Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: illness

  • 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: Breaking News – 27/01/21

    Poem: Breaking News – 27/01/21

    The journey is almost over, 
    the pain, the suffering, the ailing, 
    all to be washed away from the nights and the mornings, 

    the bravery is there to be seen, 
    highs and lows, during so much time, 
    she’s been stoic throughout it all, 
    the therapy has not seized her courage, 
    or taken away her positivity,

    she’s been fighting and carrying on
    throughout what has sometimes been a struggle,
    demonstrating her resilience and capabilities. 

    Today’s the second last session, 
    she has strength within, 
    she has power throughout, 

    the flushing of medications promises
    one more attendance
    to be borne with a grin, 

    I am proud of her quiet resolve, 
    and with this illness 
    she has demonstrated the ability to combat the ill emotions, 
    upsets and suffering, 
    her coping strategies long ago set into motion,
    brightness in moving forward and re-focussing.

    She will walk away from this time with her head held high
    knowing she’s combatted this illness as though
    it’s barely stopped her,
    hardly stalled her in her tracks,
    hardly sent her life awry,

    she’s been able to fight through the side effects,
    has kept herself busy,
    has remained hopeful,
    even when she was feeling so poorly and weak,
    she approached it with the hope of a new tomorrow.

    And I know that when she strides away from that seat
    that final time,
    triumphant in heart, body and mind,
    she will feel oh, so fine
    that she’s combatted this
    in the best way she could have handled it,
    my gracious mother of mine.

    We await the opportunity to celebrate this milestone,
    hers and our relief together in due time.

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

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  • Poem: Facade – 13/10/20

    Poem: Facade – 13/10/20

    There’s the facade that everything’s okay.
    We walk our neighbourhood route,
    acting naturally, smiling as our arms sway.
    But there’s a hidden secret,
    it’s kept close, away from prying eyes,
    the facade we hide behind,
    that nothing is astray or awry within our lives.

    Behind closed doors is suffering,
    but behind the walls so too is steady recovery,
    and within the walls of a bravely beating,
    fighter’s heart drums the strength and courage
    equivalent to many.

    It’s no secret to a small group of others,
    the facts have been divulged and shared,
    the pain, the initial distraught,
    the distress, the load,
    amongst those trusted, those close,

    and we’ve kept the secret quiet from
    the majority of others,
    it’s a will that must be done,
    must be respected,
    like a healing wound, to be carefully covered.

    There is no shame in what is occurring,
    no need to hide behind hands,
    to be embarrassed about anything,
    but there is no need for a public fight,
    it is a battle, yes,
    but to carry the courage within and muster the strength
    to keep repairing is preferable to do so in privacy.

    So, allow us the facade,
    allow us the truth, too,
    allow us to share and hide what that special someone
    is going through,
    because with time,
    they’ll repair, great and strong,
    and rise, and rise with wings of triumph,
    back to the stead of life where they belong.

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

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  • Poem: Brave – 20/08/20

    Poem: Brave – 20/08/20

    This is dedicated to my mother.

To be brave means to ignore that knot in your stomach,
to fight its twists and turns,
to be resilient within oneself,
to know all will be fine even if there’s a chance it won’t.
 
To be brave is to put on that face of strength
for your friends and family,
to not allow yourself to crumble within,
to take everything within your stride,
to face this with a smile,
a smirk, a grin.
 
To be brave is to research absolutely everything,
to be most informed means to be most prepared
for if all the details and statistics are known,
does this not mean a more intelligible road?
 
You are brave --
I can hear and see the positivity
in your words and eyes,
not once have I seen a tear shed,
body curled in suffering or misery within your bed,
and most certainly it’s because I know
that for you, yourself,
you understand you must be strong.
 
To make it through this with positivity and hope,
there is hope you’ll get through it soon enough,
this is the means through which you cope.
 
We are here for you at every turn,
here to offer calming cups of warm water,
or offer company, to sit quietly,
you bravely speak with close others
of the path ahead
as though its nothing,
nothing to worry about,
because you, you know you will mend.
 
There is only brokenness within,
and it’s a physical not mental state,
I never see any signs of mental suffering,
perhaps you hide it away from me,
expel it softly in your room when it becomes very late.
 
