truest nature of the soul
will shine unto the light,
creating carriers, pathways away
from darkness into the night,
echoing, reverberations
of goodness ‘neath nestled shrouded warmth,
armfuls of wonder,
hearts joined in circumstance,
yours, mine,
forever healed,
mine and yours.
compassion opens
sleepy eyes,
careful mouthy yawns.
what awaits us this present early morn?
what will take us away from dawn?
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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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
Be not bitter nor jaded
but grateful, sublime
is this life we are living
if we don’t allow precious time
to pass by, unrecognised
unwanted,
ambiguous truths be told,
live a metamorphosis while
your inner beauty becomes,
be brave, take the reins,
be bold.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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I don’t feel like writing,
no inspiration to scribe,
my subconscious thoughts
once delirium,
no vacuous,
I want to hide,
to burrow my thoughts beneath
the doona,
my sheets,
embarrassed, uninspired,
where have you gone, Poetic Dreams?
Replaced instead with moods,
dreary, morose,
I cannot see positivity further
than my nose,
what happened to the ability
to contemplate? It seems
it’s gone with the wind,
awaiting a delivery, please.
Extract from my mind
the encumbrances,
the barriers to ambiance,
the inability to fly freely
with the pen,
my mind, it needs to mend,
to see itself, its contents
in the reflection
then thought’s will be
quantified,
quantifiable,
my ability returns
to be seen.
Gently, tenderly
then will great haste
and aplomb
my pen’s ink dances
across the paper
sending my soul alive
from numb,
pulsating with fervent hope,
delectable swirls and loops,
my frantic handwriting’s proof
that listless writer’s block
can be wiped away
with hopeful, passionate views.
I shan’t allow my feelings
which depressed,
to return, again,
at least not so soon,
I will bask in the luxurious luminance
of the inspiringly full and
enlightening Moon.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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I sit with eyes upon the fire
Incandescent
Glowering hour
Revealing to me
Curls and flickers
Reminds me of
your internal power.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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Nothing to be depressed about,
so positive,
so joyous – so free,
encumbered paths we could say
but ecstatic I choose to be,
it’s about which side to view
and walk alongside Life,
I could pinpoint, acknowledge,
tiny points of strife,
elaborate,
with magnitude,
some attitude filled with,
rife,
with annoyance, with irritation,
or feelings of ‘discrimination’.
But the truth is I’m blessed
to be here, well and breathing,
the strength, resilience, in
myself and others I am seeing,
I could list all that’s here for us,
right and lasting,
lingering,
hope, especially,
is something I am carrying.
I am grateful for my health,
my family, my dear friendships,
my comforts, and deep love,
Life’s material things,
those which bring comfort,
music, sound, paint,
art, colours, company combine,
I don’t chose to inhabit positivity —
instead it’s bred within me.
Cast aside, long ago,
the feelings of downbeat,
downtrodden,
the ‘world’s against me’s’,
I didn’t need to be like that,
to live like that,
it was so stifling,
couldn’t breathe.
Negativity can suck one into
its slimy, vicious grasp,
no enlightenment within,
to exist then – what a task.
Turned about face to the sun,
arms thrown open,
embrace that amazing warmth,
while I could find saddening points to exist upon,
I’ve decided instead to be
bright, bright, bright,
radiance fills my lark-song.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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Tempt the temptress, her former lucid life,
where round and about the memories
her behaviour once was rife,
and haunting her, within her sheets
is music sounding on repeat,
that jingle jangle, emotive, replete,
hanging on the edge,
fumbled footsteps on a road so steep,
into history these words shall keep.
Taunt not the woman for being dumb-
founded by the options before her,
numb, was she, her vision pure,
or so it seemed,
far less than demure.
But undertaking the melody is syncopation,
unexpected haunting dreams,
the -ah-ah-ah of off-beat rhythms,
heartbeat pounds, beating mallets,
her ribcage is the prison.
Because it was her heart that was the cause,
the prisoner, too, so wondrous yet lost,
yearning for that which should come to be,
would it ever be? Her soulmate, would she see?
Understanding there are many out there,
available to pick-her-apart,
and knowing that which would also drive,
sending her mind and pulse, alive, alive!
But it was required, really,
that her baggage be left,
at the entranceway before her path
could be walked yet,
reaching, open arm, open hand,
open palm,
for someone to love her,
and him in return.
