Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
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 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, 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. [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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, [...]
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 [...]
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
You must be logged in to post a comment.