Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • Poem: Visible Romances – 04/01/20

    Poem: Visible Romances – 04/01/20

     it is intentional — 
 i can tell,
 that this male is intending to impress.
 clean cut, sharply dressed,
 he expects nothing less than perfection from his guest.
  
 as we watch on through glass houses 
 from which we will 
 never throw any stones,
 we smile to ourselves, we giggle, this will be amusing,
 to view their expedited love story unfold. 

 but, place yourself in the position of his guest,
 is she there wanting to be impressed?
 or has she positioned herself in this experience 
 for something else entirely?
  
 it is unclear from her gleaming white teeth and 
 brightened blue contact eyes,
 the bleached hair with just a 
 smattering of tell-tale roots grown in,
 whether she and he are their perfect match
 or whether this situation is generally a set-up lie. 
  
 we sit and guffaw as he leans in for his first kiss,
 after a mere five minutes of being on his single date,
 how she leans in with great interest and intent,
 to meet his lips,
 isn’t reality a great lark,
 an enjoyment as we watch others exist?
  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

 Image by tookapic from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Dropped Mic – 04/02/20

    Poem: Dropped Mic – 04/02/20

     Speakers blare, expressing my ravaged thoughts as I 
 fail to stop and observe those surrounding me.
  
 My decibels ail those in proximity,
 near and far, their pain is surfacing.
  
 While I, an obnoxious lass in my second decade 
 smile and smile
 at the effect I now realise I am having.
  
 Finally, they, you, them, are all forced to listen,
 I cannot turn back the clock to decade two from three,
 for some things, truly, I am sorry.
  
 I up the ante and progress to screams – 
 will you not hear me?
 cannot you understand me?
 I am here, before your eyes,
 begging to be seen and needed.
  
 The clock ticks – 
 tick tock
 a cuckoo sings, heralding one hospital admission 
 or another,
 and the microphone drops
 an echoing boom,
 there exists permeating silence within this room.
  
 Quietly dragged away,
 by a member of a crisis team,
 to be loaded with medications
 there goes the development of my skills,
 my synapses will be 
 blotted dulled scrambled
 no longer freely firing. 
  
 My talents all but drained from me,
 isn’t it such irony
 that they catch you while you’re endlessly flying?
  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.  

Image by whoalice-moore from Pixabay

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  • Poem: A Caring Listener – 03/01/20

    Poem: A Caring Listener – 03/01/20

     you listened as I rambled on and on
 perched atop that park bench like a little birdy, 
 your birdy,
 informing you of my days and ways.
  
 whiling our time away
 to you I would sing and talk –
 i wasn’t allowed to perch closer to you because:
 rules
 rules 
 ruled our days.
  
 in this environment we were in
 we could speak and laugh and socialise
 but never
 touch
 hug 
 or
 kiss.
  
 these were forbidden,
 but you were my protector, back then
 you committed, you listened. 
  
 you continued to be there,
 even when we drew nearer to wellness,
 a time when ordinarily 
 friendships and hearts would part
 we still retained a little of what we had melded.
  
 and though you’re far off
 living life as you wish it
 fulfilling dreaminess like you know is so deserving
 your little birdy is still here 
 with her tuneful song and smile
 i thank you for listening
 thanks for allowing me to stay awhile. 
 
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved. 

 Image by Kerstin Riemer from Pixabay

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  • secrecy: a complex history – 03/01/20

    secrecy: a complex history – 03/01/20

     
 my life has been more complex than most,
 i need not list the paths and crevasses and cliffs,
 but there were terrifying pictures,
 so too were there visions of exhilaration and madness,
 some of fierce independence,
 and others of sheer bliss.
 
 rarely chosen by others, 
 the paths selected were mainly mine,
 i wound my way around complexities which I made that way,
 rarely searching for an interior perspective,
 instead presenting an outrageously picturesque view:
 assess what’s on offer,
 revelations, revelations
 under a freshly plucked non de plume.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Hello, My Pudding and Pie – 03/01/19

    Poem: Hello, My Pudding and Pie – 03/01/19

     Hello to you, my pudding and pie,
 I will kiss you, dear, never make you cry, 
 for this is a promise I will make, 
 a vow that I will undertake.
  
 I shan’t allow you to feel saddened or blue,
 I will cherish your heart as I hold it,
 a perfect beating view,
 I will nourish our lives together,
 delighted you will become,
 because my darling, pudding and pie,
 nevermore will you cry. 
  
 Those silly little girls in your past, 
 they drew naughts and crosses against your heart,
 they scarred you in special places of your mind,
 don’t kiss girls like these,
 they’ll only make you cry. 
  
 I am here to wipe away your tears,
 we’ll create new memories, 
 of love and joy together,
 even the furious moments of which we’ll clear,

 and my dearest, hello, I greet you,
 I’m finally here to make your eyes fresh,
 hold me near.
 
 Pudding and pie, don’t remember those girls you kissed,
 because I am right here before your eyes. 
  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

 Image by Adina Voicu from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Too Sweet – 02/01/19

    Poem: Too Sweet – 02/01/19

     She is gone, she has left, she’s departed.
 I made it this way;
 she’s better off having undergone this process.
  
