Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    daggers in her eyes
    she is potent with her stare
    take a needle and thread and prick that evil eye
    with precise care
    the deepest blue you did ever see
    boring into her into me
    flight takin now
    irreverently
    disrespectful they’ve brought her, me,
    down to our knees

    bruises form
    it’s a part of our love
    delicate delicate pink gangly bird
    won’t you realise
    they don’t want you to go
    because it’s better off remaining
    in the syncing of our clarified minds
    the twins the twins
    what’s left of them
    decimated before they were even alive

    but this is the way it should be
    this is the way the
    countering of my feels
    I don’t have the right to procreate
    said she
    I don’t have the right to bring another
    into the world
    not with our lingering malignancy
    mental health disease

    I live in this haze of what’s right and
    what is wrong
    loaded bullet, baby,
    do not ever face that gun
    neither shine it on a spotlight
    you are not a martyr from kingdom come
    stop crying, what’s in your mouth,
    disgusting,
    let us come undone.
    (25/02/22).
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay

  • poem: to bloom – 24/02/22

    poem: to bloom – 24/02/22

    Image from Pixabay

    To bloom within means not unravelling oneself, not pulling apart the petals, but securing them to one’s own mooring, so she can be seen for who she truly is, and was and still is. Underneath all, she is full of goodness, despite the anger, the sadness, she has her own manner of charms. She has much love and charisma, but flowing over before the negative ascension and dramatic type of karma.

    Please do not misconstrue the shades which line her face, the complexion yellowing, a life and lives once gone, seemingly gone to waste, no, focus instead upon the glory within her saddened eyes, the glimmer of blue hope and the way her orbs take in the electric scope as she struggles with mental health and achieving a disguise. There were so many underhanded comments among her visit an other world, when wishing for a life with more ease.

    Reading and assessing her times, the pages lie quietly there with scribblings, handwritten notes, colour-coded, unknown is the manner in which she knows how to speak. Chaos be the matter, and chaos was at large. Largely within her mind, but certainly around her. around

    But she will be permitted to Heaven’s door one day, and asked not to leave but to continue to fight all affray, so yes, you are correct, she has not bloomed yet again again today, yesterday, nor directly this and another forthcoming day, but by goodness is she learning to co-exist and reconnect, and given the complex circumstances of her illness, that’s a mighty lot to achieve and say, she just sometimes needs to Vent.

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

  • poem: lovers – 22/02/22

    poem: lovers – 22/02/22


    pathways and journeyman 
    women and lovers come along, stay by their sides
    they are stoic, they are calmers, 
    they wear quiet forms of armour, 
    protected by the ones they love, 
    their swords, their shields are made more potent, 
    because fighting evil and chasms and voids can be dark work
    all done in a night and days,
    without a form of talk. 

    Focus not upon the irreverent, 
    the naysayers, the belligerents, 
    and instead become entranced with beauty, 
    melody and love, 
    there is power within, if you see the beauty of a dove
    released from closed hands, with the most delicate of ease, 
    lovingly, lovingly, lives attended, 
    we, the couple will dream, 
    and now with our army of light and love, 
    we will make new pathways, 
    shining a light upon the cause. 

    there is nothing, Nothing, that can’t be stated for the truth, 
    I am there for this moment, I am here for the proof, 
    and I will become enchanted with the whistles, 
    the chirps among the trees. 
    O’ hark, a galah, oh hark, a kookaburra, 
    and hark, a morning magpie, and her lover, 
    and baby together. 

    The bent head of a dying rose that’s really just sleeping, 
    prune her not, 
    her scent so forbidden, only those worthy will sense her
    but never she censor her true remaining thoughts. 
    She has already done so by ivy wrapped around her base, 
    the shrapnel hidden tightly around her waist, 
    the armour tickling her jaw-defined face. 
    And a prince will lean in and breathe in the scent of her, 
    never forgotten, never to forget, that moment when these two
    had met. 

    © Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.  
    Image from Pixabay
  • prosody: sunshine – 22/02/22

    prosody: sunshine – 22/02/22

    During these times we need sunshine, love, affirmations and more, for the sun to shine through the dreary clouds. To bring forth the brightness within thee, to allow the circumstances to slowly ease. There is in a knowing in what comes forth, what will come next, dare I breathe, exhale, set a task? There is something glorious in again coming to know myself, because, when we take on our souls’ travesties and refill it with love, we can rejuvenate the world. Matter not the errors of the past, or the irreverent goals which we surely achieved at a half mast. Matter not do these conformities, these desires, the way I unwound myself with ease. Delicately, I broke myself over and over again, as a means, as means, to achieve my end. And then together I tried to make myself be. I grabbed the pieces, the shards of me. The broken mirror, the tainted glass. The errors of this world are half-cast shades of pink and blue, perhaps purple and green, or orange and white, tiger tales to be seen, sheer delight. And what say you to remain on guard, forever analysing this precious, beautiful world? I know not of these things, not anymore, for I am beginning to relax, become less anxiety driven, and becoming myself at long last Trust, it’s potent potion, is beginning as a spell to be cast. 
© Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
  • Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Image from Pixabay

    There was serendipity one night,

    Fate was there to be seen.

    Through an hourglass or an oculus

    Spirits there to dream.

    But these were not pleasant,

    They stole away my breath,

    Gasp, hope,

    The murder they intended,

    Fearful,

    Nasty little boys,

    Irreverent scope.

    Will never happen,

    They will not achieve this intention,

    However ill meant.

    The pathways they are eradicating,

    Newest tunnelling,

    Funnelling,

    Like the spider that she was,

    No longer is,

    She loves in singular, not deuce,

    Never three,

    And for the whirling in her mind,

    Taps of coffee cups,

    One two and three,

    Been talking and talking

    All morning for hours,

    Please, won’t you let it be??

    (C) 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • new life

    what i need to do

    what im trying to do

    is clear the toxicity from my words and my mind

    its a journeying

    its a process

    humbling it is in style

    to wake up and realise how irreverent I’ve been

    so utterly disrespectful to the ones i love and need

    i am ruining them i have ruined them

    their hearts and minds within a dream

    by aching words i am now suffering

    feeling the pain at knowing what i said how i spoke

    was far less than comfortable or tame

    i can only bleed so much energy for i am splattering with ease

    the ink blots the chimney tops

    roar to life as burn pillage the hunted one

    but i am here i am resting relaxing my ailing mind

    and somehow ill know ILL KNOW that i will make it through again

    turning over those hinting leaves
    and reassuming my good goals

    (c) Copyright 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: Placement – 10/02/20

    Can Redeemable I be, thy irreverent clause?
    A chink in the armour, karmic retribution calls?
    Truth tells, forever yours?
    I’ll be loyal, less judgemental and kind,
    But boy how I will need to bite my tongue at perceived thieves who wish to reach and ride alongside.

    I will smile and be lovely, teach the students about my condition daily,
    But did I feel comfortable enough to allow them to see?
    No, this bristling anger, this aggravation felt within me.

    Within this soul is the devils clasp, gripping me surely tightly forever it seems he will outlast
    I do not know how to cause the grievances and illegitimate littering around a litter of short tongued beings biting at the bit for a ride of sorts, a trot, a canter, should we gallop, dare I beg to ask?

    Because what calms me is him, the big M, the man himself, from a far off land he hails,
    Mozart cures, he develops, him to me he brightens with joy and overwhelms.

    I love this source, the Source, of very life itself m, magnificent it would be to touch this master’s pages, originals, my heart, I would gasp.

    So how now is my mental health, you might ask? The term there dancing on everybody’s hearts.
    Well well well, I am getting there, I am improving, I am becoming better, a gentle rewording, a subtler knowing. Pages of cadenzas on the paper singing songs Melodies for one another
    Mozart, won’t he pen another melody,
    His giggling curio so lovely to see feel, whilst he be?

