Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: creative writing

  • Poem: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21

    Poem: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21

    Living for the momentum and
    living for the dream,
    thoughts tossed,
    bruised and broken,
    living despite ill feeling.

    The circumstances are these:
    I do not taunt, I do not tease,
    I live above and beyond,
    how I experience the world,
    predication, I know it, for these.

    Warble yet, my dear swan,
    gangly neck though thee has,
    I do not know, do not know,
    whether the games played,
    stone’s thrown,
    will seriously cause another to
    come undone,
    thoughts expelled,
    contemplative or mad.

    The truth, the fact of the matter is,
    I’m rather like my own swan of truth,
    interweaving elegance and wings which flap
    with ease,
    bright glide and there’s no other
    than that another,
    who knows of my true crazy patterns
    they’re lived, so breathed,
    within, deep personal power.

    For it is with fluidity, with comfortability,
    that I have been allowed to define,
    contemplation, rumination, no stagnation,
    progress within this virulent nation,
    why, is this not a sight for sorry eyes?

    Treasuring this life as mine,
    gracious though precious be,
    I am grateful for my life situation,
    so much is calling unto me.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Refractions – 09/08/21

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  • Poem: Refractions – 09/08/21

    Poem: Refractions – 09/08/21

    The growling primal fear
    which rears its head
    dances its eyes over our
    circumstance,
    and in a plethora of
    understanding
    it wisely retreats into
    the distance,
    pillars surround us
    as petals, thrown,
    fall from invisible hands.

    The area we find ourselves in
    beckons to outsiders
    near and far,
    cajoling them,
    calling them in,
    to come join
    the party,
    if one could call
    it this,
    we are prisms within
    shafts of light,
    sensing deep within.

    And so, we carry on,
    dispel any negativity,
    growth is a factor,
    plurals multiply,
    lace-widths of sin
    and unroll do these errors from past, future and
    unknowns,
    our history determines
    how much we want  
    others to know.

    So, wary are we,
    these refractions dance so thin,
    like slicing daggers into
    unwanted entities,
    our lovers hear and own
    everything that shouldn’t
    be seen,
    as though thickets,
    deep brush,
    slash, gash, branches
    not so tough,
    do and say are different things,
    but results matter most,
    is what some might say.

    Thinning out,
    excavating memories of time,
    white-hot circumstance,
    disallowing swallows flighty times,
    drift away from that sea
    that calls and calls,
    deep swells for you,
    and for me – well,
    I’m tackle what I am given,
    arrivederchi.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Emma on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Shade – 07/08/21

    Previous Post: Rose – 07/08/21

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  • Poem: Shade – 07/08/21

    Poem: Shade – 07/08/21

    Light and shade,
    I sweep the curtains shut,
    keeping creeping moody blues
    in mind,
    seems they’ll never stop.

    Heaving and breathing,
    huffing and a-puffing,
    affected am I this night,
    heathens nesting in the room
    from dawn until morning light.

    Struggles to create
    in a manner bright and saved,
    annoyances in the gutter,
    when will my thoughts be tamed?
    For I am ailing, but to some,
    no matter, I’m the one
    who should troupe on regardless
    of what I’m lacking in
    my personal power.

    I loathe, I hate,
    this weakness in myself,
    the inability to say no,
    wanting to please,
    keep their flashy smiles
    in a row,
    whilst I, I sit here in pain,
    distended dreams,
    dreamt in vain,
    upon the moody windowpane,
    trickles of falsified tears,
    rain trails there to be admired,
    cleansed pathways reverse-inked
    in droves.

    Light and shade calls forth
    but all that seems present
    is shade and shadows thrown,
    there is no sunrise rising,
    no beauty in my morning,
    I mourn for things which I yearned for,
    calling,
    yowling presence causes progress
    to begin stalling.

