creative writing – Page 26 – Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Poem: The Queen Within my Heart – 07/09/20

The resident of my heart exists softly,
she doesn’t want to alarm or perturb,
she simply wants to be present,
there for the aching and the suffering,
to be able to offer some consoling,
some comfort
during times I’m self-annihilating.

I cannot help it;
sometimes I allow things to get to me,
people, events, expectations overwhelm me,
and this little vision in my chest,
with fairy wings and conjured sparkles,
brightened eyes,
she soothes me,
strokes my tender skin,
calms me each day she’s needed.

She does not ask for anything in return,
exists on mere air and my appreciation,
I am ever so thankful to have her around,
because, without her,
my soul might feel such internal damnation.

I am dramatic, I understand,
but without her there to guide with her gentle hand
I might feel lost and alone,
and angered by her apparent desertion
from my heart’s throne.

For she is queen within my beating chest,
she flits and rules quietly,
humble,
my fairy queen,
now here to counsel and guide me,
for the right choices,
the right feelings,
the right emotions,
her regulations,
her subtle rulings.

It is as though she’s visited and is remaining
only for me,
because she knows that I must require her
to remain,
she is my light,
she is my sparkle,
she consoles and aids and accompanies me.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash

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Poem: The Inner Swirl of Frustration – 07/09/20

Frustrations have been beckoning at my door.
The floating, negative energy swirls full in my belly,
it calls for something else to prey on,
catcalling, cruelly,
some more.

Am I not enough for its appetite?
Does this feeling need to engulf every part of me,
washing me, wading through me, the feeling that I have
never desired to seek?

But then, I take a step back.
I stop pursuing that which is causing me to feel… less,
useless, even though the feeling, causation, is unintended
at that.

I am feeling managed,
time-poor by choice, that behaviour does not suit me,
I cannot help how I’m feeling,
but it’s somewhat unappreciated.

There may be recoil from my words,
there may be consequences,
but I must speak my emotions,
let them loose,
I’m no longer crying them aloud,

I simply want an acknowledgement and changed behaviour,
that which shows a permanent change of tune.

Photo by Ryanniel Masucol on Pexels.com

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Poem: Perception – 06/08/20

Perception, my view of my world varies greatly.
Some days I will be bright and bubbly,
others, my nervous stomach cavernous, painful, empty.
My perception is like it’s being drawn across a dotted line,
where will the line stop?
Will visions of positivity or potent feelings be mine?
 
How I see things is not determined only by my internal workings,
rather, influenced by others and the way I react to their activities,
their feelings,
I do not dare sit here and blame,
I simply state and tell,
this is how my perception is swayed,
this I will reveal.
 
Of course, my inner cogs turn and gears grind
when reacting to something that upsets me,
affects my perception in my life,
but I cannot blame anyone for how I react or feel
simply because I should be able to control myself –
self-control, you know the drill.
 
And I wonder, how do others’ perceptions come about,
how are they constructed, do they remain constant
through an encounter,
level throughout?
I’m not sure, I’d have to speak of this with them,
what causes another person’s thoughts and
feelings to suddenly twist inside of them?
 
For some, it may be a riddle,
for others, I may have a slight internal view,
but if they fully alert me,
and I share my perceptions on that with them,
won’t we be all the more knowledgeable?  

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

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Poem: Power of Words – 05/08/20

You exist because you can,
you perpetuate your meaning because you will,
you know that to be is to cause problems
to those who wish upon you only ill.
 
Time is ticking for you, my dear,
there are many positive things which could be extracted,
but instead you realise only the darkness and poison,
you draw them out from you,
inept, you feel.
 
Some patterns are full of thrill,
and some patterns are hard to kill.
 
For the role you are undertaking,
it is one of change,
it is one of danger,
you intended to take a different path,
and now you’re mocked for this,
 
scorned for this,
in a dream, you are made to be the one
they laugh at,
because you are in your thirties and
changing your direction at last.
 
The mocking laughter pins into your flesh,
biting in the meat, causing prickles,
pain and suffering, no less,
and the direct gaze of their judgemental eyes
is wearing you down,
you simply wanted to move forward,
to leave behind what had long ago been sown.
 
And now you stay back to confront the culprit,
this is something you’d never have done,
to fight authority's bullets with verbal bullets of your own,
why, for this you deserve your own small throne.
 
And the irony is that when you do speak,
he rushes off,
pretending to do something
and never returns,
now here you have learned,
the power of words, my sweet darling,
the power within your words.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash

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Poem: A Blessed Outing – 03/09/20

The sun is shining on my face,
it’s glary but I don’t mind.
It’s nice to be outside of the house,
away from the fortress that’s kept me safe
over time.

I have ventured out for specifics,
I am here after the fact,
being here is not especially dangerous,
I’m simply sitting here in the car,
waiting for her return,
and it’s nice to be outside
of the house that we call home,
temporary freedom,
this is a blessed fact.

I watch people leave their cars tentatively,
head towards the supermarket doors,
I watch others wheel their trolleys to the cars triumphantly,
as if this is their one day out amongst many.

