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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Tag: poetry
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Micropoetry: Incandescent – Lines of 7 – 23/08/21
Previous Post: Bright – 21/08/21
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Poem: Bright – 21/08/21
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.
Image sourcePrevious Post: Adore – 20/08/21
Previous Post: Viewing Me – 19/08/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: Welcoming Humanity – 17/08/21
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.
Image sourcePrevious Post: Poetry Collaboration by Amber and Lauren M. Hancock – Chrysalis of Hope – 16/08/21
Previous Post: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poetry Collaboration by Amber and Lauren M. Hancock – Chrysalis of Hope – 16/08/21
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 pillowsembodies the archaic knowledge
of the ancients whose remedies
and generational lineage layspatiently 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)Previous Post: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: ‘Tween Hearts – 15/08/21
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.
Image sourcePrevious Post: Her Sorcery – 13/08/21
Previous Post: ‘The Hot Room’ – 13/08/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: Her Sorcery – 13/08/21
Haunted are her eyes
above a winsome smile,
wistful character is she,
hoping for more
in a while.
Fallen by the wayside,
all her trickery,
her witchery,
her cosmetics,
her haberdashery.
By goodness what is told
beneath those furrowed brows?
Heavy times envisaged,
poignant moments told,
she loves to flicker
her eyes from the
land to the sea,
a calming peacefulness
takes over she.
Without her layers,
which peeled away
one by one,
she’s naked as the babe
she entered the world as,
all magic spells come undone,
without the falsity
of rare moments of rage,
she no longer finds herself
or others
disharmoniously caged.
For their prison was this –
requirements to abide by society,
she just wants to flow now,
rippling waves,
breathe, gasp freely,
ride the swells of less commotion,
battle away prior despair,
no longer a ‘witch’ but a
fair haired innocent maiden…
What was wrong with her sorcery?
She’d not ever know,
only condemned for being
different,
not lining up in
conforming rows,
her magic is what
she held pride in,
what made her so proud,
shriek and cackle
she wishes now,
to elaborate aloud.
They have changed her,
made her ‘pure’,
sootiness cast away,
undo, undo,
bring back the smudges,
the unsightly smears,
her darkness is, was, forthcoming,
can you feel it, dears?
There’s so much she has to say,
watch as the pretences fall away.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Tania Medina on UnsplashPrevious Post: ‘The Hot Room’ – 13/08/21
Previous Post: ‘Interior’ – 11/08/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: The Hot Room – 13/08/21
Orchids wilt in the hot room.
It is summer here, outside, a belligerent winter
with a dying, poorly Moon.
They have thrown themselves from their stakes.
Stakes which were there to provide safety,
protection,
backboned projections.
The orchids, they are careless, for they have
left their safe havens,
their ties have been cut,
severed from the heaven they once
grew towards,
now wilted, lethargic.
What a sorry sight for eyes,
used to falling upon beauty,
now dejection and misery,
once-taut, now lacklustre under the
oppressive heat’s fury,
the split system churns out
Celsius, five and twenty,
degrees of measure too hot
for the orchids,
whom cannot stop wilting.
Their heads, they can barely lift,
too much of a trouble it is to subsist,
rejection of the support
because I cannot, will not,
do not want to entertain that foggy breath
of mist,
morning time offers some solace
when the fiery heater does its trick.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by cottonbro from PexelsPrevious Post: Interior – 11/08/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: Interior – 11/08/21
The fullness in my belly
tells me how blessed
I am to smile,
to grin until cheeks ache,
what madness,
corners of lips will remain
widow-peaked,
I’m grateful for the satisfaction
which comes from not being
lonely and hollow,
many yesterdays,
potential tomorrows
promised to be laden with
such sorrow.
But I have changed mindsets,
it is nothing short of amazing,
withholding health from myself, I had,
now, pleasantries, luxuriating,
I would not allow myself to
experience any possible bliss,
deprivation, for firm reasons,
and now I’ve relaxed,
relinquishing control,
what personal power this is.
It should matter not,
should not be all about,
what one looks like
to the world,
how one presents is only
one sheen, lustre,
shimmer of a pearl,
what we are made up of,
the interior,
our strength,
our power,
our desires,
truth of the matter,
these are what really matter.
Disgruntled nature within,
cataclysmic, self-loathing,
hatred growing,
wanting, desiring, that physical
changing,
but it is with true consciousness
that we should be engaging,
not just with the world
but ourselves,
power-pressing up against
closing-in walls,
free yourself,
it’s truly triumphant
to be strong in this world.
No longer aiming for tiny,
but aiming for happy and healthy,
already halfway there,
won’t I growl a prized cacophony?
I can be anything I want to be,
and I choose to be me,
the only authentic form,
shape, person
in this world
that I can truly be.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Johen Redman on UnsplashPrevious Post: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21
Previous Post: Poem: Refractions – 09/08/21Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21
Living for the momentum and
living for the dream,
thoughts tossed,
bruised and broken,
living despite ill feeling.
The circumstances are these:
I do not taunt, I do not tease,
I live above and beyond,
how I experience the world,
predication, I know it, for these.
Warble yet, my dear swan,
gangly neck though thee has,
I do not know, do not know,
whether the games played,
stone’s thrown,
will seriously cause another to
come undone,
thoughts expelled,
contemplative or mad.
The truth, the fact of the matter is,
I’m rather like my own swan of truth,
interweaving elegance and wings which flap
with ease,
bright glide and there’s no other
than that another,
who knows of my true crazy patterns
they’re lived, so breathed,
within, deep personal power.
For it is with fluidity, with comfortability,
that I have been allowed to define,
contemplation, rumination, no stagnation,
progress within this virulent nation,
why, is this not a sight for sorry eyes?
Treasuring this life as mine,
gracious though precious be,
I am grateful for my life situation,
so much is calling unto me.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image sourcePrevious Post: Refractions – 09/08/21
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home
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Poem: Refractions – 09/08/21
The growling primal fear
which rears its head
dances its eyes over our
circumstance,
and in a plethora of
understanding
it wisely retreats into
the distance,
pillars surround us
as petals, thrown,
fall from invisible hands.
The area we find ourselves in
beckons to outsiders
near and far,
cajoling them,
calling them in,
to come join
the party,
if one could call
it this,
we are prisms within
shafts of light,
sensing deep within.
And so, we carry on,
dispel any negativity,
growth is a factor,
plurals multiply,
lace-widths of sin
and unroll do these errors from past, future and
unknowns,
our history determines
how much we want
others to know.
So, wary are we,
these refractions dance so thin,
like slicing daggers into
unwanted entities,
our lovers hear and own
everything that shouldn’t
be seen,
as though thickets,
deep brush,
slash, gash, branches
not so tough,
do and say are different things,
but results matter most,
is what some might say.
Thinning out,
excavating memories of time,
white-hot circumstance,
disallowing swallows flighty times,
drift away from that sea
that calls and calls,
deep swells for you,
and for me – well,
I’m tackle what I am given,
arrivederchi.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Emma on UnsplashPrevious Post: Shade – 07/08/21
Previous Post: Rose – 07/08/21
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