Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: creative writing

  • Poem: New Beginnings – 05/10/20

    Poem: New Beginnings – 05/10/20

    With new beginnings comes new struggles,
    everything seems somewhat unfamiliar and
    disconcerting because you’re away from normal calm,
    and closer to the potential for failure and sorrows.

    You don’t know how to proceed,
    how to process,
    who to turn to,
    it used to be the norm,
    now the situation is alien to you,
    and here you are,
    all you wanted was to do was learn.

    It’s been so many years,
    you don’t know how to navigate,
    but it is new,
    it is different,
    please be kind to yourself,

    you can take the time to retrain,
    to understand the system,
    it shouldn’t be so difficult,
    in the end
    others have performed these tasks
    themselves with their own forms of wisdom,
    and so can you, too.

    What is life without struggles,
    what is personal growth without
    a degree of discomfort,
    the initial stretch of yourself
    to be become a better person
    often begins with some form
    of duress.

    And what say you to running away
    from it all,
    hiding your head in the sand
    or under a rock,
    no, that is for people who give up
    on challenges,
    and you’re not one of these
    people,
    that trait is nowhere to be seen
    within you.

    So, strengthen yourself,
    understand that you must troupe on,
    begin the fight,
    begin the process of relearning and
    carrying on
    because you’ve committed to it,
    and this is the right thing to do,

    be proud of where you are now,
    at the beginning,
    where it will all restart,
    the journey,
    the journey,
    another one is commencing at last.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Rolling Waves and Green Pastures – 02/10/20

    Poem: Rolling Waves and Green Pastures – 02/10/20

    Rolling waves in my mind pass by,
    sumptuous, decadent,
    tidal, in their own time,
    I smile to myself as I feel the ebb and the flow
    of my thoughts travel singularly
    then as one,
    a conglomeration of multitudes,
    my will,
    coming along so beautifully,
    they could temporarily stun.

    This is my time,
    my springtime of my middle youth,
    where I have now grown and prematurely gone to pasture
    and I am taking in all I can,
    this is truth.

    I am relaxing in my moments,
    I am sinking in the hay,
    I am enjoying the fresh wind,
    the air,
    the breeze,
    it softens me,
    I smile to myself,
    and I wish that I could stay.

    I am at one with this world,
    I am becoming the strength I’ve long searched for,
    what I’ve needed,
    what I’ve come to depend upon others for,
    but now I am powerful,
    and I can ride those waves as though upon a creature
    battling the crests,
    with magical chimes and
    announcements sounding all around
    that I have arrived.

    I am profound,
    or at least, I believe I am,
    I hear these sounds,
    I take in the smiles,
    the welcoming body language and calls
    of my family,
    from the land, the water,
    the pastures,
    oh, such wanted sounds.

    I am accepted,
    but more importantly,
    I am accepting myself finally,
    I am here,
    in mind, body and spirit,
    finally,
    as one, not separate entities,

    and off the cuff,
    I compose gentle words in my mind
    as I watch the waves
    rise and fall,

    my heart,
    my mind,
    my presence,
    I will accept myself,
    flaws and all.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Coming Home – 01/10/20

    Poem: Coming Home – 01/10/20

    Coming home,
    returning to that comfort,
    grasping onto something that will make
    her feel some level of homeliness.

    Away for a time,
    in a foreign place,
    alone, mostly,
    far from loved ones.

    Recovering, recovering,
    she’s been so strong thus far,
    we’re so proud of her,
    I wish she’d know this.

    Coming home, shall she return to our arms,
    our welcoming this day?
    An outpouring of comfort,
    of care, concern,
    our desire to attend to all her needs,
    come what may.

    She has provided for us all,
    she has lived her life in willing servitude
    to ensure we have been given the
    best possible upbringing,
    and now is time to return the loving kindness,
    we are always here for you, Mother,
    please know this.

    Beckon and call as much as you please,
    we will be here to listen, give,
    whatever you need,
    if you request hours of rest,
    we’ll allow you that, too,
    even if we want to be close to you.

    To hear your wise words,
    your perspective on the world,
    your advice,
    your experiences,
    your frustrations, fears,
    pains,
    future dreams,

    I am all ears,
    I am here, willing to be,
    here for you,
    listening,
    in whole, not part,
    in all,
    everything.

    Let us roll away the painful headaches,
    the sorrows,
    the calamities within our minds,
    let us deal with the blow upon blow
    because progress is on the horizon,
    future brightness is what we like.

    Allow us to understand that we are on
    this journey together,
    that we will make it through with each other,
    there’s not much to understand further,
    we will fight this battle together.

