Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: illustration

  • collaboration: the sea-faring page and the empress – Braeden Kennedy and Lauren M. Hancock – 19/03/22

    collaboration: the sea-faring page and the empress – Braeden Kennedy and Lauren M. Hancock – 19/03/22

    Thank you so much to my good friend and fellow Melbourne creative, Braeden Kennedy (@bak_doodlin_away) on Instagram) for drawing this amazing piece of art for me to set a poem to.

    I am powerful, he affirms himself
    creative, talented,
    incredible, and different,
    the cool sea-blue surrounding his
    heart, mind, and soul,
    cerulean blue, seascape days
    calms him as he
    calls upon the sign of the angels
    exhibited by the sun’s rays.
    warmed by their love
    their guidance from up above,
    he basks in their glory
    and feels the connection from outside
    and deep within,
    it will last, he tells himself,
    a cruel voice sniggers from afar –
    “if only, you think…”
    manipulations from the other side
    another world perhaps
    alternative rides,
    taking a ride on the train
    with these characters,
    he won’t forget,
    their words often
    harsh, grating, snide.
    one, passes, thrusts a handful of
    tarot cards before him,
    apparently he’s a seafaring page and
    she the empress?
    he shan’t grow unfocused,
    with his art, he won’t digress
    with his guiding spirit
    he soars away from
    the clownfish and the sea
    the mermaids,
    the distractions,
    the memories which do not please,
    and from within
    he calls again to angels
    to allow his creativity to breathe…
    (c) 2022 Poem by Lauren M. Hancock @laurenm.hancock

    Artwork by Braeden Kennedy @bak_doodlin_away & @bak_animations

    Please visit, like, share and support Braeden’s artwork! He is so talented and his artwork so unique. Thanks once again, it was great to work with you on this, my friend.

  • Artwork – 21/02/22

    Artwork – 21/02/22

    Wide eyed – original artworks by myself, (c) 2022

    Dance lightly – (c) 2022

    Beautiful as a buttercup – (c) 2022

  • Poem: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21

    Poem: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21

    fatigue washes over me
    like a deadly dirty sin
    engulfing me embodying me
    takes its fill of me in
    my vision how it blurs
    swaying leaning I reach forth
    unintentionally, of course
    im falling im falling in a manner
    completely unacceptable
    breaking me
    there’s no such thing as monotony

    I fall asleep in place
    sitting up
    apparent hours minutes seconds seem to race
    i’m broken yet oddly assured that I’ll at least
    succeed at gaining some rest
    the writing that ordinarily takes ten minutes to pen
    fifteen minutes left until the almost-full hour
    disjointed thoughts and messages jotted
    now to entertain.

    I will not cry I will not moan
    victim mentality is not in my being known
    I do not know why I am suffering this way
    though, three to four hours a night
    each rest is broken like shattered pavement
    beneath my bare toes

    concentration is a joke
    my eyes my mind travels
    traverse their own wanderlust
    and walking ahead upon a path
    noticing men and women canoodling
    at half-mast
    I cannot ascertain fully what is occurring
    inside my brain
    though I suspect, ascertain, hypomanic is
    the state.

    shall we lead into mania,
    I wonder to myself,
    this polar extreme highlighted by my fervent actions
    frantically creating unto myself
    but there comes a point where I must
    Slow. It. Down.
    I do not know I do not know
    how to escape this vicious cycle
    or, am I meant to simply deal with it
    on my own?

    the moral support which
    could be provided
    is severely unacceptable
    for some assessments are rubbish
    wanting me to be under a yowling’s affair
    instead:
    tik tok tik tok laissez-faire
    rare visitations to my foreign bed.

    Original artwork by myself.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (10/12/21)

    Previous Post: boy, what’s your name again? -10/12/21
    clear to see – 10/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

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  • Micropoetry and Artwork: growing pains – 09/12/21

    Micropoetry and Artwork: growing pains – 09/12/21

    sometimes growth still yields many forms of separation…
    mistrust, paranoia, apprehension,
    brothers and sisters envisage the vision before you,
    neither be forceful nor misgiven,

    for tis the season, tis the season,
    for giving and living,
    smile, dear friends,
    for we are together, in part, until the ending.

    so now, bright lights, deep sparkles,
    heavenly ascensions,
    extending the loving,
    commence the resounding celebrations,
    fervent rejoicing.
    (08/12/21)
    Original artwork by myself

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Previous Post: no more thieves – 08/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: @laurenm.hancock

  • Poem: soul regeneration – 08/12/21

    Poem: soul regeneration – 08/12/21

    dance kisses upon my throat
    so this is what it means to hope
    stroke delicate skin upon my clavicle
    protrusion teases the heart which stems
    from endless fervour growing, grown
    exposed wrists like gentle sheets covering
    calmed corpse awaiting his final resting place
    lay with me
    as you lie to me
    and tell me I’m the most beautiful soul
    in the world you’ll ever be damned to see

    chagrin rolls in my chest
    sooty moss spreads, engulfing my freedom of breath
    these blatant lies you feed me
    extricate me
    envelope me
    warm me
    fool me
    lulled into a false sense of dubious security
    because, feed me with these tainted compliments,
    continue with your altered sentiments
    and soon I’ll come to believe, believe,
    that the moon wasn’t meant to be with the stars
    and instead destined for my eyes while I’m lying in
    your arms.

