Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poems

  • Poem: Morning Walks – 30/07/21

    Poem: Morning Walks – 30/07/21

    Horizon stretches so far away
    early in the morning,
    sunlight drenches, beckons,
    welcoming with fingertips
    gentle and knowing,

    strokes of sunshine,
    pristine perfection,
    our hearts pound as
    upon the pavement
    our pattering feet move,
    reaching our goal,
    though it matters not so much now
    as the bonding time does,
    this is so very true.

    My eyes dance upon the
    scene before us,
    pathway, passing neighbours,
    fluffy companions,
    smiles or avoidance?

    Masks may hide greetings
    but they cannot shield the
    glimmer and shine within eyes,
    and while the present climate may have
    crushed some from wanting to
    pass our forms,
    we know they’re practicing safety
    and looking after us and themselves.

    Still, I can’t help but feel a
    brushing off sometimes,
    it’s okay,
    if they’re afraid,
    we know the drill.

    Sometimes we cannot smile,
    but inside our hearts are
    grateful for being allowed out,
    to laugh and chat with each other,
    discuss our troubles and blessings with
    one another.

    The occasional Good morning! or
    brightened set of eyes
    are something to look forward to,
    inside we know that eventually
    the fear within the hearts of others
    will fade away.

    These days,
    these days, it’s different,
    though, like before,
    with time,
    it will return to the same.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by James Wheeler on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Strive’ – 28/07/21

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  • Poem: Strive – 28/07/21

    Poem: Strive – 28/07/21

    Consciousness creates change
    as I travel down a new path,
    my negative thoughts alter themselves,
    a turning point, a fork in the road,
    I do not beg to ask,
    consciousness is what creates our reality,
    I become what I think about, the most,
    my reflections flash as I stare into a clearing pond,
    eyes of goldfish bulge and bond,
    their gaze adjoins with mine,
    their forms start to bob,
    they rise for more,
    they learn to trust,
    a human with gentleness for them as one.

    I will never reach a point
    where I’m wholly complete,
    to finish this existence early,
    why, a thought ever so dreary,
    never having to reach for improvements,
    never again experiencing eternal growth,
    manifesting more,
    more,
    aligning my journey is required,
    to become in a way I’ve never known.

    While I am enough and enough is
    what I shall perhaps remain,  
    understanding the rise and fall of my life
    in parts and in its entirety,
    manifesting, creating,
    knowing,
    differences yet still the same,
    using the negative moments that allow me
    to know what is unwanted,
    and what can be improved on to rise forth,
    and grasp hold tightly, so firmly, upon this ride,
    a personal state of feeling so utterly divine.

    I will strive to feel good no matter what,
    whatever the situation or travesty,
    I will distract myself from pains and lack of
    positive source wholly and knowingly,
    altering my judgement,
    my anger and sadness from me,
    focus on the future,
    on all things possessing positivity.

    There is much work to be done,
    I acknowledge this myself,
    so much time has been spent
    wrecking myself,
    I need to undo the harm,
    backtrack the repeated mistakes,
    unravel the consciousness
    and become more, more,
    like I’ve tried to,
    and am trying to,
    as of late.

    A picture is worth more than I can currently accommodate.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Flushed Magnolias’ – 28/07/21

    Previous Post: ‘Rows of Rosies’ – 26/07/21

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  • Poem: Flushed Magnolias – 28/07/21

    Poem: Flushed Magnolias – 28/07/21

    the strength within is something which
    must be seen,
    peel away those layers,
    let us view within,
    the armour, so thickly wrought,
    over years of abuse and mockery,
    self-taught, self-taught.

    darling, it’s time to make that move,
    inhabit a better place,
    wipe away your gloom,
    shine bright unto another day
    and then the next,
    your armour always protects,
    come what may.

    I know, I know, sweetheart,
    that at times it hurts,
    recalling that past behaviour,
    sour-filled words,
    you didn’t speak kindly to yourself,
    you spoke down to your ego,
    denigrated your heart,
    and at times, you tore yourself apart,

    but now, you can reach forth,
    aim for the stars,
    show that strength within that
    came with truth, experience,
    and the strongest of arms.

    know this, darling,
    my sweetheart,
    the yearning
    for more, from life,
    from your world,
    the pain is done,
     
    watch as your kingdom will come,
    truth be told the errors of self-talk
    will come undone,
    and your language will become fluent
    with self-love.

    it’s time to breathe freely,
    no encumbered breaths,
    infant-milky scent,
    from innocence you have grown,
    and into more, a strong woman
    you have become,

    in fact, shed that armour,
    for its strength has become a
    part of you,
    there’s no need for chainmail
    or steel layers
    when life’s become more peaceful,
    beautiful,
    more spiritual
    than a vase of flushed magnolias.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by photos_by_ginny from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Rows of Rosies’ – 26/07/21

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  • Poem: Perfect Imperfections – 24/07/21

    Poem: Perfect Imperfections – 24/07/21

    Desperation doesn’t dance in my lair no more,
    ancient lands where false paradise laid in store,
    I drag my feet, trail my hair,
    catch myself in a transient mirror,
    I stare, lower gaze, then bravely rise,
    continue to stare some more.