    Changing my keys,
    Unlocked by nobody but those who can truly see
    My irreverences were part and are in part of my melodic manic suffering,
    Won’t you dance with me?
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Image from Google

  • Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    It feels so natural to speak the truth

    Embedded with Constance to see me through

    Upon the tips of my tongue

    A hullabaloo

    And an irrevocable meaning, melding

    Of heartfelt growling too.

    They’re, we’re indestructible, I know,

    View the airiness within me as my two delicates rose

    I need not have not

    Want for material things because the truth is

    My spirit is soaring.

    No matter what you say or do

    You cannot take me from the stars

    From the skies

    The sighs and I quickly taste that bitter pill

    Of poison

    For some refuse me heavens door

    No matter how hard I rap or knock

    I cannot get in …

    Frantic cries for Doc!

    The paid spread the mayhem

    LOST

    I calm myself

    It’s only motes

    Or dust

    My being is travelling

    Astral through the sky

    Whisper I sleep prettily and dream of

    Wonderful butterflies

    Shush as they encompass me

    Their light winged air begging me to stare at

    Their wondrous dramatic colours of sweet rich hues

    Nothing like where upon the earth,

    We are hunted for training

    For sailing for achievements

    For ENTERTAINMENT and more

    I am no more a sheep for fleece as steak is to hunger

    I refuse to be your sacrifice any longer r

    Before those guilty of harbouring powers from me for so many years

    Stuff you and your sister and your job cause your beard, because hey,

    I kinda like your beard. 🙂

    Returning in all seriousness, don’t cease my ability to soar, I don’t NEED you now, all I needs myself is my mind, my wits and the ability to laugh at funny situations.

    Because laughter shared is happiness gained, my love. Did you not know that?

    I like you more or less. 🙂

    (C) copyright 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: dreamy – 07/02/14

    Poem: dreamy – 07/02/14

    Work on myself

    I’ll show you how I work

    When I clean sweep wash the karma from me until its distilled and green

    I’ll talk it walks!

    Watch me as I work to cement myself as mint grey

    And the colours of the rainbow

    Visitation? Come what may.

    I’ll show you how I work,

    When my soul is spotless clean

    Everything in taciturn and emblematic as I’m seen

    Watch the bridges burning red as I terrorise the torrents

    vaporise the nonsense

    That’s ingrained within my addled mind

    Watch me as I work it work it

    Move it drop it fix it stick it

    Moving around as though I’m in it

    Watch me bloom from within my turret

    The pink and black and stars of the sky with bending upon knees to see me as I cry

    The wanton need to always be seen has crystallised

    I’m perfectly clean, can’t you see?

    And you, and you?

    How about me?

    I will sleep soundly as I dream.

    The first dream of this century

    Where I didn’t want or need for anything other than being

    Happy.

    Now is this ending so ultimately dreary?

    Anything but, I believe it’s rather dreamy.

    (C) copyright 2022 Lauren m. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Birdie – 07/02/22

    Birdie – 07/02/22

    Elaborate portions of minuets minuets

    Dancing in the halls of suns where we met

    I don’t know about you but I’m the go-between

    Apparently I sing minstrel songs to a king.

    Never cage a bird nor keep it tame

    The dangers and perils of doing so,

    Why,

    J’taime j’taime?

    I neither love that king nor adore his queen

    But assuming late, abhor?

    No, the bird will just escape from her door.

    There is nothing tragic about this tale,

    A Bird is meant to be captured,

    Don’t we know this too well?

    Spoken words by an arrogant queen

    An insufficient man of means

    And damsels in distresses —

    Why, they’re barely now ever heard of or seen.

    Escape seems futile, for beneath it all,

    The treason and travesty of the effect was so strong.

    But you cannot blame her you cannot cage this bird

    For she is coming right now

    Rest as she rests and rests assured.

    Clause.

    (C) 2022 copyright Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.