Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • Poem: i will wait – 19/12/21

    Poem: i will wait – 19/12/21

    I wait for that moment when hearts will rise and beauty
    will glisten in both sets of eyes
    watching from afar away from my form
    I feel subtleties stiffen news break soft damn

    hands held in manner of peaked prism
    saying darling what you are thinking
    and I smile with little spurts of healing
    like a volcano rushes with ominous pace
    it travels there
    weaving and styling in its sleek attitude

    he shows that there is not barrenness there
    his intent I can always taste
    as though thick molasses
    syrupy tempting goodness

    knowing to have it is not worth it
    but the memory of the taste, well,
    I cannot dress myself the feeling
    the dirtiness of the heady experience,

    living with his intentions upon my back
    I cannot help but know there’ll be many
    more of them and I cannot help
    cannot detail the anger which comes
    from being managed

    so
    this magma bearer
    can move on
    unlock that pick
    that love-locket along the creek’s bridge
    we tried friendship before
    really did
    like vapour evaporates so easily
    there dissipated our love .    
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Ryan Moreno on Unsplash

    previous Post: micropoem: authentic magic – 18/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘i will wait’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • micropoem: authentic magic – 18/12/21

    micropoem: authentic magic – 18/12/21

  • Poem: the swaying violinist – 17/12/21

    Poem: the swaying violinist – 17/12/21


    as I sit by the fireplace I wonder,
    what is the occasion we are all searching for?
    the virtuosic line of violin sweeping the pavement and
    rising with dear dear sentiment
    vibrato so wide and with dissent with disapproval
    the other turns down his smile and walks away
    he does not like this piece
    this celebration of mine
    a joyous showiness filled with mirth and grins and sways and swings
    trip-lett-ing –
    flautando then glissing
     
    falling falling for him as he walks from my view
    this mistake this mistake I’m putting myself through
    but it’s fine, it’s permissible, to fall for the wrong man
    for at times we can wine and dine ourselves with our
    superficial charms and demands

    up in arms are we when he and I waltz together
    myself him and that violin we are tiptoeing
    we are prance-footing
    to the beat to the beat which is spread with the most ravenous of ease,
    to please the soloist we must make amends
    and allow for its treatment to be stretched
    it’s a show, you see,
    and he must turn and face me.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Philip Myrtorp on Unsplash

    Previous Post: by the gods I have been blessed – 14/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘the swaying violinist’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • Poem: by the gods I have been blessed – 15/12/21

    Poem: by the gods I have been blessed – 15/12/21

    the gods have blessed me here today
    and I could not be any more grateful
    I present myself open arms tongue-tied
    fumbling for the right words to speak
    so thankful that I have been given this redemption
    this ability for reprieve
    for soul reflection
    for ascension

    I feel my spirit begin to detach and surround itself
    around my very corporeal being
    enlightening my mind, freeing me from suffering
    there’s nothing to gain from retrieval of memories
    from ill historical and former focusing
    their blatant latent effect upon my cerebral and synapses
    firing in a manner so repetitively tiring
    my emotions couldn’t bear the calling,
    the calling oh, how I begged for their stalling

    and now, momentous is this portion of the night
    my essence is detached yet still intact
    surrounding my body like a breath like its very own fog
    an aura of mist and coolness is this what ethereal spirit be?

    I look to the skies and there is nothing nothing but me to see
    I surround this room I breathe myself in
    peculiar this moment be
    but I give in to the strangeness I allow it to take me in
    and suddenly I become at one with this misty translucent sea
    the gods have blessed me

    I’m freeing myself from the defunct thoughts
    the degenerative memories which assisted me naught
    I have and will continue to move forward
    I surround myself, how obscure, how strange,
    but in this instance, it feels like odd perfection,
    to know that at least, my corporeal being by this spirit
    is being saved.