    The bracken in this bonfire
    lit by a little match,
    how small a thought can then
    become an inferno,
    developing into disgust in myself
    as of late,

    what happened to living my
    best life,
    I’m exhausted to the point
    I cannot breathe…
    stifling this shallow breath,
    for recycled air,
    I begin to heave and heave.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Rafael Leão on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Distance – 06/08/21

    Previous Post: Open Arms – 05/08/21

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  • Poem: Rose – 07/08/21

    Poem: Rose – 07/08/21

    What we are and what we feel are
    two different concepts,
    notions I need to feel,
    I watch from within as thoughts build and layers
    harden then peel
    like ancient flakes of house paint decorating
    that life we accepted and treasured within,
    I know through deep understanding
    that each flake tells a story,
    it’s witnessed so much of life
    to be felt, heard, and seen.

    What I feel is a blossoming,
    a wafting rose developing,
    from a tiny elaborate bud into
    much,
    much more,
    complexities created,
    so much in store,

    her fragrance is intoxicating,
    I do not yearn for anything but her
    in the morning,
    a pin-pricking, her warning,
    to be gentle with her,
    patience never stalling.

    A petal drops –
    by goodness, what a shame,
    her story is unfolding,
    but losing beauty? –
    should the ache in my heart refrain?
    Because it is with dying that she is
    breathing life,
    to live is to expire,
    but to experience is proof of internal fire.

    And her flames are astounding,
    she’s alive, so vivid now,
    effervescent, glowing
    the flakes of paint fall into an inferno,
    fuelling her understanding
    that to live is to capture and incinerate
    what the world deems as beauty,
    there’s much more to her presence,
    behind there is more than a duty,
    it’s a requirement fulfilled morally.

    And it is with experience that she
    continues to grow,
    her form is not lopped,
    stunted growth,
    to entertain others with her vision,
    with her dangerous thorns
    as protection,
    for her wonder in the morning
    and beyond,
    we think, we feel,
    we consider what she does,
    what notions there are to accept,
    as necessary?

    Sometimes it’s required that our awareness
    is measured,
    and our hearts, oh, our hearts,
    must begin to beat harder,
    no option for slowing,
    no option for stalling,
    they should continue to beat fiercely,
    uncontrollably.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Meghan Schiereck on Unsplash


    Previous Post: Distance – 06/08/21

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  • Poem: Distance – 06/08/21

    Poem: Distance – 06/08/21

    the distance between myself and the south side
    of that road,
    the longest path I’m sure some have
    ever known,
    try to tiptoe along the lane,
    whisper under breath,
    assertions born tame,
    but they are still valid,
    present they be,
    a jolt, a justification seems questionable,
    but in the end, both visions and truth
    are vividly seen as the same.

    and now, as I wander down
    the evergreens which line
    the pavement, luscious trees,
    ever beautiful, ever seen,
    flourishing, blossoming,
    while I, I circumspect,
    within there is much to
    be seen.

    what to view? you might wonder,
    as I physically wander, whilst I myself wonder,
    there seems not much, but there is
    too much to ponder,
    I must make allowances,
    the membrane of my mind is
    calling for something more,
    to comprehend, from yonder,
    what’s awaiting me,
    what’s in store?

    let me see what there is to gain
    from dancing through rapid-cycling
    thought trains,
    take a ride on the great red caboose,
    the trajectory, its path,
    there is much to transport,
    have I the capacity, mental fuel?
    why, of course I do.

    and as I hop aboard this vehicular entity,
    parading around the south side with
    ridiculous ease,
    I no longer wonder,
    and damned will I be to wander,
    when I can take the heights of self-indulgence
    to an nth degree,
    carry it around with me

    with great honour.

    and prismatic will that be,
    rainbow glow, hues,
    spectacularly,
    I’m not afraid to show a glimmer,
    a glittering
    fantastically,
    ride those streams of consciousness,
    bare the nudity that comes with
    baring one’s soul freely.

    there’s no ego,
    no arrogance,
    when all I wanted
    was to share a window within.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Caleb Jones on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Open Arms’ – 05/08/21

