Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose
winding worlds, sharpened words, and vibrant art
Languid, my arm flops and hangs from the mattress, I am but a mere weakened being suffering my body’s wretched heat. My toes wriggle, it’s the most exercise I’m able to perform, I am exhausted, and I’ve barely woken up. What is this ill health surrounding my body? a yellowing at the edges [...]
I remember being on that highway where I urged you on from my car to keep up with me the exhilaration breathless wind rushing gasp inducing risk taking no one else here to see. 100 110 115 pushing 120 could we go any faster honey 130 that’s it! 140 we’ve hit it, our cumulative [...]
She hangs mid-air, suspended, as though from faint fairy strings, with the mischievous beings, barely there, holding her aloft, chattering quietly, smiling, sparkling, socialising among themselves. She understands she is not perfect, she’s been sneered at and jeered at all year, a hopeless reach into the view for perfection she’s been striving for, because [...]
Misterioso, that’s how the piece is marked, to be performed with a mood of mystery and secrecy, perhaps it speaks of a quiet enigma. Through these bars and notes I will troupe, exploring the shaded corners, casting aside the yawning awnings of protection from the vividness of truth, there are certain things here which [...]
Thank you to someone special who permitted his fictionalising and through heavy edits, turned out to be a different character entirely. ~ ~ ~ I dance and prance before you, playful hands edging your way, eclectically jabbing to ruffle you, closer and closer, my painted smile beams as hips swivel and sway. You present a [...]
she hunts for the perfect blossoms and odds and ends, she has uses for them those with strangely mottled leaves or browned petals, a quick clip, rip, now wondrous. lilies are her favourite, but roses? just magnificent, in her front garden which she lovingly tends, she has built up a fortress of scents and [...]
You are a grandfather clock, grand, looming, and majestic, with a cabinet of stained ornate timber, and that entrance which houses all things fantastic. I will sit before you, cross-legged as I listen to you regale me with tales of steady, calming ticking, a metronome of eternity, a heavy heartbeat within your formality. [...]