    I can protect myself in a manner so cloaked and sheathed
    not even the most perceptive will view my soul
    for this spirit, this liveliness, my hope,
    has continued to grow and grow
    with time, with accentuation, with acceptance that
    this life is something to embrace, not complain or be
    pessimistic about,

    I spent so many years in that negative degenerative haze,
    ungrateful state and years of sickeningly unwell mental health –
    I almost could not be saved
    but
    I complain not for I have lived those years
    gained life experience
    learned from doing not viewing
    so many years spent angered and stewing
    vile retention of obsession and contention though now
    I have become enlightened
    in the sense that yes,
    by the gods I have been touched to view my truths
    I have been blessed.

    taught with foresight and acceptance that Life is worth living
    Life is worth receiving
    Life is worth investing in and worth the chances of giving and giving
    and improving and being.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (14/12/21)

    Photo by Nadiia Ploshchenko on Unsplash

    Previous Post: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘by the gods I have been blessed’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • Poem: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    Poem: wreathed, perpetually – 14/12/21

    wreath me with the sadness that you could
    no longer carry
    battle heavy battle weary,
    I will shoulder the metaphoric that ate at your spirit
    entranced with the brightness of the airy and sycophantic
    I smile, for I will carry on this legacy in a different way
    I will revitalise the mourning into celebrations set
    for a glorious day
    I will understand that the need to be free and wild
    reside on the very same occasion,
    instant are potent notions, understandings
    but, as confusions that will weigh down your heart
    as innocent mirth fills my soul
    and I glance down
    at the soil where I buried those sunflower seeds
    with sunshine water and smiles
    I gave them my emotions I gave them my all and now the wreath I disrobe
    take away that layer that protected me
    brown-green pine needles, Christmassy armour
    and I remember with sadness how I felt
    recalling that other
    that moment when I carried heartache almost eternally
    and felt that suffering (suffering) as I stiffened with vile intent
    of precarious ascent
    my chest rises my chest heaves
    my mind begs for insistence
    to leave leave leave this scene
    I don’t need to view your final resting place
    I don’t need to understand why you fled my life
    my state
    and though you still exist, and elsewhere live
    it’s as though you are dead to me
    I carry your wreath
    I yield all your suffering
    I beg for you to remember
    always remember me
    that love you perpetually felt from
    innocent naive me.  
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (13/12/21) 
    Photo by Teodora Popa Photographer on Unsplash

    Previous Post: reflection – 13/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Insta: @laurenm.hancock

    This post ‘Wreathed Perpetually’ first appeared on Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

  • Poem: reflection – 13/12/21

    Poem: reflection – 13/12/21

    haven’t always been the best person
    haven’t perpetually been the kindest human
    in times of pain I lash out and let them have it
    my heart, wounded, dripping by the bloodied scourge
    and the very dagger sliced into my fragile ego
    drips drip drippps with overt sentiment and angry vehemence
    how dare I be slighted my mind will scream
    how dare I be wronged my pride shall call
    but the truth is, there are two sides to every story,
    and I can’t always be stuck playing, rewinding Side B
    hours and hours on repeat,
    lyrically paining.

    Side A has some truth to it, and best acknowledge,
    acknowledge the words permeating, winding
    so freely, because,
    there’s no point in dwelling on a broken empty situation
    which has no love for progress, for gratitude, for positivity
    nor feeling blessed.
     
    although what is love when pieces are sharper than
    fierce puppy needle teeth
    piercing my very being and allowing me to see, to see,
    that my latent anger, my fiercely wrought armour,
    my defences guarding were no longer needed,
    BUT, why look to the past, it’s something to learn from, yes,
    but I do not need to allow it to grace my world again.
    they are gone, never again to be seen, not even if the mouths
    of the world yawned open to engulf me,
    or perhaps, in their own twisted way,
    reward me.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (12/12/21)

    Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

    Previous Post: disarmed – 12/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock




  • Poem: disarmed – 12/12/21

    Poem: disarmed – 12/12/21

    change is as impermanent as the irreverent footsteps
    brushing against the floorboards  
    then carpeted pavement
    travelling toward the bedroom door for a glimmer
    of your strength as your heart it beats quietly in slumber
    days well spent days well spent
    I sigh to myself for I see the journey within your nightly trials
    in your eyes sparkles glimmer
    alterations to be observed and saved
    soul shimmers

    you altered your life path
    you designed a new trial to be outlasted and
    mistakes made wittingly
    aside and cast
    you grew in redemption
    a beautiful soul reflection
    sewn regeneration
    flowering ascension
    imperfect connections
    yet perfect corrections
    as bold and wondrous as the claret flowing through
    your bursting spirit
    your special soul
    need I, dare I mention?
    the colours of your fall,
    the shade of your winter soul,
    the spring in your flowering steps,
    the beautiful summer sunset,
    you are evolving as you become the centre,
    the One,
    I’m torn – do I let you sleep
    or wake you, embrace you,
    snuffling warmth?