 Because she was too bright bubblegummy 
 and saccharine sweetness, far too much of it,
 one taste and her candy flavour would explode
 inside your mouth, snap, crackling, popping. 
  
 It’s easy to hide behind something which obscures,
 but what occurs when you want to stand up,
 and show you’re you,
 and this is yours?
  
 The tartness mixed with the sugar of a lemon drop
 makes me wince, I screw up my face,
 the bitter sweetness of reality 
 slamming into what is truth,
 to reveal, it is never too late.

  © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Little Girl Lost – 01/01/20

    Poem: Little Girl Lost – 01/01/20

     I rush through the forest in my mind,
 searching for the correct path to tread.
 It seems all the red cedar trees 
 are up against me,
 surrounding my path, 
 they growl and grow,
 their presence is immense.
  
 I hurtle from one trunk to the next
 seeking out that which might be 
 tied to it or hung from a thick branch
 but nothing I see fits the view I beg to see,
 I hurtle from tree to tree. 
  
 I am frantic, 
 I have little time left
 to search out what I require
 and what requires my hands.
  
 The feeling of helpless hopelessness 
 washes over me as I begin to 
 lose all sense of control,
 I just want to save them and leave.
  
 It is essential for me to rescue the past,
 to carefully hold it close,
 not allow others a glance,

 but it is difficult to save something 
 from certain evils of the world,
 its judgmental eyesight,
 its mocking, lack of understanding 
 of a once hopeful girl. 
  
 Because that is who I am saving,
 my younger self,
 who made mistakes, 
 so many,
 yet here I am,
 in a world where I can feel proud 
 of what I am doing.
  
 The life which I lead is 
 worth feeling pride for, 
 I have walked many miles,
 and with a sudden sense of relief,
 my eyes fall upon that little girl. 
  
 About twenty, is she,
 am I, rather,
 on the precipice, of where I will fall,

 but now I reach and untie this 
 little naïve, gullible being
 and save her from her imminent future,
 the experiences she no longer 
 has to live and solve.
  
 And rush do we through the cedar trees, 
 time is ticking for our survival, 
 for her to return to my world of safety
 but something is dragging her behind, 
 the air of heavy history,
 and I realise she must live it 
 in order for my current self to breathe.
  
 It is with heavy sadness that I let my 
 tight grasp of her hand go
 and her outstretched arm falls limply,
 into the darkness she melds. 
  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Fireworks and Flames – 31/12/19

    Poem: Fireworks and Flames – 31/12/19

     While our nation burns,
 our fireworks are set to go ahead.
 Through the cameras, through our eyes, 
 we have watched 
 our bushland and towns and livestock ablaze.
  
 While thousands will gather to celebrate
 the burning brightness of spectacular sparkles,
 uncounted others bend their heads in sorrow,
 their lives in turmoil, for some, everything lost.
  
 As the masses will view the pretty, sparkling display
 keep in mind that today and others,
 brave men and women are risking their lives
 to save what is ours,
 
 what is burning to the ground,
 while you delight in viewing an uplifting display 
 remember to silently hold tribute to those 
 who are without on this New Year's Day. 
 
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Bumbling Bumblebee – 31/12/19

    Poem: Bumbling Bumblebee – 31/12/19

     
 I am a bumbling bumblebee,
 I flit from flower to flower, 
 bough to bough,
 tree to tree. 
  
 I am in awe of what 
 Nature has to deliver,
 I sip, 
 I suckle,
 I collect: – 
 I leave.
  
 Bumbling from each flower to the next,
 I make my way around as though 
 I’m in my own duplex,
 where in the darkness of night, 
 I will not stumble,
 I know all the corners and turns, 
 the pieces of the puzzle.
  
 But then I reach a foreign plant,
 one which I have no awareness of,
 confusedly I ram into the branches,
 buzz, buzz, buzz, 
 grr, grr, buzz!
  
 The pollen on my back legs
 starts to disengage from my twig-like limbs,
 and there is nothing I can do because
 I must be under attack: 
 will my worker bees help me please?
  
 Falling, falling, 
 I am so bumbling,
 silly little buzzing me, 
 I should have investigated the scene before stalling.
  
 At the appearance of a swarm of wasps,
 I am required to quickly leave.
 
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Anything But Ordinary – 30/12/19

    Poem: Anything But Ordinary – 30/12/19

     Allow me to throw all this 
 seriousness out the window,
 watch it rise, then drop, go, 
 weighted, begone!
 It’s as though an exhilarating breath 
 has been taken inside of you
 Inhale, exhale, you crave another round.
  
 Where life could be so simple, 
 so pure, so you,
 one of perfection, a life of independence,
 where in this life, of your reality,
 everything is light, feathery, and airy. 
  
 Your words move softly from your lips,
 your fingertips dance over naked skin,
 and touching your arm makes the 
 hairs on your neck raise,
 you don’t need another here, 
 to feel grateful and amazed.
  
 Because you are perfection, dear, 
 even with your self-labelled flaws,
 they’re your signs that you are unique,
 be careful with your heart,

 do not denigrate yourself,
 talk down internally 
 because you, sweetheart, 
 are anything but ordinary.
 
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved, 2019.  

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

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