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  • Prose Poetry: Elusive Sleep – 03/08/21

    Prose Poetry: Elusive Sleep – 03/08/21

    Sleep. How it escapes, evades my very fingertips. When I reach out, fingernails scrabbling, hoping for a hint of rest, my aching heavy lids are calling. I am in a state of unrest, my mind is anything but heightened, I need the numbness to wash over me, repair the intensity from the day prior. I need to rest, but, I cannot, I cannot will myself into a state of slumber. Sometimes I am stubborn and don’t wish for the darkened cover, for haven in darkness, dangling from consciousness’ precipice until the web is severed, and I’m beneath, in the lake of swimming nightmares with the rest of them.

    I do not need sleep, or does sleep need me? Preposterous, this claim, it does seem. The very fabric of my mind is wearing ragged and thin, existing in a state of stunned surprise when I force my eyes wide and brighten them to take my surroundings in. Taking in their fill. But unappreciative, as a slight, because I was told sight was not urgent, improvements were required but not yet, and so, I exist on a diet of blurred visions and occasionally barked words.  

    But Sleep, my antisocial friend, who only wants to attend for four hours or five, then sweep himself away, without a word to say, leaving me groggy, thirsty, and ill at ease in the dead of night, wishing for even an extra hour that he had stayed. Quality sleep never comes, in fact, so rarely does he attend that some cruel puppet master might as will be silently phasing out the timbre. Yellow, yellow, what a beautiful colour. Yellow conjures up such a cheery disposition, a shining timbre.

    Oh, how I need sleep, before I launch into emotions, feelings, about colour association, so replete!

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Megan te Boekhorst on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Living my Best Life – 01/08/21

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  • Poem: Welcome Visitors – 31/07/21

    Poem: Welcome Visitors – 31/07/21

    Away with me as I fly
    to sea,
    watching the world fall beneath me,
    I am free
    to see the wonder and
    the mess of my land,
    that space in between
    falsity and reality,

    I need to realise the scarcity
    of danger does not mean
    that it is non-existent, but rather
    it is there lurking,
    waiting,
    attempting to gain its
    personal power,
    but what is the point in delving
    when no one is there to commence caring,
    to begin embracing,
    to be there, understanding,
    baring my soul
    for a silent audience?
    Shall I ever know?

    Did my words have any impact,
    will their truths finally be shown?

    I realise the long and short of the matter is
    that if I soared, on my own accord,
    there is no need to be admired,
    or reassured,
    no requirement to be acknowledged,
    a certain word barrage,
    and then I will know,
    to myself, that there is
    a time,
    a place,
    a space,
    for when I will be known for the words
    that I have sewn.

    The cobwebs can remain in my room
    for as long as they like,
    because the host,
    their lady with the most,
    will always be home.

    She will greet you when you arrive.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Pezibear from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Morning Walks’ – 31/07/21

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  • Poem: Strive – 28/07/21

    Poem: Strive – 28/07/21

    Consciousness creates change
    as I travel down a new path,
    my negative thoughts alter themselves,
    a turning point, a fork in the road,
    I do not beg to ask,
    consciousness is what creates our reality,
    I become what I think about, the most,
    my reflections flash as I stare into a clearing pond,
    eyes of goldfish bulge and bond,
    their gaze adjoins with mine,
    their forms start to bob,
    they rise for more,
    they learn to trust,
    a human with gentleness for them as one.

    I will never reach a point
    where I’m wholly complete,
    to finish this existence early,
    why, a thought ever so dreary,
    never having to reach for improvements,
    never again experiencing eternal growth,
    manifesting more,
    more,
    aligning my journey is required,
    to become in a way I’ve never known.

    While I am enough and enough is
    what I shall perhaps remain,  
    understanding the rise and fall of my life
    in parts and in its entirety,
    manifesting, creating,
    knowing,
    differences yet still the same,
    using the negative moments that allow me
    to know what is unwanted,
    and what can be improved on to rise forth,
    and grasp hold tightly, so firmly, upon this ride,
    a personal state of feeling so utterly divine.

