Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: literature

  • Poem: A Scorned Beast – 07/06/20

    Poem: A Scorned Beast – 07/06/20

    Night mode –
do my wings terrify?
Does the beat of these bones and membranes
send terror, shivers down your spine?
 
I am ready for the evening,
suit of armour here for protection,
although I won’t need it,
besides,
it’s only a matter of deflection.
 
I shall reign triumph and terror
where I see fit,
your lashing anger and fury show no signs of abating,
how dare you,
with tempestuous words direct hit upon hit?
 
I am ready for you,
and those of your kind,
my wings,
with their enormous span –
do they terrify?

(28/05/20)

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Lothar Dieterich from Pixabay

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  • Poem: A Poet’s Winter Sky – 06/06/20

    Poem: A Poet’s Winter Sky – 06/06/20

    A winter’s sky,
weather crisp,
sights so blue,
 
I sit outside by the table,
drawing my thoughts out,
they fly;
I peruse.
 
Above and around me,
they permeate in the
sharp, chilling yet
welcome frigidity,
floating like pieces of a puzzle,
of which only I am arranging.
 
A word here,
a phrase there,
then suddenly something
has become,
 
constructed,
connectivity,
my will, my hopes,
have been done.
 
And in this space
in which I quietly exist,
this realm which is
my own,
 
I lay ownership
to my creation –
the crisp air, blue sky
has brought this about,
another pattern has been woven,
tightly sewn.
 
How I love this finality,
but the work is not yet complete,
more revision to make it so,
 
time to extract the laptop,
carefully type the words up,
will they be enough?
Will Winter smile upon me
for what I have told?
 
She has been so forthcoming
with her ability to chill and to shine,
these words, these phrases,
will she be pleased?
Will my efforts be recognised?
 
And finally, I am finished,
satisfied I am with myself,
these moments which wafted
around my mind,
no longer singular pieces
of a poet’s daily grind.
 
The former puzzle of themselves,
now held together in a certain style,
I hold the resultant product close to me:
a hard-earned prize,

and huddled in my thick jacket,
I radiate a beaming smile,
 
Winter has inspired me,
I feel her mirth,
her approval,
this joyous feeling,
I will treasure it for a bit and a while.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo my own.

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  • Poem: Am I To Blame? – 05/06/20

    Poem: Am I To Blame? – 05/06/20

    By the skin of my teeth,
the scraping of my nails,
I’m fighting for escape,
freedom from this personal hell.
 
How did I get here?
Perchance, do you think
I even know?
 
The aching and the longing,
the pain, this vivid suffering,
guttural shrieks,
I’m alone,
but not completely by myself.
 
For these dull thoughts,
their lack of rambling,
their mind-dulling medications,
 
my blurred, stunted abilities,
no longer independent,
only permitted a stupor
behind elders and staff
I am meant to be following.
 
No bright sparks,
my light,
my synapses have been capped,
 
I’m disgusted with myself,
the mental apathy,
physical lumbering 
I show and have within,
the aftermath.
 
Is it my fault?
Because I went off meds?
Seeking that glorious manic high,
to ride those ecstatic waves,
is there a suitable alibi?
 
For eventually, I plummeted,
deep despair,
I could barely swim,
coagulating sin,
what have I done,
the wreckage before me:
life’s comical misery.
 
And I wallow
in the blackest, languid part of me,
is this what they call barely living?
My mood, my pace, my life,
simply crawling?
 
The prince and princess fled in my tale,
only grimy kingdoms
are where my soul has been called,

the hollowing,
never-ending emptiness,
this gnawing depressive hell,
for the former intensity of my world
I plead and I beg and I wail.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Anemone123 from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Home – 04/06/20

    Poem: Home – 04/06/20

    I feel most at home here,
within these welcoming walls,
but a house is only a house
until we make it a home.
 
What makes mine one?
Let me share with you,
what luck I’ve been blessed with,
what good fortune, too.
 
It has nothing to do with
the furnishings,
nothing to do with
material possessions,
 
naught to do with
items which bring comfort,
it has everything to do
with the love within.
 
