Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • reflection: sadness and awakening – 29/03/22

    reflection: sadness and awakening – 29/03/22

    On this path of awakening, sometimes sadness overwhelms me. Today, I spent mostly in bed, sleeping away the misery. I have stagnated, all energies no longer move forth, I snipe, I want to be heard, but in complaining, my head is then bitten off, my thoughts fail to unwind.

    I don’t need solutions, I need to be listened to, and that realisation needed to be attended to. But then words like a drill sergeant were barked in my ear; I wanted to retreat, sleep further, have the cruel tone nowhere near.

    I am rarely like this. So when I am, I want to be allowed to wallow, be morose, as some might put it. The answer is this: just listen, do not yell nor hiss, I don’t need raised voices, what I need is kindness.

    Eventually it arrived. I thanked them for this.

    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by darksouls1 from 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: cherished – 28/03/22

    the magic of the Universe calls
    spiral patterns curl
    reminding us of grandma,
    mother and child
    the lush serene nature
    of breath
    glows from Gaia’s glorious eyes
    enlivened spirits
    exploring elves
    glittering sprightly sprites.
    I am amazed by the clouded blue before me
    above rainbows threaten to fall
    magnificent oceans,
    raging and still, waiting
    for the next wet treasure from
    Nature’s dripping eyes
    a blessing unto the animals
    forest dwellers
    and rainforest homes
    deserts with Libyan sand
    and zircon from a mystical land we should roam;
    emerald green reflected in
    the water of savannah’s dreams.
    Magic all around
    this world we call home
    cherish it we must
    trees to shoot forth,
    the jungle cats
    sleek and pleased
    birds soar on high
    eagles rise, swans dive.
    Precious be the little bugs
    who escape most eyes
    rescued spiders then released from harm
    by hands who love them to hide
    entranced, enchanted
    by the world we have here
    already created for us
    respect Gaia
    let us not destroy this bliss
    remain spellbound
    know her
    love, seal Nature’s union with a kiss.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by KELLEPICS 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: universal aura – 24/03/22

    poem: universal aura – 24/03/22

    The universal white light surrounds me, an ethereal net, damp, floaty cloud so soft I bounce into, not against it… freeform, flow, billowy nature’s growth, it is like an extra being within the room, some giant, invisible, quietly huffing and puffing, he smiles as he cloaks my aura, now no longer a sunny yellow disposition, but made into a vagrant’s imposition…

    I am now unwelcome in this land, my journey blocked pathways, no obvious pillowed dreams.

    I silently make my wishes known, my love must be acknowledged, for the other, feelings owned, the waves within my mind and being speak of delicate imperfection. We wrangle in motion, arms flailing, tongues lashing, and I realise, without an understanding, what on earth has happened, I am seen only as a bother that must be cleanly slid away, beneath the rug, swept under, and this giant ghost of an aura which surrounds me now was employed by the best of them, a master in charge, something, someone from on high.

    I cannot determine his leader though, the degenerative nature still swims in his intent, and I know I must rid myself of this vagrant label before I become too spent. Enough of these games, I shrilly call to myself, and he, wherever his head and ears to register might be. A cloud of fluff is now not that exciting to see…

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by KELLEPICS on Pixabay

  • poem: robotic heart – 24/03/22

    poem: robotic heart – 24/03/22

    the standard rhythmic drum won’t work anymore,
    it’s not befitting to pound to the pulse of another’s heart,
    not when you alone know where to recommence –
    life truly is art.
    instead, her melodies, chosen to alternately warble about her,
    she and him, sometimes others, but back to him,
    a tear threatens to erupt
    from the dormant succession of her formerly frozen heart,
    it’s as though she should quash feelings
    signs of ‘weakness’
    true emotions we are never
    meant to see,
    express:
    where’s that opening to ravage,
    insert a rusted key…
    damaged, disasters,
    they went too far,
    whilst awaiting her to prepare
    to together look at the galaxy and her stars.
    she fell instead, nothing left to say, nothing more,
    to drag one’s name from the etched pavement,
    at least her time was predominately saved.
    that’s the thing of it, the matter
    throughout it all,
    she still possessed her beautifully poignant
    desire for a rapid rise to power.
    let us begin,
    all truths be told,
    hour by hour upon hours.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay.