    but, perturbed am I
    I cannot allow these feelings to emote evoke my being
    immolate your false reverence
    devotion
    dear sentiment
    I know your true intent
    you want to feast upon me with your eyes
    and I’m not like that
    I am not here to be devoured
    only my mind, my memory
    should be entered into,
    my mouth shall speak of what I want
    and it’s the connection
    alliance
    amazing shared life joys,
    even the trials and tribulations.

    heaven sent is this prime connection
    I seek mental stimulation
    loving appreciation
    the physical without it
    is nothing to me
    but soul degeneration.
    (07/12/21)
    Original artwork by myself
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Previous Post: Spoken Word/poem: delving night-words

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock

  • Poem: forged perfection – 03/12/21

    Poem: forged perfection – 03/12/21

    contemplation realisation
    as I understand how to bow to true sensation
    annihilation of the frantic degeneration
    that I stave off,
    these errors that lifestyle,
    away with that nihilism.

    I wander the garden of my mind
    releasing notions that I no longer need
    to find
    the patterns of daisies and cloying pansies
    fit for regeneration between my two eyes
    mind
    soul
    me.

    I know that I must carry on without yearning
    I will someday somehow somewhere find that calling
    have I not found it yet
    is my heart not dancing
    these words
    this poetry
    this prose
    what more can I continue to be asking?

    my passion in lessons
    in moving forward
    in growth patterns
    there’s nothing left but progress
    action-reaction-traction
    enabling myself to be
    to be to be my own forged
    perfection,
    a knowledge
    self-understanding,
    deep breath in,
    pure contemplation.
    (02/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. (Words and artwork)

    Previous Post: what do you say? – 02/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
    Instagram @laurenm.hancock

  • 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: The Language of the Birds – 06/02/20

    Poem: The Language of the Birds – 06/02/20

    Manipulative and depressed?
I’ve been assessed,
thank you to this deck of birds,
by my own hand, I’ve been able to determine,
that which the world may think of me.

Selfish and unkind is perhaps how I am perceived,
because of the manner in which I composed my words,
expounded my poetry.
Through depression, through illness and anger and tribulation,
that is what has come about.
 
I cannot dream of anything other than spurting forth what is within me,
to censor, to flag myself,
it is an indelicate picture.
 
Though, of course, some writings must be withheld,
but understand, with wellness,
my true being returns,
my flames riding the curve of my back.
 
And beneath the crescent moon which waxes and emits 
a necessity for persistence and change,
I will preen myself of any loose ends that don’t need to be there,
the challenge is not removing the flames which are unrequired,
in fact, damn it all, I’ll engulf myself,
you know this firebird will never truly expire.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: From Misery to Triumph – 01/02/20

    Poem: From Misery to Triumph – 01/02/20

    I am in a state of inertia,
even breathing is a heaving encumbering illness,
unwanted, my ribs rise, lungs bloat,
with the air that’s steadily keeping me afloat.
 
My eyelids are weighted,
leaded with invisible heavy loads
fit for adjusting and comparison,
each eye, though, is equally laden.
 
I struggle to rise from this depressive state,
it’s difficult once self-condemned,
a being needs the reassurance that of
their efforts they are worthy.
 
But I’m upon my bare stomach
and I can’t bring myself to even crawl,
nor to slide along to advance forth,
am I able to do anything at all?
 
Then I remember the words spoken to me:
try, try, and try again,
don’t give up,
the voice is echoing,
for safety I am yearning,
from this abhorrent state in which I lie
I must advance myself,
I know I must, I must.
 
Thus, with palm and palm I drag myself,
each movement is monumental in my eyes,
though small and steady,
I acquire, I acquire, I advance.
 
Eventually I look back,
how far I have come,
a little wisp of triumph from my wick
I’ve avoided smouldering myself,
from this tribulation I will rise,
this success is the beginning of a future aggregate,
of everything which will shall come to pass,
this I do surmise.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Not of This World – 26/01/20

    Poem: Not of This World – 26/01/20

    She is not of this world, 
borne of an entity and a place
where daggers and betrayal are commonplace,
inside her heart lies dainty ticking time-bombs.
 
In her world, featuring prominently, are those egos, egos,
ergonomic and plentiful,
potent in their intoxication,
and scents of creation,
fresh, tall and poplar,
she is not of our world,
she makes of it what she may.  
 
Tombstones rise within her vision
creaking aching monuments applicable
to her alone,
familial ties lay beneath the soft sandy soil,
petite, concerning, but never do they overwhelm.
 
She comes from a world unlike ours,
she seems as free as the clouds,
though on the horizon
lies a promise,
a blood-red warning,
that soon, she must start running.
 
The unspoken have their own way of speaking,
deeming themselves relevant 
on both ends of a spectrum,
highlighting what she will never say,
a deeply personal experience,
an explosive type of expression.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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