Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: life

  • Poem: At Peace – 25/04/21

    Poem: At Peace – 25/04/21

    I sit, 
    and I am at peace with myself. 

    My wants, my necessities, checked in at the door. 
    I am stronger internally, than ever before. 

    All I took was to shed some skin, and take in the light, 
    the light from an orb. 

    I harness that energy, 
    to be exuberant, 
    there’s nothing to waste, 

    butterflies, butterflies, 
    my kind and theirs, 
    their presence is an absolute, 
    perfect, intense. 

    Open doors and dangerous paths, 
    beckon to me, 
    sing to me, 

    come thick, 
    come sure, 
    come fast,

    but I know better than to play 
    in the land of Inbetween, 
    where imagination doth soar, 
    and reality is but a dream.

    Should I really reside in the real world? 
    I then ask myself. 
    My time upon this earth is gathering dust, dust motes, 
    but if this were worth a try, would I become lesser,
    insignificant? 

    This and that is sheer nonsense.

    Dreams deemed as nonsense but without them, 
    how would we fly? 

    Strength in numbers, 
    strength in the heart, 
    a chakra’s green surrounds my aura that shines forth,

    its steady pulsating I own as mine,
    those robust heartstrings are taut,
    they are as much as yours, as much as mine,

    fly butterfly, fly,
    you live, you’ll live,
    for but a short and splendid time. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Armand Khoury on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Strident tones announced from the bell of a trumpet, 
    I’d smile but I won’t show it, 
    I thought this was the chance to recommence, 
    but now, it’ll all be past tense. 

    To progress from the murky muck, 
    a heart flitters nervously, 
    a gut’s contents begins to rot, 

    I thought I could do this, 
    I thought I was strong, 
    but it seems the better route is to go 
    where I am accepted and comfortable all along. 

    I am enough, 
    I am too much for some, 
    I am required to be elsewhere, thanks, 
    the calling here is not enough:
    a feeling of complete numb. 

    For the sake of myself,
    I need to take into account how I will fare 
    in the long run, 
    not only the short term, 
    I need to consider what will work best for me, 
    health-wise and happiness,
    the upsets I wish to curb. 

    And last night, I decided, 
    I decided, and a sense of relief washed over me, 
    the growing stress seemed all but gone,
    my mind, my mind is free.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Invincible – 12/04/21

    Poem: Invincible – 12/04/21

    Sometimes you think you’re invincible, 
    able to take on the entire world, 
    chest puffed out, 
    arms proud, 

    but darling, understand the situation 
    and the weaknesses, 
    I wouldn’t want you to be unnecessarily 
    harmed or pained for a short while. 

    Take some deep breaths, 
    relax, 
    know that you’ll progress without this bravado, 
    you don’t need to show off to others, 
    you don’t need to be acknowledged widely for your
    inner and outer strength to be known. 

    Everything will be fine if you leave it alone, 
    the world will keep turning on its own, 
    events, disasters, 
    negative persons, 
    all will rise and fall without the throw of little stones, 
    calling of names, or smiles turned into violent frowns. 

    Take a leaf from my book, 
    isn’t it easier to remain calm, 
    isn’t it smarter, wiser, to be truthful and wear that mark 
    upon your arm, 
    there is no need for armour when 
    your heart is already in a mode of protect, 

    no need for assault or retribution
    to those who have been niggling for so long, 
    intruding on a life from times now so old. 

    Leave him, 
    leave the situation, 
    allow the feelings to rise, 
    be filled to the brim, 
    but then dissipate, 
    there’s something poignant in crying out
    the anger then allowing it to echo away, 
    its very own din.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Ian Stauffer on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Does Time Really Heal? – 09/04/21

    Poem: Does Time Really Heal? – 09/04/21

    I wonder to myself, does Time heal most wounds?
    Does it help scab over the surface of gashes 
    more permanently than over a clumsy bruise?

    Will it fix the mistakes, 
    the errors of time gone by?
    Allowing for a reprieve, 
    a chance to redo the actions, rather than saying goodbye?