    Thank you for everything,
    I hope strong Father returns home today
    accompanied by my brave, courageous mother.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Irina Iriser on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Suggestions – 30/09/20

    Poem: Suggestions – 30/09/20

    I can attempt to suggest,
    not forcefully,
    but subtly,
    allowing another to view
    from a different perspective.

    To take into account
    other angles of a problem
    and what can be
    done to cure what is
    ailing them.

    If not, altered alleviation
    can be key
    to disallowing inner frustrations,
    potential travesty,
    but only if the other
    is open –
    I only wish to promote
    self-healing.

    Unlocking those doors,
    breaking down those walls,
    allowing assistance in,
    I’m more than willing to listen,
    but hark,
    let me explain another position,
    there’s more than one way
    to describe Life’s unwanted conditions.

    I can extend my care,
    I wish to be supportive
    and understand
    the stressors,
    have them heard,
    felt, shared,

    but in the end
    I hope we can find
    a positive direction,
    not end up with us
    travelling in an argumentative direction.

    It’s important,
    I hope it’s known,
    that I do want,
    wish to be here
    and attend,

    but together let’s
    work at solving
    the problem
    with positivity,
    we can make a change of that
    poorly dealt hand.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Everton Vila on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Doubt – 29/09/20

    Poem: Doubt – 29/09/20

    Doubt niggles at me,
    pokes and gently prods as though irritating me to
    look at it.
    To understand my imperfections,
    my soul’s tiredness at having to point out
    these flaws,
    why do I feel unworthy for the Universe?

    But it’s nothing to do with that,
    it has everything to do with my perception,
    the way I look up to appreciate the heavens,
    within my heart I can grasp its acceptance,
    so why can’t I apply the same small principles to myself?

    Doubt is an insipid disease which weaves its way
    not only through your bloodstream
    but inside your marrow.
    It can become a part of you.
    It can become lively within you,
    thriving on the seeds of self-doubt you’ve
    cast within you.

    Seeds down, spread for the next harvest,
    they promise wealth, abundance, safety, security,
    but what does my crop promise me when fruitful?
    The doubt, the doubt, the doubt,
    it encompasses me whole.

    I must learn to be more accepting of myself,
    turning what I view as negatives into positivity,
    healing,
    protagonist of my life am I,
    I need not remain at home lamenting,
    ultimate melancholy
    simply because every time I realise what
    my earthly home, my corporeal form has become,
    all I feel is quiet shame
    and then I need to be alone.

    I have allowed my growth to rise forth
    and to affect me
    in a negative manner,
    but isn’t the doubt what’s calling me to
    behave so unappreciative?
    I don’t mean it to be this way,
    won’t it rain, it rain, it rain?
    Under the cleansing clouds,
    I will exist,
    to feel their wondrous power.

    Physicality, it’s merely our lent forms
    which we occupy each day,
    best take advantage my time here of Earth
    because those passed seconds and minutes
    will never return again,
    they will never have the chance to be recovered.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Criativithy from Pexels

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  • Poem: An Awakening – 21/09/20

    Poem: An Awakening – 21/09/20

    The ambient music is comforting,
    soothing unto my soul,
    it makes me rise along with it,
    and when the melody sinks with satisfaction,
    my heartbeat ebbs,
    it flows.

    I relish these special times I have
    to appreciate the music in my abode,
    where I am left quietly,
    contemplatively,
    to myself.

    No noisy interruptions,
    no untoward commotions,
    just me and my heart beating,
    eyes brightened,
    with joy, oh, such joy.

    I’ve never felt so serene,
    and I’m doing this simply as I please,
    I am at ease,
    I am relaxed,
    it’s so nice to not feel the agitation and anger,
    disquieting at that.

    The internal cacophonies have finally ceased,
    there are no danger zones left for me
    to navigate, even if I pleased,
    for inside, I am calm,
    it has taken me so long,
    to come to terms with the
    noisiness that was hurting
    my soul.

    Why was I unsettled?
    Why such internal rage and anger?
    The self-hatred,
    the lashing out at others,
    feeling dissatisfaction with my life:
    it seemed a permanent fixture.

    But now, now,
    I feel both motivated and at peace,
    at finally truly making something of myself,
    my life,
    the times I ardently strove for success had seemed
    so far in the past
    that replication never seemed something I could dream of,
    reach for,
    or could personally seek.

    Now, now,
    I am stronger,
    and I feel the serenity sink into my muscles,
    into my bones,
    and make itself at home,
    I am finally at peace,
    and there is no need to feel anything less
    than – within my skin –
    perfectly at home.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Beautiful Tragedy – 18/09/20

    Poem: Beautiful Tragedy – 18/09/20

    Our love was a beautiful tragedy,
    we flourished from the taste
    of its existence,
    the way we reacted and acted was
    like that of a giggling pair of youths.

