I shall sojourn to follow my bliss, chase those dreams, negativity’s finally amiss,
feel the breadth of a blossoming soul, richer than an expansive rose, something which I’ve learned, which I’ve come to know is that Life’s a great adventure if you treat it with joy, with graciousness, with gratitude, it is so welcoming, clutch it with style.
I’ll smile, spread my wings, take flight, this path ahead is mine, I’ll call and call for nothing, for no one, for I alone am growing whole.
Wouldn’t you be pleased to know that the leaky gaps are plugged, closed tightly, sealed shut, and now, I can fill with abundance, filling, filling, overflow.
Stay with me, this vision of a feeling, sheer emotion rising from within me, encompassing the mess that lay within during times of poor judgement, rash decisions and vile reasonings.
Now Past’s errors are captured as though in a flighty balloon, or heaved, sunk stone to disguise the hefty nature of a life once deemed unworthy of being known, one in which I formerly believed I was adamantly, freely living.
Fall into a deceptive pool, just beneath the surface, body of water, a sheen of gullibility, naivety, surface emotions, poor behaviour — publicly speaking.
The idea of remaining does not scare me, in fact, regularity fills me with radiant resonance, but is there a tired, hidden belligerence, attracting some beings’ yawning?
Contentious may be my emotions to share, is there need to prepare for reactivity, surely this is all part of the process? I nod to myself knowingly. I dared; I shared. But will candour equate to care?
I am excited to announce the release of my first chapbook today, ‘Keepsakes of Hope and Despair’, published by Ginninderra Press, in the Picaro Poets series. Many thanks to series editor, Brenda Eldridge, and publisher Stephen Matthews OAM for giving me this wonderful opportunity to have my work made available in print. I am very grateful to have had my work accepted by Ginninderra Press.
This is my second publication. My first book ‘Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories’ was self-published in 2019.
I wrote my chapbook ‘Keepsakes of Hope and Despair’ during a lengthly COVID-lockdown last year, and it was a cathartic experience for me to deal with some often painful, but also some hopeful memories and experiences of my past while in this lockdown.
It was a means of expelling and coming to terms with some things that had been lingering in the back of my mind for some years.
‘Keepsakes of Hope and Despair’ is available for purchase at Ginninderra Press to Australian residents only. International copies can be purchased through me personally.
I lay myself away to sleep, rug myself up, curled, not a single peep, and rock, rock as though I’m in need of solace myself for it’s not often in my world I feel the need to cry out for help.
Yet tonight seems empty, lonesome though I am, I cannot drag myself to the phone, or to the other room, to open arms, welcoming heart and hands, no, quiet I am, here now without need to rest, for sleep, pining is my pulse’s melody for something, or someone less bitter, but sweet.
How circumstance has allowed me to feel lost without shared voices, the constant need for chatter, for smiles, boisterous callings, giggles, confident loose laughter, bouts of sarcasm and bite, but only in good humour, voices peal into the night.
And when the connection is broken, the silence, emptiness creeps into place, I’m not used to talking with a best friend without their face in my visual space,
but the quietness now it unnerves me, I’m unused to my own company, suck it up, I tell myself, no need for gloom and misery.
Solitude is not the best right now for me, I grab my knees close, rock furiously, mindlessly, keeping myself occupied, softly, knowingly, burdened by the deafening silence, all with saddening ease, loneliness flows from me.
I have learned the language of love not by loving but by being loved,
by being understood, known as heard, my inner self has expanded into a flourishing wondrous bird.
First the phoenix, decimate my life, self-destruction, soot, ash, burn, stir, potential is rife,
so then I become a crane of hope, a sign of quietness, of wisdom, breadth, width, how I’ve learned to cope.
I reach forth, a feather, hold it out to be grasped, the whiteness, sheer purity of vision, unspotted, not besmirched, unmarked,
stridently, my wings spread, here I am now an eagle with perceptive eyes, I am scanning the world below me, for I, I have risen, and further will I rise.
I soar and explore the dawn, the dusk, daily vision, awry is not my intent, no, not me, not I,
I understand, wanting more, not less, won’t I call for more, snatch more from Life?
Unknowing of full potential, but by goodness I’ll allow myself to explore, because I need it, I want it, to be heard,
let me project my shaky balance, I am, on this point, going to be, one day, be so confidently self-assured.
Vivid waves heave then capitulate, hooves upon sand, gallant galloping, sun-drenched love; subtle stuttering, nervous selection, calm, controlling.
Rise forth, my tidal queen! Wreak havoc upon all that you might see, open your waters, a space to reside and breathe, positive intent; entangled seaweed.
Salted air attends to loose hair, beachy waves tossed, combed, flicked, without concern, fingers drag through piecey sections without a single care,
and internally the thunderous towering beauties envelope a stray swimmer, sadly, his time, can’t you see?