    Or perhaps Time heals the wounds and allows the person
    a chance to move on after aching for many moons. 
    Maybe the healing is a motion that simply occurs
    the less we think of them, 
    a widened universe that wouldn’t allow us to forget them so soon,
    but then thoughts of them gently intrude. 

    We needed the chance to digest the actions, 
    the gashes, the slashes, emotional warfare, and then…
    we have healed, it has taken Time, this we do know, 
    forgiveness may appear stupidity or ignorance, 
    but people are human, and mistakes we must allow for, 
    and dismiss, and for the future, know.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.    
    Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash               

  • Poem: Quality – 09/04/21

    Poem: Quality – 09/04/21

    I darn the threadbare blanket, 
    there are weaves showing to me, 
    I’m not alarmed by its fragility, 
    it’s actually perfect to see.

    Because it signals much use, 
    desirous times,
    this blanket speaks of laughter, friendship and truth,
    is loving deemed a crime? 

    This blanket’s been with me through a lot, 
    covering, securing, protecting, 
    I darn the holes away, 
    renew it –
    it’s anew!
    with only little errors to view, 

    but are they really errors?
    This covering signals the bond between you and I, 
    it links me to others too, 
    with these friends there’s no need for goodbye. 

    The threadbare areas are reminiscent of our 
    times where we lingered, conversed, and loved, 
    the blanket itself is signalling the quality of my friendships
    with few and far in between, 
    a small quantity of quality now, 
    what is there left not to love?

    I am no longer bereft by the smaller number, 
    it’s not about quantity, 
    it’s about cherishing who and what these friendships are,
     
    the blanket caresses us, 
    carries us under,
    I am grateful for them, 
    and everything. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.           
    Photo by Nery Zarate on Unsplash        

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  • Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    It’s considered ludicrous, 
    as this pencil draws as pen, 
    impermanence detailing permanence, 
    can history make amends? 

    In truth, in part, 
    will hope, will fresh knowledge renew?
    In truth, in whole, 
    intentions grown strength to strength 
    and full. 

    But, unmanageable, so it seems? 
    By a world of common sense and 
    split former seams,
    will future tense stretch in excess, 
    parading that which should shriek with joy, not distress?

    I speak of stitches, 
    popped at their entry points, 
    I mention stitches, 
    now being repaired thrice by thrice. 

    I speak of strings ringing with vibrato, 
    these fingers are tremulous, 
    gently rolling, 
    creating that beautiful musical sense
    now and for all tomorrow’s calling.

    But is there enough enveloping scope, 
    in the melodies nightly hushed, 
    in the tunes gently told,
    because one could be argumentative 
    and find insipid flaws 
    in shattered rhapsodies already spoke.

    One must be patient, 
    and wonder not, or perhaps continue to dance, 
    it’s dangerous around certain fires, 
    but some flighty ladies love to linger and prance.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  
    Image by Kateřina Hartlová from Pixabay      

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  • Poem: The Wild Card – 11/02/21

    Poem: The Wild Card – 11/02/21

    I am curious:
    how much of this tale 
    do you know for yourselves?

    I am inquisitive: 
    which part of it makes you need to 
    live and breathe, and want to dive and delve?

    I am aware there lies certain conditions of the body and mind, 
    the pages whipping in the gust, 
    their varied intent,
    settling in, seemingly randomised.

    Like her, he needed saving,
    but it’s as though he calmly waited to be found,
    the blow softened from another well-trusted, 
    I’m whipping away their cobwebs, 
    the path ahead is easy enough to find now.

    It’s all set to be trodden upon,
    won’t they reap what has been sown?
    Certain pieces of this puzzle discarded, 
    and others’ presence completely unknown. 

    Now, the wild card,
    rugged character, 
    in the playing deck is quite uncommon, 
    his frequency is not plentiful, 
    and his presence here is never forgotten.
     