    It’s difficult to gaze into ‘imperfections’
    that make myself me,
    my mind calls out with interjections,
    telling myself I’m exactly the way God intended
    me to be,
    self-acceptance,
    understanding,
    it slowly grows like soft moss within,
    flourishing,
    lush,
    promising,
    plush and ever-green.

    The sadness that used to plague,
    the desire, the want, to always change,
    the need to shrink, slim,
    now I raise a hand craftily,
    cock one hip,
    I am cheeky,
    for I know the secret here,
    I became more within,
    image doesn’t always have to fuel
    internal fires,
    in fact,
    focusing out the outer can fuel
    a dangerous inferno,
    an unwanted din.

    It is what is within that counts,
    am I happy with how I’m feeling,
    that matters most,
    am I confident,
    can I take my world in my stride,
    get up upon that rhetoric in life,
    and ride, ride, windswept, breathless,
    in control,
    ride?

    With maturity came preservation,
    with preservation came self-understanding,
    comprehension, direction,
    I know what truths I am sowing,
    even without the drive to direct in just one direction,
    I know, I know that my heart and mind
    are peaceful together,
    they’re becoming a solved puzzle of
    correct interaction.

    My soul doesn’t call out for acceptance,
    no longer calls out for
    painfully obvious acknowledgement,
    I don’t need the eyes to
    view what I already know,
    that my presence is enough,
    I am enough within this world.

    My heart, once a prison,
    is a cage thrown open,
    the dove is free for escaping,
    but she remains,
    treasured,
    adored,
    she is amazing,
    her own form of perfection,
    in short, she makes it.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Luminous’ – 22/07/21

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  • Poem: Battlefield – 19/07/21

    Poem: Battlefield – 19/07/21

    As I sit in my rocking chair
    I ponder to myself,
    what is there to contemplate or even know,
    how should I proceed in life,
    these stumbling blocks keep coming,
    they are rife,
    and they trash my days and hours,
    slitting them open like warm butter
    attacked with a knife.

    Eyes within, they glower,
    witnesses who think they know me more than me,
    so much better,
    they glance upon with mediocrity in their eyes,
    pity begins to flower.

    I cannot help myself,
    despairing feelings overwhelm,
    they irritate and sadden me all
    at the same time,
    emotions coagulate,
    they brew inside of me,
    whilst the others watch on freely,
    I’m ashamed in this moment
    to be such a sensitive entity.

    Because usually, generally,
    I am adamant,
    I do not let damp sadness get the
    better of me,
    and yet
    here I am,
    looking out upon myself,
    like a sad sack of sand on the pavement,
    where is my power,
    my strident ability to rise above
    this ailment?

    Still, I sit,
    rock and rock away,
    mechanically, forward and back,
    whiling away the day,
    and eventually, the aches and groans internally
    might fade away,
    there’s no room for brightness but
    at least the clouds have maybe cleared
    for the day.

    And perhaps this is all a mere moment which will
    pass away,
    the gloom will leave this room,
    this mental space, cavity, prison, I’ve assumed,
    soon I will take the reins
    and ride forward, tossing my mane here and there,
    astride will I ride into battle
    without a single care.

    And then I will pre-empt the almighty force
    that beckons and crawls to me
    making me feel so unassured,
    I will become belligerent toward the pain,
    I will hunt it down,
    I will triumph above,
    sadness squeals in vain,
    how about that,
    I tell the witnesses,
    as I dismount my beast,
    evermore the battlefields with my
    courage and valiant honour
    are stained,
    I have allowed them to see
    the true me.
     
    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Away Without Leave’ – 18/07/21

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  • Poem: Seasonal Affective – 17/07/21

    Poem: Seasonal Affective – 17/07/21

    Today’s been a struggle
    I must openly admit,
    not feeling seasonal affective,
    but rather seasonally dejected,
    my mind, it swims with sadness,
    amiss is my prowess, my brightness gone,
    my ability to deal with
    rejection or silence
    when reaching forth to others
    with smiles or hopeful song.

    I know the root cause,
    the depletion of my nightly dose,
    and also the lacking of ample sleep
    which my body and mind are
    craving the most,
    my ability to combat little things,
    my lacking in ability to cope,
    why can’t I be like others,
    or simply possess the usual
    resilience of myself?

    I know I must sleep,
    I know I must practice self-care,
    but how can I lay my head
    down to rest
    when I am unable to
    stop my mind ticking,
    from working in a manner where
    every ounce of energy is sapped?

    My energy stores refuse to replenish themselves,
    I should knock myself on the head,
    and tell myself
    enough is enough,
    you need the former amount,
    don’t be stubborn,
    reinstate your medication dose!

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels

    Previous Post: Sunshine Blogger Award! – 16/07/21

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  • Poem: The Flea Market Contraption – 15/07/21

    Poem: The Flea Market Contraption – 15/07/21

    The flea market presents –
    options – one-of-a-kinds,
    and rip-off pieces,
    poor imitations,
    badly woven threads,
    lurid patterns,
    blatant patent breaches seen,
    and the imaginary,
    the ingenuity,
    and the copies of a land
    in between.

