Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: blogger

  • prose poetry: the turning tides – 26/02/22

    prose poetry: the turning tides – 26/02/22

    fighting against the turning tides, the waves rise and crash upon the open shore, begging for appeasement, begging the waves for more. The fish and seashells and mermaids and mermen crawl from well beyond the shore. There’s barely anything left upon the seabed, so tumultuous it has become indeed, from tridents these waves of terror have been sent, and wreaking upon my life the charlatans and evidence of danger all around, whose going to reinstate that purple crown? That glowing iridescence that lingers above my head, once there, once gone, and once again now dead, then revived all around?

    There are starfish lingering in the bed, in the crevasses, and one large, large star within my head.
    “I am terrific,” it says, “I am here and now, won’t you reveal, won’t you remain unashamed, somehow?” I smile to myself, for this pink and yellow starfish is actually amazing to me, she’s how I see, I breathe, I be, through the very evidence that is wrought deep within me. Myself as a mermaid, no, that is not right, I need to be five pointed and note-worthy, without means of a fight. And toss and turn now, deep within my rest, I grin widely now, because I feel blessed for having entered into this scene, this amazing joy it does bring, the tides crashing upon the shore, shall I ask for more, for more, for more?

    And now these dainty little crabs dance up from beneath the sand, left way this and right way that, they don’t want to hold hands, instead a conga line they proceed, with no difficulty, of course not, please, under the sea is where they will be, under their sea indeed. The tides will evermore change but they will still irrevocably remain the same. Precious beauty and pink and blue, with danger zones nil, just a rapid wash of hues. The sun shines down brightly today, this very day, and escape, escape I shall not, come whatever may.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay
    (26/02/22)

  • poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    daggers in her eyes
    she is potent with her stare
    take a needle and thread and prick that evil eye
    with precise care
    the deepest blue you did ever see
    boring into her into me
    flight takin now
    irreverently
    disrespectful they’ve brought her, me,
    down to our knees

    bruises form
    it’s a part of our love
    delicate delicate pink gangly bird
    won’t you realise
    they don’t want you to go
    because it’s better off remaining
    in the syncing of our clarified minds
    the twins the twins
    what’s left of them
    decimated before they were even alive

    but this is the way it should be
    this is the way the
    countering of my feels
    I don’t have the right to procreate
    said she
    I don’t have the right to bring another
    into the world
    not with our lingering malignancy
    mental health disease

    I live in this haze of what’s right and
    what is wrong
    loaded bullet, baby,
    do not ever face that gun
    neither shine it on a spotlight
    you are not a martyr from kingdom come
    stop crying, what’s in your mouth,
    disgusting,
    let us come undone.
    (25/02/22).
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay

  • Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Image from Pixabay

    There was serendipity one night,

    Fate was there to be seen.

    Through an hourglass or an oculus

    Spirits there to dream.

    But these were not pleasant,

    They stole away my breath,

    Gasp, hope,

    The murder they intended,

    Fearful,

    Nasty little boys,

    Irreverent scope.

    Will never happen,

    They will not achieve this intention,

    However ill meant.

    The pathways they are eradicating,

    Newest tunnelling,

    Funnelling,

    Like the spider that she was,

    No longer is,

    She loves in singular, not deuce,

    Never three,

    And for the whirling in her mind,

    Taps of coffee cups,

    One two and three,

    Been talking and talking

    All morning for hours,

    Please, won’t you let it be??

    (C) 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • poem: twine – 28/01/22

    poem: twine – 28/01/22

    I send love and joy to the earthly forms
    soaring beings and ‘neath brewing storms,
    sending love to many many,
    and the sisters of three,
    who love to tug and twist and cut twine ‘neath the sea

    where I lived for many many years under the rotundas of mental health
    amongst dry retching desires and lengthy spells
    searching for love and so much more
    wrong place wrong time,
    I decide to soar.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • The rise : today – 12/01/22

    my heart, oh my heart,

    it fills my mouth spills onto my chest

    a plethora of liquid love well blessed

    because I expelled those demons

    those pains those sufferings

    those feeling of inadequacy

    of needing to be noticed

    and appreciated by

    the lot of them

    I don’t need to be understood any longer

    I don’t need to be wise enough to be taken with

    another’s flow

    I can co-exist and breathe for god knows how long, alone,

    and one day perhaps true love I’ll know

    but I don’t yearn for it call for it

    beg for it every second every hour

    back then

    time was cheap

    worth but a dime

    and sailing through those wretched hours I did not

    enjoy myself,

    oh how I pined,

    my rejected being often soured.