I live with those
who I am close with,
their kind words,
warming hugs,
our family unit is a world of our own,
consideration and open hearts.
 
Those who listen,
share their wisdom,
I share my happiness,
my joy with them all, 
 
the times when we were
all under strain
is long gone,
why, we’ve practically forgotten that pain.
 
Instead we are together,
in every sense of the word,
living as one,
a stronger family we have become.
 
With my growing maturity,
I can be my best to them,
kind, loving and caring,
when upset or in pain,
I can attend to them.
 
I now listen to their words,
respectful in the home,
our house not just a house,
but somewhere we can rest quietly,
together or alone.
 
I am grateful for this world,
this space,
where I can be myself,
thank you to my family,
for making this my home.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Harry Strauss from Pixabay

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  • Poem: No More Beating Around The Bush – 04/06/20

    Poem: No More Beating Around The Bush – 04/06/20

    I stride around the bush,
beating it despite what I’ve been told,
wondering will it spite me,
or capture,
vice-like will it take hold?
 
There’s no magic in avoiding
a situation,
procrastination,
this method won’t become
the wisest choice,
 
I must take the bull by its horns,
my predicament,
I should not feel compromised.
 
Oh, how these troubles only came
when I put pen to paper,
I was a fool
for believing
such words were fit for others.
 
The raucous,
the tirades,
the untoward screams,
powerful potions,
ill behaviour,
am I unworthy of clemency?
 
But I have changed for the better,
I shan’t beat around the bush,
only reveal now what’s relevant,
not tired, unwholesome truths.
 
No longer to wallow in the
quagmire of self-regret,
the outspoken words
still plain to see if at discovery
one’s adept,
 
then again,
most pages are firmly closed,
no longer open books,
I’ll only reveal certain facts
if it’s necessary for you to peruse.
 
But, I’ve moved on long ago,
it’s for the best,
because I say so,
I’m sure you’ll all agree
no one needs to revolt that way,
haphazard, spiteful words to then fro.
 
Thousands upon thousands of words,
up and away,
they shall be thrown,
and I’ll hold no ounce of bitterness or dismay,
because some history does not need to be known.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Our Many Layers – 03/06/20

    Poem: Our Many Layers – 03/06/20

    Layered like onions,
our personalities they become,
complex and full of depth,
our nuances, eccentricities conjoin as one.
 
Who says being different is incorrect?
Unique we live
loud and free,
our notions, our understandings,
united personalities.
 
Peel back a layer:
surprise!
What’s waiting within?
Another facet within our souls,
an accumulated sense of quiet knowing.
 
Do we possess the ability
to remove a layer day by day?
To reveal a new part of ourselves,
vulnerable we become?
We may.
 
But it is in the revelation
that helps us share with each other,
getting to know further,
understanding ourselves and others better.
 
And what say you when
you are down to your last skin,
the exhilarating moment,
when we reveal our truest,
our beating hearts within.
 
To be seen,
to be held,
to be accepted for who we are,
 
here we stand,
now light as feathers,
spirit wafting around our beings,
winding between our loose fingers.
 
We have possessed the courage
to share ourselves,
to allow our true beings to be seen,
 
so wonder not about hidden layers,
to remain cloaked,
fear, apprehension,
these emotions are unnecessary.
 
Be brave,
be strong,
and open widely your arms,
 
this is the method,
this is the practice,
the process,
 
shed your layers,
reveal all facets of your personality,
we will surely get along.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Gratitude – 01/06/20

    Poem: Gratitude – 01/06/20

    Don’t force the moment,
it’s time for reflection,
a deep feeling of gratitude,
for who and what I have.
 
So many years spent pining
for this or that,
a love, more friends,
material possessions.
 
But what matters most are who
and what simple things we have,
such as that roof over our heads,
warm food,
a loving home.
 
Loyal friends,
kind words,
things to be grateful for,
our lives complete,
faith restored.
 