But for your journey,
you have no need to prove that you are brave
because I already know it
and now I’m truly seeing it,
you will make it through this storm,
you’ll become right as rain.

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

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  • Poem: Rich Blood – 06/02/20

    Poem: Rich Blood – 06/02/20

    Blood pumps through my veins,
potent, rich, disastrous,
cells which slip and slide,
speaking of a invasive nature that is hereditary.
 
The mishaps which befit my existence were
invisible to begin with,
then with coercion,
coaxing,
they came forth.

The personality changes,
the heights the lows,
the outstanding misunderstandings,
 
the delusory nature of my illness,
it startles,
the non-stop talk,
the mania,
the lack of self-control,
the coping devices.
 
But those days, hopefully,
those relapses are behind me
and all I need to maintain
is my health,
an understanding that I must be both vigilant and alert.
 
The blood pulsates through my veins,
and I wonder how difficult it will be to remain 
in the realm of wellness
or even clutching to the surface,
just as long as I don’t plummet
or fly,

but up and up and away would be nice,
I’d like that for change,
but then, I wouldn’t,
illness' propellant and subsequent crash is not a blast,
thought it might appear so
experienced that way.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Dyversions from Pixabay

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  • Prose Poetry: Daffodil – 20/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Daffodil – 20/10/19

    The daffodil is strangely beautiful in its brightened yellow garb. In his coloured outfit of delight, he makes observers sing and sigh with breathy appreciation and flowing rivers of love.

    He is modest, this daffodil, he does not ask to be seen for what he is not, he is not showy or greedy for eyes, he accepts what is given, where our eyes are cast.

    But we cannot stare at anything other than him, his joyous melody of lightness seemingly singing, singing, through our innate senses of melodious being.

    He also represents awareness, a sign of a reminder, but here he is simply here, present, and we appreciate his wonder. All the while though, there is a knowing that his sincere purpose is to make others show that we understand, we are aware, of his meaning we truly care.

    His beauty can be deceptive, but he is now blossomed, into full bloom, like the brightened message he represents, we can take this flower with us, from hushed room to comforting room.

    This daffodil is magic, and he is perfectly pleased with being part of a message, raising eyes, awareness and acknowledging the brave hearts whom the blossom is trying to help save with his blessings.  

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: Snorbert’s Deathly Device – 28/09/19

    Poem: Snorbert’s Deathly Device – 28/09/19

     Snorbert the Coiled Doggie possessed some terrible untoward thoughts
     he was obsessed with making smoke tricks with his vape
     he believed the special smoke gave him increased volume of thoughts
     and physical energy to make him trimmer and taut.
      
     While he was tripping on his words and slurring on his S’s and stumbling on his vowels
     his mind felt restless, more aware, yet not at ease at all.

     He imagined darkened thoughts of capturing ganders of geese 
     and frightening them into being tangled in masses of tall angry trees
     and then
     bucking with broncos and lassoing them with the most delectable of ease.
      
     His favourite method of his state of being was of course, coiled, or rather
     known as psychedelic.
     He could be entertained for hours it seemed
     when his lungs were pacified, but secretly drowning
     their futures breaths to be shallow and frantic.
      
     But there were moments when 
     the clouded sky of raw brutal thoughts was shifted aside,
     away,
     to reveal a clearer mindset and a satisfied ride, 
     where he could mentally feel the ease of calm trickling rain.
      
     Where for a moment there was no idle feeling of him drowning with meandering sensation
     a repulsing sense of mentally altered satisfaction
     Snorbert now had a clearer agenda and it no longer involved becoming elevated 
     because of the vapour.

     Realising in this moment it was responsible for his strange thoughts and lack of ardour
     he tossed the device into a lake
     watched it sink, 
     deeper, under, deeper still:
      
     Soon enough it would never again be seen.  
      
     There was no time in his world for potential future mental illness
     and lung disease, or even death.
     He was a smarter doggie now, 
     he had awakened, he now knew the facts.
      
     That tempting temptress of a device could cause him the loss of his life
     or at least the comfort of deep fresh breaths 
     his God-given ability to inhale and exhale freely.
      
     There is a lesson to be learned
     but he shall not righteously parade his tale before you all
     Snorbert simply sits calm, still, clear-minded,
     as I finish recalling his story to inform, not to enthral.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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