    but now, now dear one listen to my strong deep

    pulsating sentiment

    grasp my pounding heart in your palms

    feel the heavenly treasure within

    I can see you catch your breath

    at acknowledging now

    not visually me but how strong I can permanently internally

    be

    I am useful I am present

    I am here and now

    reality is spilling forth

    I feel the correct rightful temperament.

    love will come in many forms

    it always has, always will,

    and I, here I take that swill

    a fill of luscious liquid

    here’s the drill

    I am satiating myself not with food

    but with cool calming water of wise knowledge and

    wonderment

    life is perfection

    but with another?

    perhaps there’s the time I will know soon enough,

    vibrancy with theirs, is what may be experienced,

    a piece of heaven truly sent..

    (04/12/21)

    Copyright © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: deviation – 29/12/21

    Poem: deviation – 29/12/21

    the times are confusing my dear
    I stare him down in the face
    commonplace, commonplace? Perplexed, no, this world can be full of hate.
    there are jerusalems and narnias and picturesque scenes and wild wild cars
    the darkness darkness speaks to us
    while the light within calls to her

    she speaks in riddles and rhymes
    envelopes the times
    the signs the whines the styles keep trickling into their den
    but the foxes they won’t make amends
    and the wolves they call to them
    they chuckle to themselves, those gods,
    those cryptologists whom seek:
    while we are up in arms.

    we clear the courses,
    delicately, and with charms.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • poem: wonder – 20/12/21

    poem: wonder – 20/12/21

    I don’t wonder about the beauty of the moonlight
    I never question the luminosity of the stars
    what they mean when they’re together
    burning up in arms
    I don’t want to see them fall shoot across the sky
    because they’re already perfection in stationary
    twinkling searing being
    diamonds slicing the serenity of my eyes as I gaze  
    into the epiphanies of my solar tides
    I can be without existing so it seems
    in this world, creation of myself
    affirmations I use as treatment
    my words treasure
    the ephemeral nights lit by haunting future days
    I sing for my sanity
    I rise for my delirium
    I call to the moon for his approval
    but he speaks not
    simply shines fortuitously
    with serenity
    a kind of all-knowing telling me that
    everything is going to be as I desire
    as I hope for
    this coming hour I will feel the tides
    the shifting within the voids of the night
    and dance within the intents –
    my soul utters  
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image credit: Canva

    previous Post: i will wait – 19/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: @laurenm.hancock


  • Poem: by the gods I have been blessed – 15/12/21

    Poem: by the gods I have been blessed – 15/12/21

    the gods have blessed me here today
    and I could not be any more grateful
    I present myself open arms tongue-tied
    fumbling for the right words to speak
    so thankful that I have been given this redemption
    this ability for reprieve
    for soul reflection
    for ascension

    I feel my spirit begin to detach and surround itself
    around my very corporeal being
    enlightening my mind, freeing me from suffering
    there’s nothing to gain from retrieval of memories
    from ill historical and former focusing
    their blatant latent effect upon my cerebral and synapses
    firing in a manner so repetitively tiring
    my emotions couldn’t bear the calling,
    the calling oh, how I begged for their stalling

    and now, momentous is this portion of the night
    my essence is detached yet still intact
    surrounding my body like a breath like its very own fog
    an aura of mist and coolness is this what ethereal spirit be?

    I look to the skies and there is nothing nothing but me to see
    I surround this room I breathe myself in
    peculiar this moment be
    but I give in to the strangeness I allow it to take me in
    and suddenly I become at one with this misty translucent sea
    the gods have blessed me

    I’m freeing myself from the defunct thoughts
    the degenerative memories which assisted me naught
    I have and will continue to move forward
    I surround myself, how obscure, how strange,
    but in this instance, it feels like odd perfection,
    to know that at least, my corporeal being by this spirit
    is being saved.