    But we lacked maturity,
    good times could not only be the
    ones had,
    falling into his eyes,
    his hurt,
    what did it truly mean?

    Listening to and sharing tales,
    the mutual opening up of
    old wounds,
    and while information was privileged,
    I sometimes felt ill-equipped
    to properly advise or comment.

    The tragedy behind our
    wall of defensiveness against the world,
    our fortress of affection
    which was mean to enclose,
    protect,
    preserve our magic,
    only to be seen, admired, and envied
    at certain times by others
    when we decided to be on display,

    the tragedy was that our perfect little bubble
    was our downfall,
    and a lacking of self-understanding
    on part of one or both –
    perhaps specifically one,
    perhaps it was me.

    The absence of self-awareness,
    a reasoning and knowledge
    of what was required,
    what was necessary for the
    growth of the heart
    could cause a cacophony,
    reverberations to be felt and heard
    for many an eve.

    Now truly seems the time to heal,
    I must attempt this;
    we must try our best to repair,
    cannot have one or the other disappear,
    a desire rise to vanish into thin air.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Morgan Sessions on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Dull Tongue – 15/09/20

    Poem: Dull Tongue – 15/09/20

    I must move on,
    my tongue, dull and tired, can no longer remain clipped.
    I must move forth, in realising I am deserving of much more.
    I must step forward, understanding that I am worthy,
    I am priceless,
    I must go on, because I am strong,
    I am wise,
    and I must exercise this intelligence.

    For many hours, I sat here bubbling and brewing,
    angrily explaining how I have been made to feel.
    For many a-time I have expounded over and over
    exactly how actions or inaction cause me to believe
    negative things about myself,
    that my presence is merely humoured,
    and I cannot help but feel insulted,
    when something apparently more interesting came along –
    there goes the desire for this contemplative yet fiery poet.

    But I must understand there is little point in chasing after Disinterest,
    little point in tapping him on the shoulder repeatedly,
    why, that would be remiss,
    because why humour that character,
    why allow him my attentiveness,
    in doing so,
    this will mentally continue to take me down,
    and I cannot have that,
    I must retain my level of sparkling self-confidence,
    my golden shining crown.

    I think it’s odd how easily I’ve been cast aside,
    how love could be expressed in this loveless kind of way,
    but in another way, I am rather happy I’ve discovered this so early,
    how easily I can be replaced,
    although the other will scream I’m not being replaced,
    that they are simply occupying themselves,
    keeping themselves entertained.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Hugo Jehanne on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Light on the Horizon – 13/09/20

    Poem: Light on the Horizon – 13/09/20

    What is this headiness I feel
    when I gaze into the horizon?
    The feeling that everything will be okay reassures me,
    calms me during this fine day.

    The tears wept and shed a night prior
    which wracked my soul and
    reminded me of the reality
    we all face here
    have caused my body to ache,
    my head to suffer,
    but now, no more.

    The release, the utter flooding of emotion
    was required at the time,
    and while I rarely sob,
    it was something I needed to own,
    I realised how I truly felt inside
    which I don’t acknowledge most times.

    But the headiness when I gaze into the horizon,
    the colourful morning canvas splashed with
    resonating fire and pastel caresses,
    the sight welcomes me and makes certain that I will feel its
    strength and beauty within me each moment
    that I recall the vision in my waking dreams.

    There is nothing to mourn,
    only that which I should cherish,
    the time together,
    the future and present moments in which
    my mother and I can meld
    our spoken dreams, our woven company.

    I will remember these times,
    events, no matter that they were
    sometimes taken for granted,
    our time here is actually so precious,
    each moment spent with her is
    downright momentous.

    I want to recall the precious times,
    not remember any negativity or suffering.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Laib Khaled on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Lean Upon Myself – 08/09/20

    Poem: Lean Upon Myself – 08/09/20

    For too long, I’ve leaned,
    I’ve learned to rest my
    weight on others,
    for opinions, advice,
    ears to hear,

    I haven’t trusted my intuition,
    it’s been absent,
    muted, or hidden,
    only my express interest
    for support and confirmation
    could be seen.

    Fierce independence: nil,
    where went that courageous
    go-getter who would
    present to the world, with utter thrill?

    I need to alter my practices,
    build myself as though a fortress,
    strength internally and externally,
    power to stand proud and true.

    I understand to do so
    is to step away from the
    comfort of others,
    build myself independently,
    stronger,
    and to know that in doing so
    it may be difficult,

    but in the end,
    the benefits will outweigh
    the monumental initial differences,
    the discomfort in beginning
    will pale in comparison to the future feelings
    of growth and personal victory.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Andriyko Podilnyk on Unsplash

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