Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: life

  • Poem: Personal Growth and Sunshine – 31/01/21

    Poem: Personal Growth and Sunshine – 31/01/21

    The sunshine drips through my windowpane, 
    illuminating, brightening, my heart, my mind, 
    I am finally at peace, 
    there’s no need to search nor find, 
    I am satisfied, satisfied 
    with the breath of my life, 
    my soul it feels so light and kind. 

    Nevermore will I search arduously, 
    high and low, 
    painful, the path impatient but slow 
    for completion through others, 
    through acceptance and approval, 
    why, what is the point in it all?

    External throes, 
    moments wrestling in mental snow, 
    lack of understanding in ways that weren’t meant to be known. 

    I am within my aura of acceptance, 
    there’s a certain feeling of knowing and being, 
    truth and understanding,
    being comfortable within oneself is actually somewhat amazing, 
    this growth has occurred seemingly quickly, 
    but it has been many years in stagnant making, 
    unseen anticipation, 

    and now I’m finally here, 
    it’s time to work on others things, 
    but always being thankful and grateful for everything I have, 
    and the events, trials and tribulations I’ve experienced and seen, 

    I must know that there were others playing supportive hands too, 
    but most of all, 
    maturity and experiences have helped me make it through,
    I am blessed, 
    not the member of a group who felt unfairly damned.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: A Trio of Happy Bakers – 30/01/21

    Poem: A Trio of Happy Bakers – 30/01/21

    Wafting aromas of pastries from windowsills
    of homely cottages,
    welcoming me,
    engulfing me, 
    overwhelming my mind and tummy.

    Sweetened moments flit back into my mind, 
    the shared moments with family and friends
    as we baked and sung together, 
    to music, 
    joyfully along,
    side by side,
    these times were ours to experience, 
    and now for me to wistfully recall.

    Those moments, those friendships, 
    sadly fallen by the wayside, 
    but I will remember the sweetness of our smiles, 
    of our accumulative pairs of brightened eyes, 
    because before things went pear-shaped, 
    they were apple-shaped, 
    in pairs and trios were we, 
    nothing to be taken away from, 
    no pains, 
    only happiness to be seen.

    And at the end of the night, 
    when baking was complete and it was time to
    sample the delights, 
    we would delve joyfully into the creations, 
    no fear of weight or sugar content, 
    no, no, 
    of these we had no awareness or fright, 
    we’d indulge until we were full to the brim, 
    and still we wished we had more to fill ourselves with. 

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Morning Chatter – 29/01/21

    Poem: Morning Chatter – 29/01/21

    I’m all out of cares and concerns, 
    leave behind the airs and trials, 
    there is no haughtiness or sinister circumstances,
    view the alterations for miles.

    Those dreams which haunted the mind
    but only last night, 
    are they pointing to, 
    are they signalling signs? 
    Obscure and strange, 
    but there, in existence, to be analysed within the times?

    Truthfully, I cannot say, 
    the images were the makings of another, 
    only relayed to me the very next day, 
    broken sleep having saved, 
    in the morning, an important character, 
    the priors potent and frightening, 
    rattling, 
    yet intriguing,
    first morning light chatter.    

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: A Timely Smile – 28/01/21

    Poem: A Timely Smile – 28/01/21

    This smile, she is timely,
    she has arrived well and alive,
    with her presence her owner will revive,
    feel stronger,
    amazing,
    and whole.

    There were calls for her demise,
    suffocations of her interior,
    breath caught in her lungs,
    catching at the escape,
    wishing for the air never to be free nor fly,
    but now, a rapid sigh of relief,
    a time of kingly brightness and benevolence
    as a hand reaches out to warm and caress.

    The air no longer is dry, dead,
    nor stale,
    but the validity of her smile is it’s alive
    for all to see:
    we can see those teeth flash bright for miles and miles.

    And the succinct fact is the woman’s happy,
    she doesn’t need to be given this or that to be lively,
    she is creating her life as priority,
    her satisfaction as part of her personality,
    she’s no longer reaching out to all as an anomaly,
    wishing to appeal or appease,
    no, those moments begged for her to leave.

    She wasn’t required,
    she wasn’t necessary,
    but she is enough, enough,
    she calls freely,
    a triumphant self-awareness of her worth and truth,
    there’s no cause for her persistence to be belittled,
    for between those days and now there is
    much mental and physical distance to view.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Poem: Once Tales to Tell – 17/01/21

    Written by myself, there were once great tales to tell,
    now my tongue falls flat and limp,
    it will not, I will not speak.