    I peruse the stalls,
    pace back and forth,
    my timid tippy-toes,
    they don’t guide me,
    they don’t lead me,
    I’m unsure of what to
    sample in this flea market
    land I’m in.

    Some ideas are magical,
    well-presented products,
    smartly dressed merchants
    in hide-away stalls,
    others are horrid,
    they hurt my eyes,
    these products, rubbish,
    unworthy of meeting
    hands or eyes.

    Amongst the trash and beauty,
    objects I see,
    I spot a contraption that
    might be for me.
    It is the making of
    cloudy billowy dreams,
    sanctified, certified?
    No, but perfect for I.

    It promises to churn through
    all my ideas,
    promises to rid me of
    encumbering fears
    and will lay away
    any confronting questions
    thrown my way,
    it will replenish my mind
    for many days.

    A mind-clearer,
    a dream-recycler,
    a precious gatherer
    of many mental pictures,
    the imagery within,
    perhaps barely initially seen,
    unclouded, decoded,
    all work done,
    prepared for me!

    But then I wonder
    is this not like a disease?
    Something which eats away,
    erodes at my dreams?
    Erasing me in ways
    I dare not speak,
    by bluntly, superficially
    simplifying me?

    And I cannot have this,
    I must remain complex,
    hard to delve into,
    thoughts difficult to be met,
    and so away with
    this idea,
    this contraption for me,

    I’d rather be convoluted,
    a puzzle unsolved,
    until I’m ready to make
    the pieces fly free.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Adorn’ – 14/07/21

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  • Poem: Adorn – 14/07/21

    Poem: Adorn – 14/07/21

    Toss the book aside,
    the one with all the rules,
    adorn thyself with personal care,
    self-love,
    amalgamate the zones
    around the heart and mind,
    Complicated? Yes.
    Internal battle,
    discoveries,
    what a sheer delight.

    Perhaps I can learn
    how to rise,
    to gather wind,
    a magical,
    momentous Me,
     
    for,
    I now have direction,
    I have purpose,
    it’s taken some years,
    dragged ten behind, in fact,
    maturity intact
    yet preserved as immaturity,
    I now realise the purpose of
    the lock on my documents,
    the purposeful silence in keeping
    me from me.

    Until now.

    I sing into
    the skies,
    shriek with delight,
    stroke my tones,
    words real and imaginary,
    so right,
    I’ve been looked after by an Almighty,
    my future seems bright.

    Akimbo was I,
    but no longer unsteady,  
    evermore will I
    emit my triumphant confessions,
    my elegies
    and head on toward
    the horizon,
    I’m sure it’s amazing,
    what’s waiting for me.

    I will reach certain peaks
    with hard work,
    it’s all up to destiny?

    No, sweet darling,
    it’s all up to me.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Precious Penny’ – 14/07/21

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  • Poem: Precious Penny – 14/07/21

    Poem: Precious Penny – 14/07/21

    And here we are,
    oysters, with caressing shells,
    guarding our precious cargo,
    treasures which bloomed,
    prized is our interior,
    luminescent, pearlescent factors,
    created by us,
    we are magicians,
    view our splendour,
    sorcery,
    shall we slay the mirror?

    For, creation,
    this semblance of wonder
    in our lives,
    the more I enter my
    inner being, the more
    I find my, our
    potential utterly amazing,
    to have created something
    from barely anything,
    such beauty,
    astounding.

    While pink is mine,
    yours is blue,
    together we ballooned
    with satisfaction and bliss,

    off the beaten track,
    lean in for a kiss,
    the farmer reaches in
    and wrenches Little She from me,

    and now, darling,
    bereft I am,
    so empty,
    they have taken away my precious penny,
    but it was meant to be this way.
    I create, they harvest,
    I am forlorn,
    used,
    but truly, before the thieving,
    I’m always treated like their princess.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Especially Now’ – 13/07/21

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  • Poem: Especially Now – 13/07/21

    Poem: Especially Now – 13/07/21

    Bright pink like the heated
    breath of dawn,
    little extracted curled
    sleepy tongue.
    Interest’s sake,
    keep her warm,
    I want to breathe fire,
    what an urge,

    do not drag thy feet,
    this isn’t a dirge,
    but rather, a celebration,
    of family,
    love,
    good humour,
    ask about our existence
    and I’ll say:
    Preserve us with a picture!

    Lean forward with interest,
    extrovert takes over the show,
    but darling, it’s not about you,
    it’s about us five,
    and she, lovingly attended to.

    I’ll breathe in her scent,
    it is locked in her scarf and beanie,
    an olfactory reminder to be experienced,
    recalled soon,
    or retrieved hastily,
    should there be need,
    to be seen,
    comforting reminder,
    I think I may have need.

    For now, though,
    we are gathered here today,
    loosely, casually,
    then tightly reunited,
    accepting these precious moments,
    wouldn’t you know it –
    chicken soup is good
    for the family and soul,
    but the company,
    company means everything,
    especially now.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Falsetto’ – 12/07/21

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