Tag: past

  • poem: pink dress – 06/04/22

    poem: pink dress – 06/04/22

    Conspiring melodies,
    tongue-in-cheek parodies,
    beginning to recall memories,
    shove them down,
    place myself at ease.

    Jilted rhythms,
    a sonata heaves and breathes,
    escaping the melancholy,
    Dear, there seems no end to these.

    I waltz through artwork,
    it is my time,
    my time to spit forth images,
    not rhymes,
    that was a dragging tune that brought itself
    to harken my ears,
    enough to resolutely accept,
    enough of the feigned prowess, remember,
    always remembering,
    who you were before that pink dress.

    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock  Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay.

  • Poem: reflection – 13/12/21

    Poem: reflection – 13/12/21

    haven’t always been the best person
    haven’t perpetually been the kindest human
    in times of pain I lash out and let them have it
    my heart, wounded, dripping by the bloodied scourge
    and the very dagger sliced into my fragile ego
    drips drip drippps with overt sentiment and angry vehemence
    how dare I be slighted my mind will scream
    how dare I be wronged my pride shall call
    but the truth is, there are two sides to every story,
    and I can’t always be stuck playing, rewinding Side B
    hours and hours on repeat,
    lyrically paining.

    Side A has some truth to it, and best acknowledge,
    acknowledge the words permeating, winding
    so freely, because,
    there’s no point in dwelling on a broken empty situation
    which has no love for progress, for gratitude, for positivity
    nor feeling blessed.
     
    although what is love when pieces are sharper than
    fierce puppy needle teeth
    piercing my very being and allowing me to see, to see,
    that my latent anger, my fiercely wrought armour,
    my defences guarding were no longer needed,
    BUT, why look to the past, it’s something to learn from, yes,
    but I do not need to allow it to grace my world again.
    they are gone, never again to be seen, not even if the mouths
    of the world yawned open to engulf me,
    or perhaps, in their own twisted way,
    reward me.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (12/12/21)

    Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

    Previous Post: disarmed – 12/12/21

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  • Prose Poetry/Audio: contemplation — gusting down to earth – 04/12/21

    Prose Poetry/Audio: contemplation — gusting down to earth – 04/12/21

    I scatter the ashes from dawn to dusk, breathe the fire raging within, overtaking much of my ire, and I glance all around, gather myself as I rooooaaaar that sound; I am calling, calling for something – I wait for an approach, ears pricked delicately for any tiny sounds. Then, bouncing and bounding are some terrible two, a pair of angry feline-like beings whom will not cease their stares, their venomous fangs they gnash and gnash my way… punishment? Although what ills have I performed? That’s not for me to say. I fend off the creatures, with their wild, wild stares and ferocious, swiping claws until they realise, I can well-word myself out of any situation, at least the concept is correct – with a peeling away, they retract with their intent so flawed.  

    In fact, I am as innocent as some wet leaf drifting down to Earth: heavy, soggy, but with a tiny bit of mirth expressed from I as I observe the less-than-buoyant thing, like him, my heart is heavy, but unlike him, I will make it, there is that certain journey. This leaf and I have something additional in common: we carry a heaviness and knowing that there once was no chance for ascension – or so it felt –  because I gave into predilections, and that pathway I took, its consequences mattered not, for I was having fun, I would claim with bold insistence.

    The rule books, out the window, there was no decorum to see, no adherence, no willingness to be righteous, less private, my business available to feel, view, breathe, until now I guuuust myself in the buoyancy of available air… Soggy, heavy? No! Nein, nein, nein, I will not recommence that fate, save that eventuation for someone else more worthy for Destiny’s cruel fate.

