Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: creative writing

  • Prose: A Foretelling Sense of Importance – 27/05/21

    Prose: A Foretelling Sense of Importance – 27/05/21

    I prioritise the things that are important, so too, the people in my life. I acknowledge every moment, but I magnify the truth behind what’s necessary or needed. What is unnecessary will fall by the wayside; I must work to the best of my ability to sort the endangered from the general herd. And to understand that people bless me with their presence, with a smile, a tilted upward nod, a wink and a half, knowing that they’re instilling their emotions and feeling, well, this is a sign of their efforts to form a second’s connection – their own sense of priority, a type of gentle dedication.

    I feel a sense of progress travel with me while everything paves the way for me. I watch as the invitingly tactile moss rises from the cracks in between the pavers, slowly, slowly, I know that it will become plentiful, these rows, with time. And softened like green clouds, upon them I could rest my head, sleeping in a state of fitful rest, that, with a heart so heavy, could carry nothing else but what is already inside of me.

    One who can foretell the future through their writing – is it what you would call an intuit, or something else? For when I prioritise with words, my messy cursive, my gentle, haphazard scrawl, I detail that which becomes strangely relevant into the future days: ideas, feelings, formulae. It’s oddly relevant, this is what I have to say. Perhaps my subconscious forewarns and foretells, and it is up to me to discern which way my truths should be taken – warnings or fate, these would, by then, have already been spelled, typed, and saved, hypotheticals and predictions become reality to be seen, shall I become yet amazed? No, but I will take heed of what has been written upon my page.

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

    Previous Post: ‘A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen’ – 26/05/21

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  • Poem: Serendipity – 05/05/21

    Poem: Serendipity – 05/05/21

    My eyes digest the scene before me,
    taking in every minute detail.
    I cannot fathom what is greeting me,
    but my appreciation,
    it will never cease nor fail.

    The Universe has sent this beauty and perfection,
    I am delighted by the colours,
    so bright,
    surging are my emotions,
    I have all the time I need
    in this life,
    a moment of delightful contemplation.

    I am permitted the pleasure of
    eyes being treated to richness and truth,
    the glowing sun,
    the blossoming daffodils,
    the beds of other flowers
    spread through and through.

    I trail my dress as I lithely
    walk the paths
    of the quiet garden where
    flora becomes anew,
    these delights help the world through their abundance,
    I create with them,
    pluck, pick, and arrange,
    trailing thoughts on an off-white page.

    I say yes,
    I affirm my existence
    within this bubble of a world,
    the scent, while maybe overwhelming,
    wraps its arms around me,
    Serendipity, Serendipity,
    my presence has a requirement,
    a gentle, humble need to tell.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Luminescent – 02/05/21

    Poem: Luminescent – 02/05/21

    The Moon in all his glory, 
    pale, craggy, yet luminescent, 
    he smiles down upon our Earth
    as though in a parody,
    a soft spot held for us, and meant. 

    The Sun, she tries to jostle with him
    for pride of place in the sky, 
    I laugh, shake my head to myself, 
    I don’t bother to ask her why. 

    They can and do co-exist, 
    but one’s more prominent
    than the other, 
    I don’t have to, 
    need to mention
    who begs for more or less power. 

    Demand much from the clouds
    and they may wink 
    before the Sun or Moon, 

    obscure them from our eyes, 
    us mere humans on this Earth, 
    here to appreciate the 
    glowing orbs hanging from the sky on high.

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

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  • Poem: Stagnated Time – 01/05/21

    The minutes seem so long,
    the second-hand drags like
    fingernails in sand and broken glass,
    I’m impatient to know the answer,
    but I’m terrified to even ask.

    Tell me, what point is there
    in waiting,
    in watching the vapour of my breath
    cloud my vision, obscure with fog?
    The truth we will discover yet.
    I refuse to beg or sob.

    Ache not for the present, but recall tremors from the past,
    patiently, patiently, 
    in due course, 
    is it right to ask?

