Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
look at this breath this baby’s hum and warmth permeating the surface of peonies on show i cannot care any more than I already do for this exquisite view simplicity between hearts wrought, tapestries bursting, sewn full. [...]
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
Author's note: Sometimes I like to look back at my drafts and see what was on my mind months prior, and how I constructed these realities into rhymes and words to soothe myself, express anger, frustration, upsets, or some such. This piece I feel still has some of these truths ringing in my current reality. Hence, I thought I would share it with you here today.
the owls, the owlsthey tiptoe along the wiresharing songs and stories,eons of lifetimes togetherfervent hoots and warblesaltogetherimpressive wingspans as they envelopthe biting morning air togetherhush down little preyscatter as you mayall words, no prey, no victimsbut treated with such tendernessowls caress the vowels and syllableswithout damnationwith much great proofof ultimate, irreverentatypical swayyythrough and throughplucked from [...]
bounce baby let me rise with thee there was only one path for us and that’s true destiny we are anything but circumstance we are everything wild and planned we are perfection hand in hand and scan my heart to find the true lands [...]
it feels like gold it shines it glimmers it never grows old these times that grow within my soul cause me to smile widely from ear to ear. [...]
admirable this deceptive intent I've known you from before and really, well, the efforts aren’t well spent for I can see through the cage-work the fingers prised through the wired gaps trying to get through through to my heart when I’ve made it whole from pieces – a work of fastidious art [...]
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.
I carried a hope for you and I to be whole to know it all together for positive growth there might not have been patience but there really was truth I could not ask for more but explanations that I could only view analyse and so I knew [...]
woke up late I didn’t know what I was all about looking around with delirium smiling to myself at the fever I knew would begin again the fervid burning of hope at knowing knowing knowing that what I pursue is worth the dreaming allowing for facts of independence and fine fine times [...]
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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