    Over time, I have corrected my flight, my pathway, my right to determine my life with grace, honour, and might, I reversed the karma, strapped on, then off, certain armour, and now, free as an angel, I reserve the ability to side-swipe whomever with stars, stars, stars, irrevocable and blinding internal glamour. It didn’t come easy, this transformation of the self, it took dedication and hard work, but something that’s worth its weight in gold, more, in fact than this it is worth. It’s a life I live only once, and self-improvement was something I had to work on, I’m proud that I could decide, with the help, the assistance, support of many close others, I now know how to live, what to do, I am bursting with quiet pride.
    (03/12/21)   
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

    Previous Post: forged perfection: 02/12/21

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  • Poem: a gentler star – 23/11/21

    Poem: a gentler star – 23/11/21

    admirable
    this deceptive intent
    I’ve known you from before and really, well,
    the efforts aren’t well spent
    for I can see through the cage-work
    the fingers prised through the wired gaps
    trying to get through
    through to my heart
    when I’ve made it whole from pieces –
    a work of fastidious art

    I am freer now
    this much I truly believe
    I can believe what’s become because I’ve been there
    staring down the barrel of that emotional gun
    set to decimate me again and again
    because I allowed it
    out of control
    and fiery priestess I was

    but now,
    I am far calmer
    I carry a gentler type of karma
    something which reaches within and sings through
    others’ heavy armour
    lightening their load on their chests
    their breastplates cast aside
    allowing access
    no more great pride
    arrogance
    and I don’t need to hide
    ashamed of who I am was were
    I’ve become as light as that travelling star
    that memory of her you once held dear in your heart.
    (22/11/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

    Previous Post: last night – 22/11/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem and Spoken Word: carry on – 14/11/21

    Poem and Spoken Word: carry on – 14/11/21

    carry on carry on
    there is no time to regret
    past mistakes are mere moments
    take them with a grain of salt
    nothing more they’re already spent
    learnt lesson learning lessons yearning for more
    in a while
    because what is suffering is my heart
    aching heart
    for quite some time
    with many a-frantic style

    carry on dearest
    there is nothing to fear
    look forth for something sparkling
    to focus your dreary eyes near
    because you deserve that light in your eyes
    the widened delight
    god knows I was suffering many eons
    many plights
    just to meet my match
    my path my past all down the drain
    in fright? No, I will wrangle my memories
    and set them alight
    spent many hours weeks years
    detailing this fight
    this desperation
    for someone to complete me
    but here’s the crux of the suffering
    I am here already
    I am me
    I don’t need to reach a hand out
    to clasp another
    to airily dream
    to encapsulate me with this ambiguous other
    for time, precious time
    so much was wasted chasing mice not men
    and then underneath the surface
    were cataclysmic moments
    but why ponder
    why go under?
    trudge forth
    no, fly free,
    being the best that I can be
    and then I’ll announce myself as ready,
    ready for the world to see
    well, I’m already prepared, perhaps already there
    it’s the journeying that means this much
    so ever much to me.
    (14/11/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Alexandru Acea on Unsplash

    Previous Post: rise sprite rise – 13/11/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: Breathe Freely – 04/09/21

    Poem: Breathe Freely – 04/09/21

    I woke up today with this feeling
    improvements are coming my way.
    I roused today with this knowledge
    amid the blustering breeze
    gritty cares will be transported away.
    I am aware now
    that I am stronger,
    as I grow
    irreverent words pool,
    tide carries them to sand and soil, away,
    angelic beats of beauties in
    expiring melted snow
    heralding a new era,
    trumpets to ears —
    nothing much left to say,
    but, I was forthcoming,
    I severed a tie,
    temporarily it must be,
    unless truth, future and beauty
    cause the past to decay,
    and a lifelong extension may be necessary
    in order for me to freely breathe.  

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image source

    Previous Post: Arrival – 02/09/21

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  • Poem: Weeping Willow – 25/08/21

    Poem: Weeping Willow – 25/08/21

    Weeping willow reminds me
    of stormy challenges,
    of riotous heart poundings,
    of emotional damages.