    I shall not flounder in my need, 
    in my desire to know, 
    better still lay the questions down to rest,
    I have no right to request, 
    nor you any obligation to let me know. 

    Would functionality take over
    if the seconds were given a chance
    to catch up with each other, 
    suddenly, a minute seems too fast. 
    The seconds trip and fall on one another, 
    clumsily, then altogether.

    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Logan Armstrong on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Moving on Out – 30/04/21

    Poem: Moving on Out – 30/04/21

    Image drawn by myself, 2019

    Things may seem unwarranted,
    like the Universe has delivered ‘unfair’,
    and mental aches pain you from knowing
    that from this place,
    you’ll soon have to vacate here.

    But know that while
    you’ve been dealt certain undesirable cards,
    feel the warmth and concern of others,
    you don’t need to trip, 
    nor fall hard. 

    How to escape a circumstance
    you particularly are loathe to leave?
    Much rather remain, would you, 
    I can see, feel this, 
    the worry on your face,
    the heartache worn on your sleeve. 

    Try not to yearn for something 
    which can no longer be,
    perhaps a new beginning
    is awaiting you, 
    maybe soon you will see. 

    All these material possessions
    which once held great import, 
    toss them aside, 
    it’s time to lighten yourself, 
    and stridently move forward. 

    And remember when you’re feeling sad,
    or particularly low, 
    I’ll always be here to listen, 
    provide kind words, support, 
    this you must already understand
    and know. 

    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Beautiful Soul – 29/04/21

    Poem: Beautiful Soul – 29/04/21

    Sustaining the high energy 
    of the beautiful vitality within thy soul, 
    watch as it trickles through the gaps visible 
    in the aura that surrounds you whole. 

    You are wonderful just the way you are, 
    the courteous, gentle being who sings slightly off-key,
    it is permissible to be less than perfect, 
    because this is what I have to say freely:

    Imperfection is beauty, as a wise woman once had said, 
    your perfection lies in the moments when your heart is beating –
    that’s always… 

    You easily keep promises to yourself, 
    honouring what you call for, 
    what you beg for with a smile,
    more, and more, and more… 

    The grimaces are gone, 
    they are done for, done for, 
    that’s what I have to say, 
    and treasured is everything, partially, 
    of what I know,
    expressions of true friendship, always.

    It seems that specific people will always be there
    for me, 
    it appears that they aren’t the ones 
    who we expected them to be, 
    but I treasure the new alliances made, 
    I am safe to be safe, as are you.
     
    It is safe for us to live in these bodies, 
    it is acceptable and right to express ourselves,
    we should appreciate our splendid uniqueness, 
    and when the flight of our souls occurs, 
    we shall grasp our lives again whole.

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

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  • Poem: Spiritual Names – 25/04/21

    Poem: Spiritual Names – 25/04/21

    A name rolled off the tongue, 
    started with a stammer, ended with an “A”, 
    I was not upset, I would not be swayed, 
    I was not irritated, I would not be saddened, 
    I would not allow myself to feel hurt or even 
    burdened or betrayed. 

    A slip of the tongue, 
    shall we look this up? 
    Perhaps a spiritual name, 
    underlying of sorts. 

    And then we found it, 
    beautiful description, 
    suited to a T, 
    was this the Universe’s way of highlighting 
    its secret name for me?

    As I read on, 
    I smiled, 
    it described me in ways that fit, 
    although there was some advice I didn’t agree with, 
    I wouldn’t allow my heart to dip –

    I remember at a time wondering what or even if 
    I had a soul name for me, 
    or whether it was what I was named by my loved ones, 
    Miss Lauren M, the assigned name for me. 

    Have I now discovered my spiritual name? 
    Perhaps, perhaps I have not, 
    but the process was lovely all the same, 
    and I liked reading those kindly written words, 
    and for the one who rolled off the name from his tongue, 
    his real name is meant to remain, 
    maybe the same is to be spoken for my chosen, given name.

