Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose
Where I can feel at home…
I can’t be bright, I can’t be calm, I want to write darkness into their arms, the lovers’ capacity are shadowed in depth, their fates, true strengths will be met. In the witching hour their magic’s so bright, Moon sprays light into their night and the raven caws deep rumble, sharp, hard, one would never [...]
I sit here by this loom — Hand making, hand weaving fineries For our sort beneath the moon. It is quiet here, absent are those memories Which once took up space within my cranium, The mind of mine where thoughts permeated of you and I, Once alive, now we have died.
the magic of the Universe callsspiral patterns curlreminding us of grandma,mother and childthe lush serene natureof breathglows from Gaia’s glorious eyesenlivened spiritsexploring elvesglittering sprightly sprites.I am amazed by the clouded blue before meabove rainbows threaten to fallmagnificent oceans,raging and still, waitingfor the next wet treasure fromNature’s dripping eyesa blessing unto the animalsforest dwellersand rainforest homesdeserts [...]
The universal white light surrounds me, an ethereal net, damp, floaty cloud so soft I bounce into, not against it… freeform, flow, billowy nature’s growth, it is like an extra being within the room, some giant, invisible, quietly huffing and puffing, he smiles as he cloaks my aura, now no longer a sunny yellow disposition, but made into a vagrant’s imposition…
the standard rhythmic drum won’t work anymore, it’s not fitting to pound to the spuldr of another’s heart, no when you alone know where to recommence – life truly is art.
allowing her green centre to ache and heave breaths inert and then heavier cast bronze statue of sin elaborate not on the mishaps nor the immoralities untoward but feast upon the irreverence which rusts not that bronze but iron ore.
the dance the flautist sweetly breezes her melody, I can barely hold myself together that breath which creates wonder not an insolent din, fires once raged and sins were born but hell hath no current feature, gone, perpetually, is that scorn!
the waves take me on a journey where I’m lulled into a sense of security and notes like gentle hands wash over me, I am amazed and quiet, there is nothing remaining above the surface, a breath and I’m underneath, the seaweed, coral, clown fish are brighter than above-days,
my key is permanent, it’s on the left side of me, the side which I spoke of in my metaphoric language how: I don’t need a man and time is always on my side.
Kookaburras sing their laughter, two fighting for acknowledgement, one with the other, and galahs smile with their cheeky beaded eyes winking, oh my! and the lorikeets feast on our figs, damn it! Mum wants to know WHY. Why is it they are so greedy, sitting on the boughs so precious, looking for something delicious for a bird so pretty, one two flew the coup, out the nest, and well, life is just beginning.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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