Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: love

  • micropoem: timing is nigh – 01/04/22

    micropoem: timing is nigh – 01/04/22

  • poem: time for change – 31/03/22


    “TIME FOR CHANGE”
    (c) 2022 by Lauren M. Hancock

    it’s time to change,
    to embrace love and life,
    there is nothing I would erase;
    each moment and breath
    a welcome moment
    or an opportunity to learn
    to grow and accept the phase.
    Time and time again
    I found myself on the plane of existence
    wondering when would Life listen, with her
    pinpricked ears would she discern my
    truest desires?
    Or would she smile fortuitously upon the request of others
    while piece by piece, brick by brick
    my own home laid unfinished, nowhere have I to place
    my handbag down,
    expected to be lingering already at home?
    We don’t even have a home,
    none with a shared hearth, with warmth,
    with comfort.
    Essentially, my love for you is meant to be
    a mistake,
    a princess fetched from her turret,
    tethered as, as of late.
    The magpie flaps and soars,
    joins the eucalypt leaves in a shading spot
    He, you, really are a protector, but now
    learn your skills, hone them further,
    Princess can be by herself for now.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by strikers on Pixabay.

  • poem: ghost bride – 28/03/22

    poem: ghost bride – 28/03/22

    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.

    Those recollections,
    Memories,
    Introspections,
    Interjections? No, not anymore.
    I don’t allow them to rise forth,
    Grinning ghosts and ghouls once dragging
    Like a wedding veil or dress trailing upon
    The rocky floor.

    No, our memories shan’t live on,
    No, no, they will never rise,
    Into the air like helium would,
    No air balloons for me to view,
    No future tears to cry.
    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by ImAArtist on Pixabay

  • poem: spellbound – 26/03/22

    poem: spellbound – 26/03/22

    This is inspired by a prompt on Instagram called ‘Spellbound’ from @mlhmusings. The title alone inspired me to write this piece, which is admittedly very different from how the artworks would have guided me on their own.

    Title: ‘Spellbound’
    By @laurenm.hancock ©

    I am spellbound by you, little darlin’,
    the little us which may never come to be,
    I am dreaming of you, sweet darlin’,
    the most precious princess we might ever see.
    Mesmerised I am by you, darling,
    thoughts of mystical magic you will flash,
    sweetheart, will you ever share your life?
    so many trials and tribulations
    threatened to thieve your conception,
    your true inner light will outlast.

    Some don’t encourage your arrival, dearest being,
    neither cajole nor inter you to shine
    the glory of your wondrous face: divine,
    the mildest then brightest expressions need
    never go to waste,
    apple of our eyes…

    My heart, our hearts, we shine with you,
    the ability to distinguish and slice through pain,
    Love will carry us through,
    a close-knit family,
    finally, our own,
    wishes naught yearned for
    nor cried for in vain,
    together, our lives will finally ring true.
    same, same and same.

    Our precious being, won’t you see?
    how eagerly awaiting we are for you
    to breathe,
    darling, view us, hear me,
    we welcome you with open arms,
    embrace your family,
    Star-child who decides to grace us,
    visit us from afar,
    accompanied by divine melody,
    sent from eons up above.

    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by guille pozzi on Unsplash

  • poem: kookaburras – 07/03/21

    poem: kookaburras – 07/03/21

    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. Slowly, slowly, starstruck, one is startled and soars to hide but her presence is noted, taken, assessed and made begotten, wondering what did she do to be ignored by hand holding little buttons?

    There is the cryptic and here within are the clues, of life we must undertake many different, many hues, I am certain that there will be challenges, here now I acknowledge the twittering magpies who always stay home with their children, and knowing their loyalty, I know our pills must be taken in order for the positive side of myself to inevitably be spoken and seen.

    Bespoke I was obsessed with but I must take nature in, for what she is, I am not truly a tempestuous thing, nor the tempest, not in reality, but here, I must feel the wind, the breath, and understand I am truly blessed and my life I can renew, and once again begin.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    07/03/22
    Image by Sandid on Pixabay

  • 1000 posts reached today – thank you to my readers

    1000 posts reached today – thank you to my readers

    Today I reached 1000 posts! I’ve been blogging at WordPress since early 2019. It’s been a long and winding road, full of ups and downs, repetitions and calls and cries, but I have finally made it here, and without you all, this would have been a shriek to a bleak blacked out wall, nothing to be seen, heard or felt at all. So I thank you, my dear readers, for sticking around, and reading my words, even when they became choppy and mean, and they became untoward. You still stayed, you still remained, and for that, I love you until the morning light rises and the moon won’t go away. I am so grateful for every single one of you, please celebrate with me and enjoy in a little drink together with me, too.

