Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
the dance the flautist sweetly breezes her melody, I can barely hold myself together that breath which creates wonder not an insolent din, fires once raged and sins were born but hell hath no current feature, gone, perpetually, is that scorn!
Multifaceted and colours of the spectrum, a man romantic, with heart pounding for his love, eternal, to return to him again, their binding shade, deep violet, wondrous spiritual shade.
it is with joy that I thank this world that I live in,
Thank you so much to my good friend and fellow Melbourne creative, Braeden Kennedy (@bak_doodlin_again on Instagram) for drawing this amazing piece of art for me to set a poem to.
the waves take me on a journey where I’m lulled into a sense of security and notes like gentle hands wash over me, I am amazed and quiet, there is nothing remaining above the surface, a breath and I’m underneath, the seaweed, coral, clown fish are brighter than above-days,
with a dear friend around the lake I take a turn and admire ducks, smile at happy mothers children, and puppies with men. I am animated, she listens with quiet calm, by her side, I need no longer need take her arm, for days of physical support are not near, there’s nothing to help me, nor there to fear, while anxiety can burden, it’s not featuring here.
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.
even when I’ve not everything I need all aroundI have all I need when I’m herethe bare minimum does not contribute to any sense of gloomnor quaint snipey conversations within the roommy face doesn’t grow tired or longbecause I am here and nowand by my side is… you.I know you’re tired of the same old [...]
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 [...]
Image from Pixabay To bloom within means not unravelling oneself, not pulling apart the petals, but securing them to one’s own mooring, so she can be seen for who she truly is, and was and still is. Underneath all, she is full of goodness, despite the anger, the sadness, she has her own manner of [...]
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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