    Weeping willow, fretting leaves,
    gives me a sense of hope,
    her bent back fingers
    laze,
    but within her, their pathway I know,

    like me, like you,
    as her,
    she represents such harmony
    within our souls
    there’s nothing raw nor taut
    if we’ve accepted that
    this world occasionally brings storms,
    and challenges and tribulations,
    crashing thunder, frightful thunder
    within our scope,
    within the pain, the suffering,
    the madness,
    we. are. able. to. cope.

    My weeping willow,
    garden feat’
    enlivens me,
    when she shows me that
    acceptance of turmoil is right,

    she’s there shrouding in the
    dead of night,
    even if I ask her if new, bold,
    resilience is right,
    I know, down to the last detail,
    every leaf, every length,
    what is mighty,
    being strong, fruitful,
    in this life.

    Fingers dragging
    but perception is
    calm, and the forecast
    is bright.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Fran on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Writer’s Blocked – 23/08/21

    Previous Post: Boldness – 24/08/21

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  • Poem: A Sprite’s Memories – 10/05/21

    Poem: A Sprite’s Memories – 10/05/21

    Sprite-like eyes,
    rainbow glimmer,
    delighting,
    no need to try,

    the sunbeams stretch
    from there to evermore,
    a chest-full of memories stored,

    but I flitter them
    to the wind,
    like vagrant butterflies
    they linger
    and they gain height,
    they soar,

    on the breeze
    they carry,
    unwanted, lightening
    their loads,
    becoming less heavy,

    until light as burnt ash
    detailing what I don’t want,
    ignited beneath that full moon,
    under the delicate sky,

    and an internal sprite dances
    without an imp,
    mischievous was he,
    playfully devious,
    some might have seen or agreed.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘In Pieces, Yet Whole’ – 09/05/21

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  • Poem: Does Time Really Heal? – 09/04/21

    Poem: Does Time Really Heal? – 09/04/21

    I wonder to myself, does Time heal most wounds?
    Does it help scab over the surface of gashes 
    more permanently than over a clumsy bruise?

    Will it fix the mistakes, 
    the errors of time gone by?
    Allowing for a reprieve, 
    a chance to redo the actions, rather than saying goodbye?

    Or perhaps Time heals the wounds and allows the person
    a chance to move on after aching for many moons. 
    Maybe the healing is a motion that simply occurs
    the less we think of them, 
    a widened universe that wouldn’t allow us to forget them so soon,
    but then thoughts of them gently intrude. 

    We needed the chance to digest the actions, 
    the gashes, the slashes, emotional warfare, and then…
    we have healed, it has taken Time, this we do know, 
    forgiveness may appear stupidity or ignorance, 
    but people are human, and mistakes we must allow for, 
    and dismiss, and for the future, know.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.    
    Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash               

  • Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    It’s considered ludicrous, 
    as this pencil draws as pen, 
    impermanence detailing permanence, 
    can history make amends? 

    In truth, in part, 
    will hope, will fresh knowledge renew?
    In truth, in whole, 
    intentions grown strength to strength 
    and full. 

    But, unmanageable, so it seems? 
    By a world of common sense and 
    split former seams,
    will future tense stretch in excess, 
    parading that which should shriek with joy, not distress?

    I speak of stitches, 
    popped at their entry points, 
    I mention stitches, 
    now being repaired thrice by thrice. 

    I speak of strings ringing with vibrato, 
    these fingers are tremulous, 
    gently rolling, 
    creating that beautiful musical sense
    now and for all tomorrow’s calling.

    But is there enough enveloping scope, 
    in the melodies nightly hushed, 
    in the tunes gently told,
    because one could be argumentative 
    and find insipid flaws 
    in shattered rhapsodies already spoke.

    One must be patient, 
    and wonder not, or perhaps continue to dance, 
    it’s dangerous around certain fires, 
    but some flighty ladies love to linger and prance.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  
    Image by Kateřina Hartlová from Pixabay      

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