Of course, there can be
things for which we yearn,
but remember what we have,
hold those things
and others close,
 
Be gracious,
be thankful,
even if your words are whispered,
even if they’re barely heard.
 
For the warmth which will
flourish within your soul,
to love and to share,
to give and to hold,
 
It’s your story,
your life,
be ever thankful for the
small and precious things,
they’re what matter the most,
it’s what others have always told me.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by TanteTati from Pixabay

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  • Poem: An Historical Hourglass – 31/05/20

    Poem: An Historical Hourglass – 31/05/20

    Time spent,
time passed,
overlooking the trickling hourglass.
 
Many years have been told,
my stories of old,
projected through this object.
 
Each grain of sand
a moment,
an event, or emotion captured in time,
 
treasuring my history,
whether it be beautiful, depressive, 
riddled with angst, or shining exceptionally bright.
 
When I see these events 
or moments
slowly fall to the vessel’s section below,
 
I am reminded of
the feelings,
my recollections take hold.
 
And how I have grown
from a petulant being
to a wiser, more worldly woman,
 
I pride myself on being accepting,
compassionate,
playful, joyful, and loving.
 
Though the history
was filled with
great turmoil,
 
I can empathise with others more
because of my winding paths undertaken,
my twists and my twirls.
 
To be loving and forgiving in almost all respects,
it’s taken many years of learning –
I’m finally here,
 
I am more accepting of
what has been, what has passed,
and what might never be.
 
I possess the maturity
to no longer take umbrage
to slights or underhanded insults,
 
nor do I heavily and negatively
circumspect
or wallow in self-doubt.
 
I glance back at and into the hourglass,
though I know rumination
has its place,
 
let me allow the tales of old
to become simply historic,
in my mind, only saved.
 
There is no need to cling
to the grains of lost dunes,
I’m much happier now,
 
warbling, singing
my own tunes,
mischievous and loud.
 
Towards the future
I look forth,
the final sand grains fall,
 
into the lower portion
of the hourglass,
quietly, now settled.
 
And I guess that’s just it,
I must permit the past
to delicately drift away,
 
Lessons and strength
have been learned,
I’m fresh to face another day.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by annca from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Lifted Restrictions – 29/05/20

    Poem: Lifted Restrictions – 29/05/20

    Freedom,
didn’t we all take it for granted?
The ability to walk with friends
in the park,
to sit on the bench with others,
or crouch by the pond feeding curious ducks.
 
Our ability to visit loved ones,
friends, family,
separated we had become.
 
The isolation felt so strange,
the family dog could only be walked
so many times,
working from home,
teaching and caring for children simultaneously,
hectic moments,
stress,
mayhem,
pressure bubbling.
 
But now it’s as though the clouds
have shifted,
sunlight shines down upon us,
warming our kind
as we open up,
lifted restrictions,
returning to somewhat normalcy,
and grateful we be
to know that our lives are
becoming what they used to be.
 
Now we are thankful,
realising what we had,
and excitement and trepidation
run alongside each other,
entwined,
little patters of fingertips grasping their hands,
some worriedly claim our freedom's returning too soon,
while others yelp hooray and cause a joyous hullabaloo.
 
Allow us to enjoy our freedom,
the sunlight,
she finally came,
and not a moment too soon,
she’s present with her warming life,
now our reunions:
hearts against hearts,
embraces expressed as love is loudly proclaimed.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Escape Room – 28/05/20

    Poem: Escape Room – 28/05/20

    Fingertips against the wall,
pressing, gouging,
wanting to get through,
but no way out.
 
I am aghast at this imprisonment –
four walls slowly caving in.
Like impending doom,
they inch in all around,
closer and closer,
it’s growing difficult to breathe.
 
Why this state of insanity?
Am I deserving of its encroachment?
My mental state,
my lack of solid coping mechanisms,
Why, how to survive,
this condition, this condition?
 
The walls now turn to nausea,
the sicker I become,
apprehensive glances of my own,
the walls’ will be done.
 
And now they smile,
they cackle,
they absorb my light –
away!
Slumped in a lonesome corner,
left quietly to decay.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

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