    I will strive to feel good no matter what,
    whatever the situation or travesty,
    I will distract myself from pains and lack of
    positive source wholly and knowingly,
    altering my judgement,
    my anger and sadness from me,
    focus on the future,
    on all things possessing positivity.

    There is much work to be done,
    I acknowledge this myself,
    so much time has been spent
    wrecking myself,
    I need to undo the harm,
    backtrack the repeated mistakes,
    unravel the consciousness
    and become more, more,
    like I’ve tried to,
    and am trying to,
    as of late.

    A picture is worth more than I can currently accommodate.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Flushed Magnolias’ – 28/07/21

    Previous Post: ‘Rows of Rosies’ – 26/07/21

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  • Poem: Rows of Rosies – 26/07/21

    Poem: Rows of Rosies – 26/07/21

    Rows and rows of rosies,
    we bend and sniff,
    achoo,
    we’ve more to fear these days
    than an ancient dreaded plague or flu,

    we link arms,
    ring-a-rosies,
    we hold each other tight,
    we’re here for all
    through thick and thin,
    through harsh morn’ scratchings
    and eerie dead of night.

    The home becomes a zone
    where no fresh soul shall pass,
    each contagion has already been
    unknowingly passed.

    Families isolate,
    quarantine with hope,
    watching loved ones repair themselves,
    immunity must grow,
    it’s the only option they must know.

    Recovery, or treatment
    when possible,
    required if ease of breath abates,
    this playtime of ring-a-rosies
    has been forgotten as of late,
     
    but still we all link arms,
    hold each other tight,
    spin, focus now, less our prior delight,
    for it is with determination,
    solidarity and fight,
    that we will win these battles,
    calm seeps into our nights.   

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Kate Greenaway in ‘Mother Goose’, sourced from Wikimedia, use under Public Domain

    Previous Post: ‘Perfect Imperfections’ – 24/07/21

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  • Poem: Luminous – 22/07/21

    Poem: Luminous – 22/07/21

    I am brightness within eyes and
    air between wings,
    rise with me,
    moods heightened,
    how amazing salvation is.

    I have been forgiven and it was
    granted many years before,
    acceptance, realisation,
    have long been in the making,
    my life, my world,
    I now treasure, I adore.

    Acknowledgement of the
    gravity of my former situations,
    I know now how darkly luminous my fate glowed,
    insinuations,
    whilst glowering were heavy eyes
    above my form,
    their unhappy windows,
    but still they watched over me,
    for then, for future tomorrows –

    I had protection from angels,
    from generations of loved ones,
    from heaven above,
    and the benevolent calming God.

    How else could I describe my survival —
    triumphs over tribulations,
    scraped stifling walls for air,
    learned to be humble,
    in reality, I could be away from here,
    six feet under,
    or scattered in pieces,
    what a moment to comprehend,
    how one might shudder.

    I lived under calculated stares,
    by some, I suspect I was abhorred,
    raging thoughts,
    temporary damning thunder,
    they’ve forgotten with time,
    softness beneath me grows,
    a sense of quiet personal power.

    An important being to some, to many?
    Yet to others, a nameless entity,
    and now here I am,
    within the arms of comfortability,
    of safety,
    and most grateful I am,
    gracious in Life’s undertaking,
    because I know,
    I understand,
    I comprehend that my place within this world
    is something to respect,
    for I have been spared from a fate
    potentially dared and wiped,
    into nothingness I would have become,

    obliterated,
    faceless, lost,

    yet here I am,
    saved,
    like a turtledove
    I have returned to the flock.

    I am at one with them,
    I am treasured,
    I am youthful yet I am growing old,
    life is amazing once I’ve accepted it,
    truth be told:

    of its glorious moments
    there are so many forthcoming, past and current,
    of Life’s glorious abundance,
    I am sold.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Monica Turlui from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Waltz’ – 20/07/21

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