for an hour, then I would return it to the safety of its pollen-filled world. Capturing a busy, occupied bee proved far easier than locating and capturing a garden cricket. Still, sadness then washed over me as I realised what I was doing, what had I done? I had captured something so wonderful which was meant to remain free in its own way. With a smile and a few comforting words, I gently released my unintentional prey, my beautiful companion if only for a few minutes of that day.

    And I hear them calling me again, I hear the buzzing of their fervent collections, I hear the shrill calling of the dances I took with crickets who surely smiled in wonder at my persistence, and I smile to myself at my childhood curiosity, and at knowing that nothing that calm, serene Nature created should be altered, should be changed, should be taken away from the comfort of their own damn home – how would I like it if I were plucked from the comforts of my very own abode?

    But crickets chirping in my memory tell me there’s no finer point to be made, nor a softer point to be emphasised, just to live life in harmony with the world, and we will get along perfectly fine.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Krzysztof Niewolny on Unsplash

    Home

    All Posts

    Join me also at:

    Instagram

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Poem: Better – 25/09/20

    Poem: Better – 25/09/20

    The rain pitter-patters against the window
    reminding me of the melancholy I used to feel,
    but now I am developing myself,
    I am fusing myself together,
    redetermining self-worth.

    I need not chase the opinions high nor low
    of yonder words to come,
    need not seek the approval of critical strangers,
    or unkind people who I’m not close with,
    why, shouldn’t they matter little to none?

    I seek your approval, because I care for your thoughts,
    I seek the justice of your moments with me
    because I am true with you,
    together we become,
    but I shan’t allow my life to hinge
    on your thoughts of me anymore,
    because I am stronger,
    I believe in myself,
    more and more and more.

    It’s taken a while to reach this stage,
    I’m merely dipping my big toe in the water,
    who knows what there is to come,
    who knows what’s happily living under,
    what I will experience,
    who will I meet,
    on my journey,
    this life path indeed.

    I sit on the riverbank and wonder,
    why was I so needy,
    why was I so temperamental,
    why was I so melancholy,
    why was I so angry?

    Needing others’ affirmation, day in and day out,
    it was sickening,
    I look back on those years,
    no wonder I was not blooming.

    But now, my heart is open,
    at least its slowly opening up the shutters,
    letting in the smell of that beautiful rain
    pelting down,
    and I know,
    I know,
    that things will be better from now on,
    trust me,
    I tell myself.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

    Home

    All Posts

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

    Instagram

  • Poem: An Awakening – 21/09/20

    Poem: An Awakening – 21/09/20

    The ambient music is comforting,
    soothing unto my soul,
    it makes me rise along with it,
    and when the melody sinks with satisfaction,
    my heartbeat ebbs,
    it flows.

    I relish these special times I have
    to appreciate the music in my abode,
    where I am left quietly,
    contemplatively,
    to myself.

    No noisy interruptions,
    no untoward commotions,
    just me and my heart beating,
    eyes brightened,
    with joy, oh, such joy.

    I’ve never felt so serene,
    and I’m doing this simply as I please,
    I am at ease,
    I am relaxed,
    it’s so nice to not feel the agitation and anger,
    disquieting at that.

    The internal cacophonies have finally ceased,
    there are no danger zones left for me
    to navigate, even if I pleased,
    for inside, I am calm,
    it has taken me so long,
    to come to terms with the
    noisiness that was hurting
    my soul.

    Why was I unsettled?
    Why such internal rage and anger?
    The self-hatred,
    the lashing out at others,
    feeling dissatisfaction with my life:
    it seemed a permanent fixture.

    But now, now,
    I feel both motivated and at peace,
    at finally truly making something of myself,
    my life,
    the times I ardently strove for success had seemed
    so far in the past
    that replication never seemed something I could dream of,
    reach for,
    or could personally seek.

    Now, now,
    I am stronger,
    and I feel the serenity sink into my muscles,
    into my bones,
    and make itself at home,
    I am finally at peace,
    and there is no need to feel anything less
    than – within my skin –
    perfectly at home.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

    Return to All Posts

    Home

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

    Instagram

  • Poem: Encased in a New Home – 18/08/20

    Poem: Encased in a New Home – 18/08/20

    I exist in a cavity which yawns,
through it winds the breath of a midsummer’s gusting around a yew tree’s
gaps and leaves.
 