    Maybe there’s no need to search for something else 
    when there’s no need to replace.

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

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  • Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Poem: Losing Control – 18/04/21

    Losing control,
    walking on a tightrope,
    hurled on a high swing,
    abandoning all that I do not want,
    can signal the end of everything.

    Sweetness in all its magic,
    is temptation as it comes,
    the palatable,
    the rush,
    the seeming goodness,
    the body screams for it,
    by eleven, the damage is done.

    Little pieces initially,
    then vacuuming that room,
    inhaling without true consciousness,
    not even savouring the feeling,
    this feeling I wish to be rid of soon.

    For if it’s acknowledged,
    won’t that mean it’s fine for pleasure to return?
    I’ve spent months on end denying the joy
    of consumption,
    and now, here, look at me now…

    Unravelling the habit?
    Denying myself,
    creating a disservice?
    I’m not sure if I should surrender,
    but what I know is

    I should be grateful,
    I should be thankful,
    trust me, in ways I am,
    but the mindset I want, need, have to retain,
    it cannot be thrust aside,
    if so, well, I’ll be damned.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash.

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  • Poem: Hush – 15/04/21

    Poem: Hush – 15/04/21

    Sometimes I want to be quiet, 
    far from conceited, too loud and proud, 
    humble is what I will be, 
    I’ll smile before I speak, 
    think before I utter, aloud. 

    Quiet contemplation
    is what is needed in this case, 
    I won’t allow my heart to fail me,
    should these words, lest they go to waste.

    I know it is important 
    to take time to speak with ease, 
    I know it is wise, once more, 
    to not permit the certain need

    to be heard all the time, 
    to be boisterous and child-like, 
    but how can I alter
    when I feel so under attack
    with these utterances of mine?

    So, hushed is what I’ll be, 
    if I don’t speak, 
    there will be no analysis of me, 
    no written conjectures, 
    no debates of sorts, 
    I will be hush, hush, hushed, 
    and that’s the style I choose, 
    no need to consort. 

    But will silence really save me?
    I’ll learn to care not for judgements,
    I’ll dust them away with pleasure and ease,
    an ultimate form of deliverance,
    can’t you see, won’t you see?

    And in the end they’ll all be appeased,
    no need to hear from,
    let’s have a break from prattling about me,
    is that what they want,
    is that what they need?
    Or only momentarily will the silence be required
    to be?

    I must remember this is for me,
    my mental health is most important, too,
    let me chase the feeling of being free,
    my time here will be in lieu,
    silence can speak of many golden truths.

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

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  • Prose: Ghosts – 12/04/21

    Prose: Ghosts – 12/04/21

    I will detail a peculiar incident that I once experienced. One might attribute it to tiredness, others to something more intriguing and perhaps with some elements that could be further looked into upon then, and future nights. 

    As I rest upon the couch, I close my eyes and strangely experience this golden sensation of euphoria. It is like white lace woven with golden, glistening lace, and around my forehead I feel this certain aura. It’s odd, this sensation, it is one like a state of bliss, it is encompassing my upper face now and throbbing almost from within. Suddenly, something mischievous and perhaps malicious passes through me and then I am wearing this slightly deranged grin upon my face. It’s as though a spirit has overtaken me for the moment, and now gone is the white and golden lace. I remark to my friend close by that to me, its colour is that of deep purple and black; he humours me, I suspect, but he wants to leave this spiritual talk at that. 

    “Are you returning to when you wanted to see ghosts again?” he asks. I don’t know what he’s talking about, I can’t remember those times at all, they must have long passed. I scoff at him, tell him I’m not looking for ghosts, but was there something here, that passed by, I wondered, aloud? 

    “Sensations can be powerful,” he replied simply, and with a slight, and worried shrug. I’m not concerned. Though, of these sensations I am mildly curious enough. 

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

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