    Thus, while searching for his twinkling stars, 
    remember the constellations which have been
    gazed upon
    by millions and millions more, 
    so appreciative from afar,

    this player, in his rarity, 
    his appearance, he is speaking, 
    to me, to us, 
    to you, to them, 
    his relevance akin to a promising
    three card spread,
    a bright destiny which won’t stop calling. 

    I yearn to provide some solace 
    for ambiguity is what I’ve leaned upon, 
    in time, many souls will repair themselves,
    heart, body and mind,
    the wild card smiles upon and with them as one.
     
    There will be much motivation to spring forth
    to allow progress to heal,
    these facts are done and dusted,
    more predictions to be told soon,
    positive forecasts, will they bloom,
    will they yield?

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Debasish Lenka on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Refreshing Confidence – 09/02/21

    Poem: Refreshing Confidence – 09/02/21

    Refreshing is the scent of confidence,
    I see you breathe it in like a cure,
    it repairs and it adjusts you with love,
    the acceptance of yourself,
    with blessings from up above.

    Do not worry about whether
    the points of your life,
    the details,
    will all fit together,

    because within,
    you’ve grown far stronger,
    there is no more space for anyone but you,
    there is no wonder for any other.

    So, quieten down the heady sensations
    of silent vibrations which hurt you again and again,
    the buzzing which dulled your heart and mind
    into something you felt you always needed but
    you never required that certain adjustment.

    I prayed for you each day,
    for the moment of your kingdom come,
    and here it is,
    you’ve matured into such a wonderful being,
    someone important’s will has been done.

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

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  • Poem: The Search – 04/02/21

    Poem: The Search – 04/02/21

    Tree-man gathers and smiles in the plains that are his own, 
    shrubs and bushes alongside also grin and rustle, 
    they watch as he explores his land, 
    attends to the fallen leaves as gently as if each were a sacred sign, 
    they are, in fact, because they’re quietly home grown. 

    Each delicate marking, 
    each unique shade of yellow, brown or green makes his
    heart swoon, 
    his mood heady 
    for he is seeking his queen, 
    a tree-lady whom he can share his life with, 
    not just as his own.

    But there are few tree-people in this land, 
    they’re a rarity as such, 
    in fact, he’s only viewed his family, 
    never had the opportunity to reach forth to another tree-person
    to embrace or touch. 

    He’s been searching so long for that leafy being who will 
    meld with his heart, 
    to accept the language of his artful words, 
    his kindly soul, 
    his hopeful spirit and warming eyes crossed with subtle stars.

    His journey has taken him high and low, 
    and deep within, there’s a part of him which knows
    that there may never be that tree-lady waiting out there for him, 
    but he accepts this as potential truth, 
    doesn’t weep, 
    doesn’t sigh, 
    he is strong enough within himself to know that 
    he can carry on happily,
    and perhaps the dreamed-off meeting is secretly nigh. 

    Meeting someone would just make his life all the more complete. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Image drawn by myself, copyright 2021.

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  • Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Poem: Quiet Improvements – 02/02/21

    Sometimes life won’t be perfect
    no matter how much you will it, 
    you adjust, you alter, 
    you are adamant, 
    yet plans, they falter,
    accept defeat, 
    you must admit this.  

    It does not matter how much we carry 
    wishes within us, 
    there are moments which will simply 
    flit out of the picture,
    the power within, 
    the strength which hardens us 
    can make us shudder, 
    and suddenly there’s that shattering, 
    the shattering of one’s perfect picture. 

    It shouldn’t matter that I can’t sit here and 
    share all the rest, 
    paint a scene for you to observe and for myself to reminisce,
    despite it all, despite my hopes, my dreams, 
    I want to move forward, and become much more
    than that which I yearned for 
    now and evermore,
     
    a glass-stained picture 
    which drips in brights, in hues, 
    in yellows, in blues, 
    and rectifies the scent of unwanted, sympathetic flowers,
    shall we begin anew?

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Taisiia Shestopal on Unsplash

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