Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: creative writing

  • Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Sometimes life won’t be perfect
    no matter how much you will it, 
    you adjust, you alter, 
    you are adamant, 
    yet plans, they falter,
    accept defeat, 
    you must admit this.  

    It does not matter how much we carry 
    wishes within us, 
    there are moments which will simply 
    flit out of the picture,
    the power within, 
    the strength which hardens us 
    can make us shudder, 
    and suddenly there’s that shattering, 
    the shattering of one’s perfect picture. 

    It shouldn’t matter that I can’t sit here and 
    share all the rest, 
    paint a scene for you to observe and for myself to reminisce,
    despite it all, despite my hopes, my dreams, 
    I want to move forward, and become much more
    than that which I yearned for 
    now and evermore,
     
    a glass-stained picture 
    which drips in brights, in hues, 
    in yellows, in blues, 
    and rectifies the scent of unwanted, sympathetic flowers,
    shall we begin anew?

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

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  • Poem: PRN – 26/01/21

    Poem: PRN – 26/01/21

    Look what they’ve done, 
    prescribed those tiny bullets,
    dissolving, smoking gun. 

    The lacklustre effect is taking, 
    lethargy, it is growing, 
    malaise, it is not helping, 
    boy, these tablets are not assisting. 

    But perhaps they’ll calm the mind
    in due time, 
    relax, replenish, 
    make the thoughts intertwine,
    as though ivy would, 
    or thin rope, 
    wound around and around, 
    gentle, 
    methodically, 
    the medication has brought hope. 

    Feeling less anxious now, 
    the PRN has made the world have less overwhelming, 
    in tow, 
    my ship is causing no drift, 
    I’m on crystalline waters, 
    with this agent, 
    there’s no need to think,
    the ability to relax is here and now,
    a wistful song, from inside my heart grows.
     
    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash

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  • Poem: A Distant Memory – 18/01/21

    Poem: A Distant Memory – 18/01/21

    Dream out loud,
    whispers soft and true,
    eyes paled in comparison,
    a certain IOU.

    Yowling at the outside,
    come within open arms,
    burrowing into the times,
    these times,
    some don’t need to employ any charms.

    You can exist and impart wisdom
    in the surest ways you know how,
    a sparkle, a glimmer,
    wipe away the traces of sinners,
    watch their opportune moments grow.

    It should not be so difficult
    to lay away those relics from the past,
    brighten your mind,
    illuminate,
    I don’t have much more I’d like to ask.

    The heat and the flames
    can engulf you as one and the same,
    if you allow them to breathe into your soul,
    I would sincerely ask the opposite of the process,
    impart it to your name.

    The cessation, the end,
    the oblivion,
    once abomination,
    cataclysmic in its explosion,
    douse the present in calming potion.

    And then you’ll love,
    you’ll live,
    with sweet winding repose,
    capture the freshest linen-sweet scents,
    let them dance within your nose.

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

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  • Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Written by myself, there were once great tales to tell,
    now my tongue falls flat and limp,
    it will not, I will not speak.

    Sharing out of turn can be most expensive,
    not financially but morally,
    how do we strip the obligation from our hands,
    cleanse our palms,
    something wise and sent,
    perfection slightly the same and honest?

    I wonder through my conscience,
    my moral set and case,
    please do what is right,
    a voice whispers to my eye,
    or third eye’s hearing even more.

    I will be the sweet princess,
    like an out-of-season Christmas tree still cheering
    the room,
    my scent, will long linger,
    rosemary, rosemary, rosemary.

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

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  • Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Brightness engulfs that wicked room
    where tales were never shared.
    Where fears, anxiety,
    irreverently unfold within the gloom,
    resting concerns upon one’s hands.

    There is a quietness which is perturbed
    by the stately arrival of glaring white
    and unnatural upheaval,
    a certain something,
    a funk, a stink,
    which would bring one to their knees,
    into the darkest of thickets,
    the tangled thorns, the trees, the thistles.

    Do not cry for the moment of lost opportune,
    do not grieve, neither mourn,
    there is no end, only if wished for soon,
    there is nothing worth feeling lost about,
    because the presence, she lingers,
    lingers in a manner that takes words straight
    from awe-struck mouths and fingers.