  • poem: magic – 23/03/22

    poem: magic – 23/03/22

    dowsing the crystals with illustrious mayhem
    the tainted air of dragon’s breath, poison,
    enlightening myself to the treasures of the planet,
    the powers deep within me,
    I need not lace melodies from counterparts,
    I need not stunt my heart with mimicry,
    hidden behind obscure masks,
    no, there is strength in being myself,
    knowing, learning, stronghold,
    resilience from waking hour to the magical twelfth.

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

  • poem: centring – 22/03/22

    poem: centring – 22/03/22

    allowing her heart, green chakra to ache and heave
    breaths suddenly inert then heavier
    cast bronze statue of sin
    elaborate not the mishaps
    nor the immoralities
    untoward
    but feast upon the irreverence
    which rusts not that bronze
    but iron ore.
    karmic connections hence grow more
    and soul contracts stately dreams
    within her eyes
    she wants nothing more than to
    take the journey
    rip it by its seams,
    cherishing not the path,
    but the destructive nature, demise,
    of everything she thought
    she’d ever need.
    substance, subtract, divide,
    understanding the atrocities of current sins
    and wreaking havoc with subtle powers
    which give more away than sensational pages
    could ever hide,
    there’s nothing more to dictate
    she’s heightened, aware,
    rest assured,
    by her side her hand twitches,
    certain powers are abhorred,
    but her strength within,
    grown more and more.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by 0fjd125gk87 on Pixabay.

  • poem: spiritual beauty, soft melody – 22/03/22

    poem: spiritual beauty, soft melody – 22/03/22

    the dance the flautist sweetly breezes her melody,
    I can barely hold myself together
    that breath which creates wonder
    not an insolent din,
    fires once raged
    and sins were born
    but hell hath no current feature,
    gone, perpetually, is that scorn!

    no devils raging on shoulders,
    no carrying heavy loads to break
    weary backs,
    they do not prance their fiendish means
    above the line of fresh air,
    because, because,
    they are no longer there.

    free of sin
    and lightly taking in
    the trilling shrill song,
    breezing
    of the instrument filled with delight
    and winding heart song, streams,
    what is it they look for
    what is it they search for now?
    peace, serenity,
    and then jubilance all around!

    angels ring and angels call
    they embark upon journeys
    to those one-lost souls
    perpetuating the knowledge
    of a thousand years,
    the collection,
    the atoms,
    enlightening.

    purple: violet and lilac,
    yellow: citrine and gold,
    ruby in her richest red,
    and pink, mauves,
    all around.
    And rose gold surrounding
    that symbol of love,
    yes, this integral melody,
    beautiful piece,
    has been carefully constructed,
    for the flautist, carefully made
    like a perfect bouquet for her
    grown.

    He takes her hand,
    as gently as can be,
    enlivened soul,
    enriched loving eyes,
    they know truest loves meant to be,
    deep inside.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash.

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  • poem: arm in arm – 21/03/22

    poem: arm in arm – 21/03/22

    Multifaceted and colours of the spectrum,
    a man romantic,
    with heart pounding
    for his love, eternal,
    to return to him again,
    their binding shade,
    deep violet,
    wondrous spiritual shade.

    they entered the world with floating stars
    when she decided to calmly
    leave this planet,
    she was relaxed,
    she knows her charms,
    arm in arm he accompanied her,
    then returned to a land, near not far.

    Oh, how loyal he is to her,
    it’s not just memories that keep her alive
    his sentiment for her is so pure,
    loving loving eternity
    they will never come undone
    here, nor the skies,

    betwixt for forever, a future lifetime
    still as One
    they will always remain together
    in heart, soul and mind,
    truest aching love.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image by Jo-B from Pixabay