The bittersweet madness of the executed times
would send her cursed tale
forward, centre, and front,
but care little would the true one,
the one who will decide to watch her with
widened, adoring eyes,
sweep her in his arms and enliven himself
with her wit, her truth, her character, intelligence,
and charms,
no excuses, no lies.
She does not boast, she knows truly within,
she’s worth much more than bad behaviour
experiences,
expletives within!
Wipe away times of hurt,
unappreciative, taunting words,
moving forth to the future,
where she won’t ever need to call for anything,
anyone,
yearning? No, hear her, watch her eyes learn.
Goodness will come to those who listen
at every turn.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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I lived a dream
so raw, impure,
and now it seems
my path’s demure.
Remaining chaste,
living only for good,
giving to the common man and woman
like I know I should.
Smiles all around,
humble lips and ears,
braggart not,
enlightening my path
as I resurrect it,
my journey as I learn it
I correct it,
I accomplish some of my finest
whilst living life in earnest.
Ask me not of
prior names,
accolades nor
feigned dames,
no time assured
from then to now,
ask me not,
for I won’t tell
nor frown!
Undoing that which
needed to die,
needles prickling
where sleepin’ dogs lie,
leave the past,
search the present with haste,
tomorrow is but a date,
cement my fate!
I can rest assured
that future truths
will be enriched with
bounty of beauty,
experiences willed,
impassioned by thy Source,
my energy thrives and lives,
peace be unto
this urchin, my sins
I decided to forgive.
Prior memories don’t last,
I’m thankful to not recall,
all in all
I’m living, breathing
my all,
my search for myself,
and my treasured path,
with warmth,
humanity is finally welcoming me,
great love at last.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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Nestled in the womb of creation,
perils face the existence of human civilisation;
birthing much chaos and delirium,
unknowingly, we settle in,
unaware of what our future both promises
and what it may bring,
ever-open hands reach for warmth
outside our hollows,
to worldly next-of-kin.
Hope bears feathers, perched in soul,
humming a frequency beyond words;
the eternal cacophony gifting gold from the unknowns,
upon this hope we glide,
and then, as though, now sliding into
pirouettes with symphonic style,
the treasure bears more than we believed
able to be delivered,
let us adore these with calming eyes,
ecstatic hands, while feathers drift, softly land,
vivid types of wisdom only known to
enlightened woman and man.
The imprinted consciousness
upon the soothed clean conscience
of our astral journeying pillows
embodies the archaic knowledge
of the ancients whose remedies
and generational lineage lays
patiently in hibernation for the
pivotal metamorphosis of the spiritual development
of man amongst turmoil of the cyclical yugas.
In chrysalis, we lay,
pods enclosed with passion, with verve,
growing, minutely, each passing day,
fragments becoming whole,
engorging ourselves, we know that when
we enlarge our intentions, and mend and heave hearts,
there is no matter in internalising
this primordial knowledge
other than understanding we are coming to a close,
and still the beginnings, unknown,
our subconscious thread speaks of moments,
instances, which enlighten even if we do not fully attend,
but it is with innate knowing,
with peace and passion,
that hopefulness and truth breathe as a whole.
Copyright © 2021 Dios Raw and Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
– By Amber (Dios-Raw) and Lauren (Lauren M. Hancock)
Wonder streams through gaps
‘tween trees,
shrubbery welcomes gusty breeze,
laughter twinkles above horizon seam,
magic brightens eyes,
I’ve no inclination to leave this scene.
Hands entrust
something precious ‘neath
benevolent sun,
heart pounds,
mood ecstatic,
forged bonds,
yes! Cries of yes
affirms tearful nods.
It’s the beginning
of something precious,
glimmer in excess,
gems cut a shine,
refractions bold,
I stress,
dances of rainbow shimmer
upon her delicate finger,
his proud chest puffed forth
in a glorious manner,
as though a proud peacock,
strutting about now
with his love,
eternal partner,
fervent dove,
his salvation,
his lucky treasure,
his precious love,
now and forever.
The breeze bears witness
to this union,
cemented, emphatic,
bold and nuanced,
there’s admiration within her eyes,
his cast grateful passion
as he glances nigh,
for they are as one,
wondrous breeze streams past their joy,
circumstance is hearts quickened,
such beauty before I.
And now I retreat into
the freshness of the forest,
thinking I’ve viewed something
so special,
deep down, I know,
I am aware, that
his manner, so articulate,
and her acceptance,
thus glorious,
is enough to decide
that in my life,
I’ll welcome every warm,
heartfelt circumstance
with enveloping acceptance.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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