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

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  • Poem: Imagine – 08/01/21

    Poem: Imagine – 08/01/21

    Imagine a world where there was no rough,
    no deception,
    no lies,
    where words from saints,
    not sinners were more than enough.

    Where the angels dance upon clouds so light
    that I can barely control my immense delight,
    imagine a world where brightness is assured,
    we glow,
    they glow,
    among the great oblivious and unknown.

    Clipped contractions do not exist,
    allow the sunlight to bless with her breath the mist,
    strength in armour,
    strength in the soul,
    gather the heartstrings,
    envelope emotions whole.

    There is nothing more to say,
    but the words will be cast on,
    like little fairies they glide in the wind,
    gentle and sweet,
    reverent and strong.

    Acknowledge this world before you
    open your eyes,
    there’s nothing left to question,
    no fall left to take,
    no demise.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash

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  • Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Glaring, inquiring eyes
    inspecting through shopfront windows,
    what is it you seek?
    The girl in the crimson dress with white seams,
    is it she you are trying to find,
    do you desire her to speak?

    On edge,
    percolated by excess caffeine,
    anxiety rising,
    scenes perhaps more than what they seem,
    to her, everything seems suspicious,
    laden with layers of notions and commotions
    and terribly haunting dreams.

    Pressure is rising,
    shall there be a toast of prior predilections?
    Fight back the sleepiness of the morning,
    troupe around the neighbourhood,
    exercise and voices cheerily ringing?

    Stress, cortisol, tremors,
    won’t they be resolved?
    That feeling of edginess that screams
    so insipidity loud?

    Those pinpointed eyes as they pass within an
    expression of menace,
    the power of intimidation,
    she will acknowledge the look no more,
    to her, the forced inattention will make it less,
    she will not lock eyes with that stranger,
    there is not need for that physical test.


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

    Photo from Unsplash

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  • Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Ink and colours swirl and fly,
    admirably they meld into the other,
    watch our joy multiply.
    There’s not a moment too soon
    when we can reach into the stars,
    colours, outlines, so fantastical,
    we can hardly believe them ours.

    I know that these hues and shades
    might not be here forever,
    but I appreciate and accept,
    allow them to provide my eyes pleasure
    and favour while I introspect,

    I know not their meanings to you,
    but to me they are plentiful,
    wholesome,
    vivid, true,
    here’s what I’ve planned,
    I know not what with the colours
    you plan to do.

    Be delicate with them,
    I chide but smile,
    wonder not,
    the colours will remain for a long while,
    the moment of truth is when
    decisions are made with great charms,
    wondering, and wandering,
    into fields of open arms.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image by Jeremy Thomas, Unsplash.

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  • Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Perhaps some are meant to be
    apart for a while,
    to allow distance and the ability for
    truth to no longer be real.

    Imagination reigns without truth,
    what is that person seeing, feeling,
    what will they do,
    thoughts of them, I should really be
    immensely and measurably through.

    Delicate interventions,
    reaching out in a moment,
    wondering is no longer wondering
    because now there’s an
    ability to slightly see,

    Are there differences to be observed,
    are they selective,
    there to be heard?
    I know there are some changes,
    waiting to be discovered and learned.

    Brightened are they,
    with each moment they are heard,
    loneliness could have overwhelmed,
    must have caused great dismay,

    but I must tread delicately,
    not flit around too flashily or fancily,
    too much attention drawn could cause cracks to be seen and
    cause future suffering.

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

    Image from Unsplash.

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  • Poem: The Vision – 29/12/20

    Poem: The Vision – 29/12/20

    And the proof is in the vision,
    the truth is in the See,
    the horizon is there to be admired,
    by us, by you, by me.

    We have triumphed over that which
    causes us pain,
    let us relish the moments,
    the announcements,
    one and many the same.

    I think to myself often,
    what has become of them?
    I wonder to myself,
    where is their part in my rose’s stem?

    For the ability to have been supportive,
    to be there for me when I needed them most is,
    the proof is in the vision,
    my memories,
    they were there,
    perhaps as one in a million,
    they claimed to always care.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Chris Blonk on Unsplash

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