    I can protect myself in a manner so cloaked and sheathed
    not even the most perceptive will view my soul
    for this spirit, this liveliness, my hope,
    has continued to grow and grow
    with time, with accentuation, with acceptance that
    this life is something to embrace, not complain or be
    pessimistic about,

    I spent so many years in that negative degenerative haze,
    ungrateful state and years of sickeningly unwell mental health –
    I almost could not be saved
    but
    I complain not for I have lived those years
    gained life experience
    learned from doing not viewing
    so many years spent angered and stewing
    vile retention of obsession and contention though now
    I have become enlightened
    in the sense that yes,
    by the gods I have been touched to view my truths
    I have been blessed.

    taught with foresight and acceptance that Life is worth living
    Life is worth receiving
    Life is worth investing in and worth the chances of giving and giving
    and improving and being.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (14/12/21)

    Photo by Nadiia Ploshchenko on Unsplash

    Previous Post: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘by the gods I have been blessed’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • Poem: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    Poem: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    wreath me with the sadness that you could
    no longer carry
    battle heavy battle weary,
    I will shoulder the metaphoric that ate at your spirit
    entranced with the brightness of the airy and sycophantic
    I smile, for I will carry on this legacy in a different way
    I will revitalise the mourning into celebrations set
    for a glorious day
    I will understand that the need to be free and wild
    reside on the very same occasion,
    instant are potent notions, understandings
    but, as confusions that will weigh down your heart
    as innocent mirth fills my soul
    and I glance down
    at the soil where I buried those sunflower seeds
    with sunshine water and smiles
    I gave them my emotions I gave them my all and now the wreath I disrobe
    take away that layer that protected me
    brown-green pine needles, Christmassy armour
    and I remember with sadness how I felt
    recalling that other
    that moment when I carried heartache almost eternally
    and felt that suffering (suffering) as I stiffened with vile intent
    of precarious ascent
    my chest rises my chest heaves
    my mind begs for insistence
    to leave leave leave this scene
    I don’t need to view your final resting place
    I don’t need to understand why you fled my life
    my state
    and though you still exist, and elsewhere live
    it’s as though you are dead to me
    I carry your wreath
    I yield all your suffering
    I beg for you to remember
    always remember me
    that love you perpetually felt from
    innocent naive me.  
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (13/12/21) 
    Photo by Teodora Popa Photographer on Unsplash

    Previous Post: reflection – 13/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘Wreathed Perpetually’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • Poem: disarmed – 12/12/21

    Poem: disarmed – 12/12/21

    change is as impermanent as the irreverent footsteps
    brushing against the floorboards  
    then carpeted pavement
    travelling toward the bedroom door for a glimmer
    of your strength as your heart it beats quietly in slumber
    days well spent days well spent
    I sigh to myself for I see the journey within your nightly trials
    in your eyes sparkles glimmer
    alterations to be observed and saved
    soul shimmers

    you altered your life path
    you designed a new trial to be outlasted and
    mistakes made wittingly
    aside and cast
    you grew in redemption
    a beautiful soul reflection
    sewn regeneration
    flowering ascension
    imperfect connections
    yet perfect corrections
    as bold and wondrous as the claret flowing through
    your bursting spirit
    your special soul
    need I, dare I mention?
    the colours of your fall,
    the shade of your winter soul,
    the spring in your flowering steps,
    the beautiful summer sunset,
    you are evolving as you become the centre,
    the One,
    I’m torn – do I let you sleep
    or wake you, embrace you,
    snuffling warmth?

    I just want to encourage you
    congratulate you
    for the change that’s become of you
    your flight path
    nothing to fear
    no harm,
    you’ve made it through the danger zone
    and blissfully
    grinningly
    I see you hovering and soaring above
    that former storm.
    well done, my lovely,
    well done.
    my heart you have eternally disarmed.  
    (09/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Previous Post: personal astronomy – 12/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock