Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: personal growth

  • Poem: Land of Inbetween – 30/01/21

    Poem: Land of Inbetween – 30/01/21

    Overwhelmed, 
    called away from the line of duty, 
    what do I recall?
    What is there to own as mine?
    Treasures of memories from a trove.

    Responsibility must be taken, 
    I can encompass my decisions as a whole, 
    the knowledge that I’m assisting, 
    even in small increments, 
    helping growth. 

    Of course, I cannot change others’ weaknesses, 
    I cannot control their reactions and commotions, 
    that is one left for the yearbook, 
    something to reflect upon during the consideration of the
    year’s cessation. 

    They can and will either learn to sink or swim, 
    I cannot make the decisions for them, 
    only self-advocacy, 
    support, 
    and aiding achievements, 
    the look upon their faces when having gained a success, 
    the lilt in their voices when they’ve grown and a future’s been seen, 
    now that is something to cherish,
    the first sign of the land of Inbetween.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Silver Lining – 09/10/20

    Poem: Silver Lining – 09/10/20

    There’s always an opportunity,
    a silver lining,
    the chance to advance,
    or gain at developing,

    the admirable qualities
    held within,
    a spark
    or a prism,
    beautiful rainbow rays
    can be seen.

    Even when circumstances
    appear dismal,
    tough, rough,
    and you’re
    asking yourself
    “Am I even enough?”

    Enough for what?
    Enough for whom?
    You, darling,
    sparkle,
    you light up the room.

    You can extract that
    hidden layer within,
    that shining silver
    how it glimmers
    for you,
    not her, not them,
    nor him,

    no, this opportunity,
    this journey is yours
    and yours alone,
    wrap yourself protectively
    as though it is your gown.

    Enclosed you are,
    but radiating opportunity,
    the beauty in the feeling,
    the beauty in the growing.

    And what’s more apt
    than shining and reflecting this
    back to yourself?
    You’re a powerhouse of strength,
    don’t let anyone tell you
    anything else.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Hian Oliveira on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Lantern – 04/10/20

    Poem: Lantern – 04/10/20

    I try to light the way for myself,
    only me at the present,
    for myself I can only take responsibility,
    but maybe in the future
    I’ll brighten the paths of others,
    allowing them to feel illumination from
    my positive attitude and candour.

    I smile and I dance into my path
    of least resistance,
    of least duress,
    the lantern which dangles from my wrist
    is warming,
    and comforting,
    no less.

    It shines so brightly it sears my eyes,
    I have to be careful not to glance at it for too long,
    it provides me ample light to distinguish the darkness
    from the path ahead,
    and promising me relief at last.

    There is pride in following a path of truth,
    there is great merit in exploring one’s past
    as well as their humble heart and mind,
    within their corporal home,
    swimming spirituality imbues,

    and there is magic in progressing forward
    and in the knowing,
    that I will continue to create,
    to make,
    to attain,
    to not have to again hide myself from the world,
    having to refrain.

    Refraining from shining is old news,
    now is the time to explore the inner strength,
    fortitude,
    strident being that I am.

    I tried to light the way for myself,
    but now I feel strong enough to take on the
    responsibility of assisting and guiding others,
    perhaps I can be their mentor,
    perhaps they can in turn mentor me,
    and in a circle of knowledge we will dance
    and feel joyous,
    so happy,
    inextricably.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Sylwia Bartyzel on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Rolling Waves and Green Pastures – 02/10/20

    Poem: Rolling Waves and Green Pastures – 02/10/20

    Rolling waves in my mind pass by,
    sumptuous, decadent,
    tidal, in their own time,
    I smile to myself as I feel the ebb and the flow
    of my thoughts travel singularly
    then as one,
    a conglomeration of multitudes,
    my will,
    coming along so beautifully,
    they could temporarily stun.

    This is my time,
    my springtime of my middle youth,
    where I have now grown and prematurely gone to pasture
    and I am taking in all I can,
    this is truth.

    I am relaxing in my moments,
    I am sinking in the hay,
    I am enjoying the fresh wind,
    the air,
    the breeze,
    it softens me,
    I smile to myself,
    and I wish that I could stay.

    I am at one with this world,
    I am becoming the strength I’ve long searched for,
    what I’ve needed,
    what I’ve come to depend upon others for,
    but now I am powerful,
    and I can ride those waves as though upon a creature
    battling the crests,
    with magical chimes and
    announcements sounding all around
    that I have arrived.

    I am profound,
    or at least, I believe I am,
    I hear these sounds,
    I take in the smiles,
    the welcoming body language and calls
    of my family,
    from the land, the water,
    the pastures,
    oh, such wanted sounds.

    I am accepted,
    but more importantly,
    I am accepting myself finally,
    I am here,
    in mind, body and spirit,
    finally,
    as one, not separate entities,

    and off the cuff,
    I compose gentle words in my mind
    as I watch the waves
    rise and fall,

    my heart,
    my mind,
    my presence,
    I will accept myself,
    flaws and all.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Fumbling Fawn – 28/07/20

    Poem: Fumbling Fawn – 28/07/20

    I am struggling to rise to my little hooves, 
I am failing to grasp hold of balance,
I am calling, calling, for this ability to visit me,
the skill to be mobile, to be free.
 
For so long, I’ve been unable to properly walk and stride,
how problematic for a soul for whom the desire to explore is so vividly alive!
Alas! I fumble, my extremities dance, not so subtle, nor nimble,
this fawn, I need my mama to guide my hooves,
my awkward legs, they wobble and tremble.
 
I tentatively rise,
she nudges my behind, permits me balance temporarily,
while I sway and sway
and then blindly fall, this time I smile
because it is between fawn and mother,
this clumsy style,
I am dancing my own moves,
and I treasure our routine for this little while.
 
Because Mama and I, she has not much time,
she must set off to forage, to collect for the needs of hers and mine,
she will leave me alone all day
while I manage my practice of walking,
try as I may,

perhaps she’ll not return in time,
perhaps she’ll never return at all,
how can I consider this?
My heart breaks,
my stomach plummets, it falls.
 
But for now, we dance,
she smiles, nudges me left then right,
steps upon my hooves to steady me,
as though a gentle holding of hands,
 
I am one of her truest loves;
Papa is busy leading the herd.
She knows she must leave me again for some time,
she promises to return later,
she nudges my cheek,
licks this warm nose of mine.
 
Oh, how I wish more of our time could
be spent all together,
Mama, Papa,
fawn/baby, mother, and father,
but it is not meant to be so,
we each have our set roles,
and I most certainly will take this challenge,
I will become nimble and learn not to fall.
 
It is essential to stand with my own sets of legs,
because one day, oh God, please don’t say when,
Mama and Papa may suddenly be required to go
and perhaps they shan’t return again,
it's a truth I do not want known.    

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

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  • Poem: The Mirror: In-Between and Afar – 23/06/20

    Poem: The Mirror: In-Between and Afar – 23/06/20

    I drag out my colours,
many hues to
create a show,
 
A popularity contest?
Or a forceful appearance?
How will the audience react?
Perhaps I already know.
 
I begin to create,
build the underpainting,
of the basics
of that face,
 
that wide-eyed,
mildly shocked expression
that shows she’s 
realised something,
or that some fact has her
strangely amazed.
 
Painstakingly – no!
Haphazardly yes!
Do I slap on her colours,
her pigments,

she’s really shaping up
to be a
beautiful one, you see,
tinges of 
hot then cool colours; 
convergence.
 
Borne of chaos,
borne of haste,
her hues shimmer,
her tones scintillate,
 
they really create that
visual realm
where we are
taken on a journey –
her journey –
but where did she travel?

No one knows but me.

Because as I look in the mirror
to reference the
painterly revelation
of my personality,
its travel, 
my development
here upon this Earth,
 
I smile to myself,
for the chaos has settled,
inner beauty and outward wonder
in my life have appeared,
they have shown their faces
at last.
 
Now the shades begin
to seamlessly blend,
coagulation of tints,
colours melt,
warming trends,
 
the appreciation in this
character’s eyes
for her world
is plain for all
to see.
 
Relaxed shoulders and posture,
thankful, ever grateful,
for the ability of self-development
and the ability to finally feel
so free.
 
From a frenzied presence
to a gracious, determined being,
for life’s progression and lessons
I thank my lucky stars,

I adore how life
has allowed much growth so far,
and my eyes,
those painterly eyes,
are staring right back at me,

no longer hollow or aching,
widened or shocked
but knowing,

understanding what’s beyond for
her and myself,
in the future,
in our Afar,

our qualities, our realities,
our emotional experiences,
this is the priceless wealth
of the land of In-between,
melded, we finally are.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo: myself 
Soundcloud background music: 
Music: Memory - AShamaluevMusic. 
Music Link: https://youtu.be/5D3JTidH59g

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    Poem: Damsel in Distress – 22/03/20
    
			
    Poem: Damsel in Distress – 22/03/20
    
			
    

    




    I used to be a damsel in distress,
I called and called to them,
to assist me with my longing heart,
yet all of them decided to leave.
 
I worked so hard on being that
which portrayed what I felt was visual worth,
without understanding that what mattered 
was not essentially looks
but a kind, warm, and caring heart.
 
Others stared as I went on by,
my chest filled with pride 
at knowing that I had drawn their eyes,
but what I didn’t realise was that 
I was only striking for a second,
perhaps when I opened my mouth I’d lose their attention.
 
In distress was I, 
I wanted to be known,
acknowledged,
accepted,
to be understood,
to receive the gratification that came with being wanted,
the validation I'd glean inside.
 
However, the turnstiles kept turning,
and the admirers kept disappearing,
only there for a few fleeting seconds,
I became more daring.
 
Then underneath it all,
I slowly realised
that I needed to work on myself,
not on the outer, exterior view,
what mattered was my mind.
 
My inner truths,
the way I would treat mankind,
and the most important things of all were love
and the fact that I was grateful,
that I was still breathing,
despite the haphazard, lethal points in my life.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash
    




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    Poem: The Sun is Pleased – 29/11/19
    
			
    Poem: The Sun is Pleased – 29/11/19
    
			
    

    




     The sun beams down upon me:
     he is happy with me today. 
     Sometimes he is disappointed,
     other times he may be sorely dismayed.
      
     But I can tell from his 
     loving warmth which spreads
     upon my complexion 
     that today he is pleased with me,
     and the steps I am undertaking in my life
     to cause positive action. 
      
     I am able to draw upon experiences which, 
     though once painful and caused 
     such internal suffering,
     can now be turned into something positive,
     as though to say,
      
     “Look where I came from, 
     and where I have been,” 
      
     then the comparison of what is fruitful and kind, 
     and what I have become,
     why, I’ve become myself again:
     from previous terrors there is 
     no need to run and hide. 
      
     The illness, the illnesses, 
     the secondary causes, 
     the uncontrollable sense of living,
     it was in no way assured.
      
     I lived flighty, in soaring delusional heights,
     I didn’t know what I was doing,
     only wished for worlds to explore
     and as I crashed and burned many a-time,
     faux pas and mental instability a-plenty,
     I wonder now,
     how it is that I am still here,
     alive,
     writing line upon line. 
      
     But I have healed from the brokenness,
     the fragility,
     the shattered scenes,
     and here I am, 
     living freely and openly breathing.
      
     I am here, 
     and I will take each opportunity as wholly mine,
     there is no need,
     no reasoning,
     to falter again,
     or trip down the line. 
      
     The sun twinkles in the corner of my eye,
     I think I see him wink. 
     I now know for certain that he is inextricably pleased.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
    




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    Poem: In The Springtime of Your Youth – 11/10/19
    
			
    Poem: In The Springtime of Your Youth – 11/10/19
    
			
    

    





    It’s like in your life the season is spring, 
     everything is regenerating;
     all is coming to life again.
      
     The flower buds protrude,
     the birds in their nests become
     obsessed with their new fledgings.
      
     Parents anxiously feeding,
     fussing,
     brightness and flock of a feather becoming.
      
     Your heart swells at the feeling that you too
     are appreciated,
     looked after,
     cared for with great gentleness and self-assurance.
      
     Not by another but by yourself,
     you almost feel as if you don’t deserve these
      moments here in this peaceful, blossoming world
     where you have assigned a place of love,
     a place of comfort,
     a place of personal growth. 
      
     Because here you will know of this more,
     soon when you realise that you are overdue for everything
     brilliant,
     because for you, my sweet,
     there are many open doors. 
      
     So do not cry at the notion that you are less than deserving, 
     do not allow a single tear to fall unless it is from
     your personal feeling of a blessing.
      
     And please love yourself
     within the headiness of this springtime air,
     embrace the birds, the circling bees,
     the hanging trees with their veils to avoid 
    their hidden passageways being seen. 
       
    Your heart needs to be open and willingly prepared for this care.
    




     © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.   
    





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    Poem: The Ribbon-Twirling Dancing Dolly – 06/10/19
    
			
    Poem: The Ribbon-Twirling Dancing Dolly – 06/10/19
    
			
    

    




     She joyously twirls bright ribbons yet feels dead inside,
     With a knowledge that what was once there, 
     Fresh-faced, bright, youthful, still alive,
     Is now broken, irreparable,
     Scattered in pieces upon the stage,
     An urban pavement,
     Nothing to show for the destruction,
     No sense of inner pride or holding her head up high.
      
     Her dolly-brightness is a façade
     The light and shade a humorous method
     At relaying that inside she is still ignited
     Still burning with life;
     One only has to look at her lack of brightened eyes
     To take in this scene with a sense of absent mirth.
      
     Oh, how she could have reached the heights
     Become more than she had ever been
     How she could have flown into the hemisphere
     Succeeding and achieving at building a life
     Of her own.
      
     But here she is
     Dead as a doornail because of the path that she chose,
     To vacuously entertain and be admired rather than use her mind, 
     To exercise the chemistry of her intelligent brain

     For a while she was simply an amusement
     A joke
     Something mocked behind open hands 
    Just something to be viewed in passing
    upon the set stage.

     But with time, hopefully she’ll rectify her life
     Breathe in once more
     And live a great freedom, a life
     Without recollection of that strife.
      
     Because dollies are meant to play
     Entertain their owners 
     Give them joy for hours upon days
     And seemingly there is nothing wrong
     With amusing another
     When it is performed with great respect of oneself
     And with an allowance of renewed life and vigour.
      
     Thus, with her self-justification and self-talk
     She feels less dead inside now,
     Her stitched-shut eyes now become visible once more,
     Brightened with the knowledge 
     that her presence is again wanted
     She is popular,
     Not cast aside onto the floor. 
      
     A renewed sense of popularity,
     A chance to regain a zest for life,
     To provide them with who she was meant to be -
     Now,
     She throws down her ribbons
     Which kept her bound and down.

     Altered, affected and no longer ill at ease
     She strives for something more,
     Something less vapid,
     A role in life where she could be
     Acknowledged as being more than what she’d been designed for,
    Her eyes are finally open enough to see. 
    




    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
    





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