This cavity has been hollowed out by a pneumatic drill of life,
its thoughtless operator did not check for underground hazards,
didn’t concern himself with the overhead wires
and animals upon their tails as hangers,
no, this negative space has been constructed only to my liking,
a place for me to exist,
my hiding,
he understood my needs.
 
Somehow, how can a widened interior house someone whose own interior
is still healing,
still shattered in areas, still widely-known for easily breaking?
I present in a different manner to stop the worrying,
to stop others holding concern, I am happy, though inside I could be better.
 
While I am unfulfilled, I am full of desire and drive,
within this small cavity I exist undisturbed,
able to construct my thoughts,
the drill shudders and trembles around me,
wanting to make more space for this growing body,
because, growing like my heart and soul, which repairs themselves slowly,
this place feels like home now.
It does, truly.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Jerry Zhou on Unsplash

    Return to All Posts

    Home

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Poem: Bright Spark – 08/08/20

    Poem: Bright Spark – 08/08/20

    I am in my element in this state,
perpetual song and dance, 
electrifying dopamine and serotonin
I rise, I rise, I rise fast.
 
My wit and charm seem perfectly at hand,
I giggle, am sardonic, I laugh with ease,
of this state I’m trying to comprehend.
Is life playing tricks on me?
 
Is it the reduction of the mind-numbing medication that is what's causing me this
amazing bliss? 
This erratic showwomanship that’s causing me to smile 
and dance all over the place,
with my body’s withdrawal tick, tick, ticks?
 
My creativity soars,
is mania pre-empted?
Wouldn’t you like to take control of my oars?
Be responsible for temporary guidance?
 
I will toss them aside,
I don’t, who needs control
not when I can explode with wild laughter,
my energy bubbling and frothing,
enthusiasm flows,
but don’t you know this,
this state I am in, my eclectic humour and lilting wit can only 
grow, grow, grow, and grow?
 
I am impatient, I can definitely be self-satisfied, 
I can be easily amused, this brews and simmers inside,
I am impressed by my words
and my ability to throw forth clever jokes,
when I'm like this, 
I entertain others,
no chance of boredom, for that, 
there is no hope. 
 
My sounding board, he listens,
with amused chuckles he accepts my
chortling trills,
it’s nice to have another soul with whom I can talk
rubbish to for hours,
without their ear being bashed,
assailed by my sounds,
together we can share some verbal thrills.
 
Rather than thinking I am too outrageous,
that my character is simply too much,
I think I’m just returning to who I was
(lies)
before the medications were slapped upon me
(lies: you might need to replenish, 
stop the spare pills’ accumulation,
rather, send them to your insides)
a mind's clever tricks, recommendations of mine.

I should know better
but I am being optimistic,
bipolarity flies from within me,
I love this freedom,
the ability to daily and nightly dream,
I am living for the moment,
I am so happy to finally be here,
the abnormality here is none!
In this state I am positively flowing.

I cannot quite believe it,
it seems there's a wave of rolling applause and excitement,
I must attend to the imagined need there is,
heaving and ready, 
thank you for being here yourselves,
and here for me,
I tentatively smile, then beam, 
yes, why, of course,
all is as it seems.

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

    Return to All Posts

    Home

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Poem: Unspoken Reasons – 26/07/20

    Poem: Unspoken Reasons – 26/07/20

    Don’t tell me why.
Don’t avoid the how.
Reveal the when.
Tell me now.
 
I must hear it.
I’m telling you,
you must breathe it,
speak your whole truth.
 
I beg of you:
Why did you leave?
Each time I saw you,
afterwards, silence lingering.
 
A hollow yawning,
gaping in my chest,
my repeated pain like
parading bull ants,
nipping, biting –
you were never my best.
 
Sticks and stones,
your omissions broke my bones,
I’m a fragile girl beneath it all,
 
my bravado and shine,
wipe them away,
so much emotional investment,
mere wasted time.

User and abuser, 
you never made me yours,
though for you, parts of me self-sacrificed,
my yearning the cause,
 
then,
without an utterance:
your tepid goodbye,
re-connection to be made months down the line.
  
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Lucas Pezeta from Pexels

    Return to All Posts

    Home

    Join me also at:

    YouTube

    SoundCloud