    Sharing out of turn can be most expensive,
    not financially but morally,
    how do we strip the obligation from our hands,
    cleanse our palms,
    something wise and sent,
    perfection slightly the same and honest?

    I wonder through my conscience,
    my moral set and case,
    please do what is right,
    a voice whispers to my eye,
    or third eye’s hearing even more.

    I will be the sweet princess,
    like an out-of-season Christmas tree still cheering
    the room,
    my scent, will long linger,
    rosemary, rosemary, rosemary.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Poem: Brightness – 17/01/21

    Brightness engulfs that wicked room
    where tales were never shared.
    Where fears, anxiety,
    irreverently unfold within the gloom,
    resting concerns upon one’s hands.

    There is a quietness which is perturbed
    by the stately arrival of glaring white
    and unnatural upheaval,
    a certain something,
    a funk, a stink,
    which would bring one to their knees,
    into the darkest of thickets,
    the tangled thorns, the trees, the thistles.

    Do not cry for the moment of lost opportune,
    do not grieve, neither mourn,
    there is no end, only if wished for soon,
    there is nothing worth feeling lost about,
    because the presence, she lingers,
    lingers in a manner that takes words straight
    from awe-struck mouths and fingers.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo from Unsplash.

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Wheel of Stars – 13/01/21

    Poem: Wheel of Stars – 13/01/21

    The Wheel of Stars seems never to slow,
    blossoms bothered, scattered their presence grows,
    the eternity which awaits,
    turns and turns of fate,
    reading the images before my eyes,
    positive or negative fortunes accumulate.

    Midnight sky blotted with stars and shine,
    this road, the path ahead,
    it is all mine,

    I can rejoice at my arrival,
    strength at my return,
    I will lead the weary,
    eyes and hearts will burn.

    Truly, truly,
    will I know this,
    the path of least resistance will be filled
    with goodness,

    I may be hindered, but so too shall I grow,
    like an ivy which dances
    around an exquisite rose.

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

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Ink and colours swirl and fly,
    admirably they meld into the other,
    watch our joy multiply.
    There’s not a moment too soon
    when we can reach into the stars,
    colours, outlines, so fantastical,
    we can hardly believe them ours.

    I know that these hues and shades
    might not be here forever,
    but I appreciate and accept,
    allow them to provide my eyes pleasure
    and favour while I introspect,

    I know not their meanings to you,
    but to me they are plentiful,
    wholesome,
    vivid, true,
    here’s what I’ve planned,
    I know not what with the colours
    you plan to do.

    Be delicate with them,
    I chide but smile,
    wonder not,
    the colours will remain for a long while,
    the moment of truth is when
    decisions are made with great charms,
    wondering, and wandering,
    into fields of open arms.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image by Jeremy Thomas, Unsplash.

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Denounced – 01/01/21

    Poem: Denounced – 01/01/21

    Not right, not right, not right.
    Matchmaking is more than a plight,
    I shall denounce the insolence with a single breath
    into the dead of night.

    Who minds that only I am the one who breathes,
    flames flicker by my outstretched hands,
    extended sleeves,
    I shall not learn what it means to flee.

    I will stand strong and steadfast
    without losing face,
    treated unfairly,
    lost the place in my race,

    it’s not right to besmirch on a day such as this,
    wriggle those magical fingers,
    fend off those ill feels,
    I shan’t bother to ache,
    rather I’ll begin to heal.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Home

    All Posts

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose

  • Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Perhaps some are meant to be
    apart for a while,
    to allow distance and the ability for
    truth to no longer be real.

    Imagination reigns without truth,
    what is that person seeing, feeling,
    what will they do,
    thoughts of them, I should really be
    immensely and measurably through.

    Delicate interventions,
    reaching out in a moment,
    wondering is no longer wondering
    because now there’s an
    ability to slightly see,

    Are there differences to be observed,
    are they selective,
    there to be heard?
    I know there are some changes,
    waiting to be discovered and learned.

    Brightened are they,
    with each moment they are heard,
    loneliness could have overwhelmed,
    must have caused great dismay,

    but I must tread delicately,
    not flit around too flashily or fancily,
    too much attention drawn could cause cracks to be seen and
    cause future suffering.

    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image from Unsplash.

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home