  • poem: lovers – 22/02/22

    poem: lovers – 22/02/22


    pathways and journeyman 
    women and lovers come along, stay by their sides
    they are stoic, they are calmers, 
    they wear quiet forms of armour, 
    protected by the ones they love, 
    their swords, their shields are made more potent, 
    because fighting evil and chasms and voids can be dark work
    all done in a night and days,
    without a form of talk. 

    Focus not upon the irreverent, 
    the naysayers, the belligerents, 
    and instead become entranced with beauty, 
    melody and love, 
    there is power within, if you see the beauty of a dove
    released from closed hands, with the most delicate of ease, 
    lovingly, lovingly, lives attended, 
    we, the couple will dream, 
    and now with our army of light and love, 
    we will make new pathways, 
    shining a light upon the cause. 

    there is nothing, Nothing, that can’t be stated for the truth, 
    I am there for this moment, I am here for the proof, 
    and I will become enchanted with the whistles, 
    the chirps among the trees. 
    O’ hark, a galah, oh hark, a kookaburra, 
    and hark, a morning magpie, and her lover, 
    and baby together. 

    The bent head of a dying rose that’s really just sleeping, 
    prune her not, 
    her scent so forbidden, only those worthy will sense her
    but never she censor her true remaining thoughts. 
    She has already done so by ivy wrapped around her base, 
    the shrapnel hidden tightly around her waist, 
    the armour tickling her jaw-defined face. 
    And a prince will lean in and breathe in the scent of her, 
    never forgotten, never to forget, that moment when these two
    had met. 

    © Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.  
    Image from Pixabay
  • Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    It feels so natural to speak the truth

    Embedded with Constance to see me through

    Upon the tips of my tongue

    A hullabaloo

    And an irrevocable meaning, melding

    Of heartfelt growling too.

    They’re, we’re indestructible, I know,

    View the airiness within me as my two delicates rose

    I need not have not

    Want for material things because the truth is

    My spirit is soaring.

    No matter what you say or do

    You cannot take me from the stars

    From the skies

    The sighs and I quickly taste that bitter pill

    Of poison

    For some refuse me heavens door

    No matter how hard I rap or knock

    I cannot get in …

    Frantic cries for Doc!

    The paid spread the mayhem

    LOST

    I calm myself

    It’s only motes

    Or dust

    My being is travelling

    Astral through the sky

    Whisper I sleep prettily and dream of

    Wonderful butterflies

    Shush as they encompass me

    Their light winged air begging me to stare at

    Their wondrous dramatic colours of sweet rich hues

    Nothing like where upon the earth,

    We are hunted for training

    For sailing for achievements

    For ENTERTAINMENT and more

    I am no more a sheep for fleece as steak is to hunger

    I refuse to be your sacrifice any longer r

    Before those guilty of harbouring powers from me for so many years

    Stuff you and your sister and your job cause your beard, because hey,

    I kinda like your beard. 🙂

    Returning in all seriousness, don’t cease my ability to soar, I don’t NEED you now, all I needs myself is my mind, my wits and the ability to laugh at funny situations.

    Because laughter shared is happiness gained, my love. Did you not know that?

    I like you more or less. 🙂

    (C) copyright 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • poem: twine – 28/01/22

    poem: twine – 28/01/22

    I send love and joy to the earthly forms
    soaring beings and ‘neath brewing storms,
    sending love to many many,
    and the sisters of three,
    who love to tug and twist and cut twine ‘neath the sea

    where I lived for many many years under the rotundas of mental health
    amongst dry retching desires and lengthy spells
    searching for love and so much more
    wrong place wrong time,
    I decide to soar.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • poem: war of the worlds/calling to archangels – 25/01/22

    poem: war of the worlds/calling to archangels – 25/01/22

    Brother and Sister

    The brothers come closer
    they materialise into view
    expecting the expectant dame to cry ‘adieu adieu’
    but she will not fall
    like a tree in the quiet woods she will not be felled,
    not even by a dark witch doctor with
    many alibis to tell.

    he holds the keys,
    swings with her melodies,
    he rhymes and rhymes,
    in unison in style,

    like youngest and child they sing to the heavens,
    mother mary they smile at her,
    the archangels they call to them.

    these two are kindred in some type of way,
    spirits never lost yet reunited by purpose,
    shall we say?
    but the truth of the matter is
    they both have their own loves
    they only sing together like gentle sparrow and dove. 

    who is the M who is L?
    who is the character that is perceived as
    well?
    is it the minority,
    is it the victim mentality,
    or is it completely another character,
    the malicious son of an entity?

    We shall continue this broadcast of enmity
    shortly,
    let us recommence dictating World War Three.

    Nacht.

    Copyright 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All right reserved.