And here she is,
carrying a bag of goodies
and two punnets of treats,
she’s had her outing, too,
and for the chance for independence I can tell she’s pleased,
after being specifically cooped up for her safety,
there are more facts to this story that I won’t 
allow to be gleaned,

we have relished these minutes outside
and aren’t we so grateful,
these times have changed how the world and 
experiences are felt, and seen.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

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Poem: Languishing – 02/09/20

I tell myself
that everything will be okay,
but I languish in bed for hours.
I lie here, my consciousness aching away,
my stomach anxious as I wonder
not what the distant future will bring,
but the next minute, next seconds, next hours.

I do not know how to deal with this despair,
I practiced positivity these last days without a care,
but what’s settling in is this irrevocable gloom,
of unknowing, what will come,
or whether things will change at all soon.

It’s like looking up the steepest hill,
some would think, “Keep going” and keep aiming for the summit,
but I, I am exhausted,
and I’ve barely performed any exertion,
but mentally,
inside, it’s a circus.

These times are trying for many,
and I know this,
I’m not selfish for how I’m feeling,
and I understand that others are suffering,
perhaps I could reach out a hand,
then I remember we’re discouraged from this,
I must keep my distance,
but wait,
I’m already doing this.

These four walls which once seemed like luxury,
a newly-developed introvert’s home
are caving in on me,
I want to disappear,
but then it seems from the outside world
I’ve already achieved this.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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Poem: Stutter – 02/09/20

I stutter out what I want from you,
my anger causes me to shake,
I’ve never been this rowdy before,
my confidence piques -
before I know it, I’ll inadvertently break.
 
What is it about you
and this situation that causes me to uncontrollably squirm?
I can only tell you partial truths of the circumstance,
I cannot allow you to wholly learn.
 
For the truth is more than simplicity,
more than duplicity,
more than duality,
more than contextualisation.
 
To put it simply, I must breathe out
every single speckle of you
because I cannot have the world learn
that you’ve taken over me,
truth be told,
no more,
never,
not again,
the chance of this happening again?
None.
 
The sound of a lonesome wren.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Mike Marrah on Unsplash

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Poem: Starry Eyed – 01/09/20

They couldn’t help it,
they had stars in their eyes.
Bright burst of fireworks encapsulated in their sights,
little pin drops of explosions,
one by one they shine and shone,
filling their beings with life and fire,
delighting themselves,
fear, they had none.
 
What is it about confidence that oozes delectability?
And what is it about inner strength that speaks to not only them,
but me?
Because, I, as narrator of this tale,
I am also here to be affected,
lights and sounds within my view and ears,
can I share this, can I tell?
 
I am not the only one with stars in my eyes,
when I look at the those before me,
those who succeeded in their own style,
and the others who admire,
who view this situation for what it is,
entirely pleased be they,
it is involuntary.
 
Stars in our eyes,
this I’ll admit,
when I’m looking at us,
looking at it,
success is not an option,
success is the only way,
the ironic moment comes when I realise
I’ve been staring in the mirror with the others,
together,
the whole time, always.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash

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Poem: Escape to a Land of Slumber – 31/08/20

I escape into a land of slumber,
where I softly achieve my goal,
to forget and feel nothing,
I am enveloped by reaching fingertips of
diamonds and solid gold.
 
They caress me with a richness
I’ve never known,
toy with me,
play with me,
these dancing hands I feel not,
though within them, I am at home.
 
I am deep in rest,
my back the fingers stroke,
and they play with my hair,
this escape is full of my hope,
because while I’m away in mind,
I am here and now,
though some would say my consciousness is not.
 
I relish these afternoon escapes,
the siestas which take me away
to a feeling of nothingness,
of wanted emptiness,
nothing here is awry,
nothing is astray.
 
And close to waking I experience
the most amazing thing,
I rouse slowly and recollect
remnants of a dream,
someone perhaps who I have missed
without realising?
Or perhaps I simply am recalling them fondly.
 
I rarely remember my dreams,
and when I do,
the fragment slips from memory,
perhaps the dream was a message,
or something else –
I nod knowingly –
maybe revelations will unfold naturally.

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

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Poem: Eclipsed – 30/08/20

You eclipsed yourself onto my heart,
etched yourself amongst Sun and stars,
a silhouette of burnished red and brown,
a luminescent glow of you all around.
 
Your pattern, your shape,
my mind recalls,
the beauty of your face,
your expression,
I’m in thrall,
and I remember the smiles we shared,
so many days and nights together,
I am basking in the memory of your glow,
ghostly light upon me thrown,
alabaster shine upon us both.
 
Hand in hand,
you took me into your view,
fingertips laced together,
we shone, reflections of youth,
and together we created an energy unseen
by the lower land,
eclipsing my heart as you
tightly grasped my hand.
 
What will happen, dear,
when we must part?
The irreconcilable moment when
hand leaves hand,
and hearts extract entwined valves
from each other,
for one must depart.
 
I know this time will come and to it,
I revolt, as I say,
I wish I could stay in your presence,
please don’t desert me,
please remain.
 
I cannot do this on my own,
I imagine myself sadly call,
I’ll gaze into your light,
continue to further fall, 
fall further, and fall into the night.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

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