I sit here by this loom — Hand making, hand weaving fineries For our sort beneath the moon. It is quiet here, absent are those memories Which once took up space within my cranium, The mind of mine where thoughts permeated of you and I, Once alive, now we have died.
Those recollections, Memories, Introspections, Interjections? No, not anymore. I don’t allow them to rise forth, Grinning ghosts and ghouls once dragging Like a wedding veil or dress trailing upon The rocky floor.
No, our memories shan’t live on, No, no, they will never rise, Into the air like helium would, No air balloons for me to view, No future tears to cry. (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved. Photo by ImAArtist on Pixabay
the magic of the Universe calls spiral patterns curl reminding us of grandma, mother and child the lush serene nature of breath glows from Gaia’s glorious eyes enlivened spirits exploring elves glittering sprightly sprites. I am amazed by the clouded blue before me above rainbows threaten to fall magnificent oceans, raging and still, waiting for the next wet treasure from Nature’s dripping eyes a blessing unto the animals forest dwellers and rainforest homes deserts with Libyan sand and zircon from a mystical land we should roam; emerald green reflected in the water of savannah’s dreams. Magic all around this world we call home cherish it we must trees to shoot forth, the jungle cats sleek and pleased birds soar on high eagles rise, swans dive. Precious be the little bugs who escape most eyes rescued spiders then released from harm by hands who love them to hide entranced, enchanted by the world we have here already created for us respect Gaia let us not destroy this bliss remain spellbound know her love, seal Nature’s union with a kiss.
This is inspired by a prompt on Instagram called ‘Spellbound’ from @mlhmusings. The title alone inspired me to write this piece, which is admittedly very different from how the artworks would have guided me on their own.
I am spellbound by you, little darlin’, the little us which may never come to be, I am dreaming of you, sweet darlin’, the most precious princess we might ever see. Mesmerised I am by you, darling, thoughts of mystical magic you will flash, sweetheart, will you ever share your life? so many trials and tribulations threatened to thieve your conception, your true inner light will outlast.
Some don’t encourage your arrival, dearest being, neither cajole nor inter you to shine the glory of your wondrous face: divine, the mildest then brightest expressions need never go to waste, apple of our eyes…
My heart, our hearts, we shine with you, the ability to distinguish and slice through pain, Love will carry us through, a close-knit family, finally, our own, wishes naught yearned for nor cried for in vain, together, our lives will finally ring true. same, same and same.
Our precious being, won’t you see? how eagerly awaiting we are for you to breathe, darling, view us, hear me, we welcome you with open arms, embrace your family, Star-child who decides to grace us, visit us from afar, accompanied by divine melody, sent from eons up above.
(c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved. Photo by guille pozzi on Unsplash
allowing her heart, green chakra to ache and heave breaths suddenly inert then heavier cast bronze statue of sin elaborate not the mishaps nor the immoralities untoward but feast upon the irreverence which rusts not that bronze but iron ore. karmic connections hence grow more and soul contracts stately dreams within her eyes she wants nothing more than to take the journey rip it by its seams, cherishing not the path, but the destructive nature, demise, of everything she thought she’d ever need. substance, subtract, divide, understanding the atrocities of current sins and wreaking havoc with subtle powers which give more away than sensational pages could ever hide, there’s nothing more to dictate she’s heightened, aware, rest assured, by her side her hand twitches, certain powers are abhorred, but her strength within, grown more and more.
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.
SCHIZOAFFECTIVITY family can be a strange thing. One minute you’re loved then the next you’re like a pestilence, an unwanted being. Of course, bringing it upon oneself, well, that’s something different, but in the end, I was made the tyrant, laid away on the shelf though only temporarily.
And I suppose, I suppose it is so, this falling-apart thing that happens to my mind when I go temporary awry, momentarily insane, is this the pushing button inside, or on my brain that makes me ill for two closed months when I’m made to be locked away, my words spoken loudly in vain?
I am just a patient, mentally, I have delusions, grand, carried out about the land and while I whine and scream, still want to shine, in my hand a small cup of perilous potions to be sucked down inside.
The system wants to treat, they do it in the best ways they can but some they cannot help people like me initially on medications I feel they burden me, I choke.
There’s nothing different about health these days in fact, there IS, but in time I will realise that some just wanted to help some were happy for me to shine and like the ordinary world, with some others, they wouldn’t pay my words a dime.
I understand I can’t always please, temporarily the medicine makes me want to heave there’s just so much of it, my addled mind, years ago progressed from bipolar to schizoaffective disorder, whilst in my “prime”.
I will be the boisterous me I will grin and bear the dreams I will heal and steal that light the sun of the Son of the Sun I will rise when the prisms sparkle rainbow sheens I will be fortuitous and reach for desired dreams I will call and call for items like sticky pearls because they satiate my need for nourishment be and end all.
I won’t fold beneath pressure I will contemplate and begin to once again know my other my shadow self I will tame and feed her charisma my Peter-Pan syndrome my rainbow sprite self won’t go under
I will live with an inner dream childhood fantasies of writing and creating art and music are everything, as they seemed I will not complain nor will I whine because within is my great divine and I will reach it, reach her, the moment I speak I will become of her
Let the laymen understand me and even let the complex mock me I won’t heed their warnings their shooting signs because this is my life and I’ll direct it just fine.
choosing which side to take, it’s really not that hard, to rise and rise with great distinction or to sink and remain at large.
there’s no shame in being positive and pretty with my words I will conflate them, will engorge them with slim and shaded shadows the truth has already been forged, lusciously, freely.
the time I take with every piece I spit it out as though an undesired precious dream, a nightmare in fact, some have come to be but only in my dwindling ill-durations, irreverently.
have respect for some and respect for all but what matters most when you’re in the presence of ghosts who make you laugh and cry and everything in between is this truth in itself is this really what it seems?
more so humankind who seemed to prey upon me seemed to play with my weaker points reading my life enabled the training those clicks and turns all the while delicately, indelicately? there’s nothing, just an indelible style.
I did not, do not appreciate being treated with operant conditioning I am not an animal, I am myself I am a woman above and underneath and between.
speak not of those sickening months and years nor my fears, anxiety, poor Jurassic tears there is nothing sycophantic in my words right now.
I will rise and rise and you’ll see – you’ll see how far I’ll go.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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