Wondering, wandering, bang, crash, decimated, the still–mood in my mind, I am plagued by naught, freed by the fragranced sea air.
This is the air that I subsist on, this is the air that I breathe, envelope, my waves, this tidal queen, lest I settle beneath, to my home underneath the sea.
Talented, uplifting and inspiring poet, Grace from Grace of the Sun recently nominated me for this blogger’s award! Thank you very much for thinking of me, Grace, I’m incredibly humbled by your nomination. I love her poetry for it is thought-provoking, inspiring, full of positivity, and always tells a captivating story. Please check out her blog and enjoy her creations for yourself!
Rules:-
Use the official logo/graphic of the award and display it on your blog.
Tell me a something about this world that you admire.
What is your favourite form of creativity?
Nominate 7 lovely people and notify them by commenting on their posts; spread some love!
Ask your nominees 4 questions.
Share something you created. (can be anything!)
Q. Tell me something about this world that you admire.
I admire the resilience of the human spirit, the rebounding nature and our ability to band together and heal during the worst of times. In particular, I refer to my parents and our family during a particularly tough period in our lives last year and how we coped with it. We went through a lot together and grew into a stronger family unit due to our experiences. We learned to love and care for one another even more than we had previously. From pain grew strength and personal strength, and close-knit ties drawn together even firmer.
Q. What is your favourite form of creativity?
Poetry, poetry, poetry! And playing the violin. I also enjoy creating art when I am in the particular headspace to be artistic with bright colours.
Grace’s Questions!
If you had to move to another place, where would you go?
I wouldn’t move anywhere else at this stage. I love where I am, and I am a creature of habit. However, if I were to select somewhere to temporarily relocate, perhaps somewhere near the beach during autumn or spring, so I could enjoy the fresh breeze without the overt heat.
If you met your future self, what would you ask?
“Are you happy with how you lived your life? What are your highlights, and what would you have changed?”
What is the best advice you have received?
Be yourself and don’t be afraid to be assertive in this life.
Who has had the biggest influence in your life?
My mother and father. Mum and I are very close, she supports my creative endeavours, listens to my poetry often, and provides the support for me to bounce my ideas off when I need an extra opinion. Similarly too, the quiet strength of my father provides me stability and grounding, and a love spoken not only necessarily in words but through his presence and thoughtful actions.
I carefully consider the moments that carry themselves before me, the cantankerous callers embarking upon intrusion at my door, they knock and knock at my bruised heart, casually then insistent their volume grows.
Obnoxious be these memories, boring into my spirit and my soul, cataclysmic their cries become, courageous I must be!
I fling open the windows, the doors of my being, allow them providence, permit them entry into the safe-houses of my internal gaping wounds, allow them to nestle, making a home of them soon.
My self-awareness knows their presence is at a detriment to me, but who else will house them, these, my memories? They are my responsibility.
And carefully, my wounds heal all around them, the callers, they shudder and groan, and now assimilated once more within my flesh, they are saved, their salvation was my process.
Here they can retire quietly, be laid to rest, no more pain, no anguish, no suffering, silence, oh, precious silence, it is miraculous, it is all-knowing.
The courage to stay true while remaining stoic and brave is a path that I’ve asked myself to complete to the full.
But this task is never complete, for like a blossoming heart, the mission is replete not with shattered memories nor broken dreams, but growing, heaving breaths, thrown casual glances as though at a secret love so sweet.
Picturesque scenes in the cavities of the mind, spilling forth, over barriers meant to be leapt o’er, abolished, nevermore to be seen, expand upon this thought, much more to find.
Experiences flood like warmth to the soul, call to us, to them, shall we accumulatively experience them all?
The genuine moments cast into truth, fragranced with calm, not Judgement, a glimmer of possibility, curiosity escapes and calls, gentle circumstance, a feeling of natural enthral.
Green shoots press their way through compact heavy weight of rain-drenched soil, I watch them rise, peek through the surface, surprise! their ends seem to call,
reach toward that sun drenching them, a morning of rich rays warming them, the heat permeates my skin, and I wonder,
am I like these shoots, growing with others, determination, precious company, shared devotion to growth, our fresh lives visions renewed?
The blades of grass, I glance upon them with a certainty now, their simplicity of presence seems a sign, a reminder from the Universe to reach forth, be brave, shoot upwards, onwards with goals, whatever I treasure as my own.
I dance my fingertips across the very tippy-tips, the tactile nature of assumed hope and enrichment, speaks of passion, courage, bravery, innate power, against my softened skin.
For we are all in stages of growth, some rise quickly, others a little slower, but truth be told we will all reach our own fate, onwards, skyward-bound, forever Sun-reaching, life is beautiful, fruitfully revealing, utterly amazing, potent, unravelling, each day’s a precious date.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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