    I just want to encourage you
    congratulate you
    for the change that’s become of you
    your flight path
    nothing to fear
    no harm,
    you’ve made it through the danger zone
    and blissfully
    grinningly
    I see you hovering and soaring above
    that former storm.
    well done, my lovely,
    well done.
    my heart you have eternally disarmed.  
    (09/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Previous Post: personal astronomy – 12/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock

  • Poem: personal astronomy – 12/12/21

    Poem: personal astronomy – 12/12/21

    as I speak, I wonder,
    what is there to gather from this world we inhabit?
    what is there to take away from it?
    to cherish, to treasure from it?
    so much to glean so many concepts felt, seen
    and thriving is this feeling I have within me
    for I have grown wiser from my experiences
    played puppet and now I dance the strings with ease
    it’s electrifying to know that I can direct my movements
    rest assured, Life is calling,
    finally,
    and I am welcomed by it.

    there is no chance that I’ll allow it to
    pass me by again
    or wreak havoc on my heart and mind
    allow others to observe, perhaps gain,
    it’s not their fault any more than it is mine,
    human nature can be cruel,
    and unkind.

    selfish gains were proceeds
    and my life seemed unworthy
    moments taken from me
    but I gave and I gave
    like rolling pebbles I threw moments away
    and now I reign and roar –
    this World I explore.

    so many experiences, so many instances
    so many to love to appreciate to share knowledge with
    creativity to become more learned shared growth
    and brightness personified fills my irises
    pupils engorged selfish eyes
    I will
    take. my. fill
    and my heart screams with passion,
    so shrill.

    I wish I had learned earlier how to be a participant
    and take my taste,
    that its not about receiving but giving also,
    to others we must respect and kneel
    and equality will soon reign when I realise
    what is now staring me in the face:
    Love, Life, Personal Astronomy,
    travel the stars moon sun planets of my heart and my soul
    ever so freely…
    (11/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Ben Mack from Pexels

    Previous Post: inner child – 11/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock

  • Poem: inner child – 11/12/21

    Poem: inner child – 11/12/21

    resonating frequencies
    the juvenility isn’t childish
    it’s precious
    our inner children come out to play
    shy eyes mischievous gazes
    instead of claps we play with words
    his play is exciting, skilled, self-assured.

    we giggle together as we converse with ease
    flinging passions upon the table
    how we meld so easily
    minds connect soul spirit
    intellect
    how amazing to find another
    who treasures the magic within the other
    almost immediately

    smiling delightedly we knew there was a connection
    our shared interests
    our creative fusions
    take a sip of my designer caffeine hit,
    yes, predilections,
    we’re just adults housing our curious inner children.  

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (10/12/21)

    Previous Post: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram: laurenm.hancock

  • Poem: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21

    Poem: dirty fatigue – 11/12/21

    fatigue washes over me
    like a deadly dirty sin
    engulfing me embodying me
    takes its fill of me in
    my vision how it blurs
    swaying leaning I reach forth
    unintentionally, of course
    im falling im falling in a manner
    completely unacceptable
    breaking me
    there’s no such thing as monotony

    I fall asleep in place
    sitting up
    apparent hours minutes seconds seem to race
    i’m broken yet oddly assured that I’ll at least
    succeed at gaining some rest
    the writing that ordinarily takes ten minutes to pen
    fifteen minutes left until the almost-full hour
    disjointed thoughts and messages jotted
    now to entertain.

    I will not cry I will not moan
    victim mentality is not in my being known
    I do not know why I am suffering this way
    though, three to four hours a night
    each rest is broken like shattered pavement
    beneath my bare toes

    concentration is a joke
    my eyes my mind travels
    traverse their own wanderlust
    and walking ahead upon a path
    noticing men and women canoodling
    at half-mast
    I cannot ascertain fully what is occurring
    inside my brain
    though I suspect, ascertain, hypomanic is
    the state.

    shall we lead into mania,
    I wonder to myself,
    this polar extreme highlighted by my fervent actions
    frantically creating unto myself
    but there comes a point where I must
    Slow. It. Down.
    I do not know I do not know
    how to escape this vicious cycle
    or, am I meant to simply deal with it
    on my own?

    the moral support which
    could be provided
    is severely unacceptable
    for some assessments are rubbish
    wanting me to be under a yowling’s affair
    instead:
    tik tok tik tok laissez-faire
    rare visitations to my foreign bed.

    Original artwork by myself.
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    (10/12/21)

    Previous Post: boy, what’s your name again? -10/12/21
    clear to see – 10/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

    Instagram @laurenm.hancock