Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: prose poetry

  • Prose: Freedom – 29/05/21

    Prose: Freedom – 29/05/21

    I trust the magic will imbue, with my soul it will carry me through, into the Great Unknown, where hands and eyes await a certain prize, something to peruse, some agent to get high, to ride on euphoria – these days, it’s time, karmic balance, get paid.

    Their surrounding palms reach and reach; through a black hole, they rise forth, making some regret wanting to live, and those eyes, beady, uninterrupted, staring orbs, they could never placate disaster, never cause a broken heart to mend, to become less torn.

    They live to receive; to take from me, each piece of my puzzle which I had placed hesitantly, and then so deftly, will now be taken away from their family, their home, because of spiteful eyes and appendages of others, gone rogue and free.

    But, I am joyful, because unlike these hands, unlike these eyes, I can dance, away and aware, for I am coursing with power, I am alive. Escape is not an option, it is the only way, the only path, my decision, my freedom can never be taken or bought, only given away, or treasured and retained.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Luis Dalvan from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Jewels of Thought’ – 29/05/21

    Previous Post: ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ – 28/05/21

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  • Prose: Jewels of Thought – 29/05/21

    Prose: Jewels of Thought – 29/05/21

    The jewels of thought glimmer as the trove presents its offering. Sparkling, lustrous, scintillating, these contemplations are part of more than bearings of either king or queen. These are not controlled by royalty: they are presently waiting, awaiting new processes, though their method of glimmering is surprisingly passive; they lay there, waiting to be selected by us.

    The jewels, jewels of thought have one true source – a master thinker, a genius, a contemplative-conjurer, who has fashioned these offerings for everybody from spicks and specks of this and that, everything, and blocks of thoughts are honoured before selection shall be made tentatively, then bravely, then freely.

    Can we not form our own thoughts? Let intuition speak to you and myself, that gut feeling, third-eye instinct? Though, sometimes it’s comfortable to have a guider, a leader, to see.

    The wonder we feel in the moment when we receive this gift, a single, procured gift-wrapped thought, suddenly deemed so precious you don’t even want to undo the ribbon’s bow now.

    So, you sit with it, hold onto it, cherish this gilded box with a single cherished thought. You know not what it is, whether ignition, calm or cataclysmic indeed, you accept your inner self is enough – the gifted thought is unnecessary, only novelty, its newness will not outlast.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ – 28/05/21

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  • Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    In the darkness, I hear a groan. A guttural cry then, of sorts, rises from the gloom. Startled, I jump, not knowing which way to reach or turn, how to, can I even assist? From the past, when will I learn?

    A being is sprawled upon the uneven ground, I only perceive their form after my eyes adjust to the darkness, now revealed as subtle monochromes. With an outstretched arm, the being drags themselves forward, one hand pulls, then the other, and I can’t tell if male or female without difficulty. All that matters is that they are in obvious distress, how can I enable their comfort? How can I make their internal pain less? With a shriek, they shudder, a prolonged fit, then, no movement for an age, as though in some form of forced coma, then eyes wide open – they’ve come to! And their expression, sheer horror, why I’m the one who now shudders.

    A supernatural state clouds their eyes, and a dreamy smile purses their lips – who possesses their spirit? It’s difficult for me to decide. But I am fearful of this figure who shrieks and wails, for they seem unnatural, not of this world, something awry has dragged their spirit or soul through a type of anguishing hell. It seems beyond me to assist, I do not know how to clear their internal pain, in vain, in vain, I feel helpless, tell myself I must walk away. They seem beyond repairing; somehow they must do it on their own, I am not strong enough. Surely for another saviour they must call, I hope for them, the bell shall not toll.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Aakash Sethi from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘A Foretelling Sense of Importance’ – 27/05/21

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  • Prose: A Foretelling Sense of Importance – 27/05/21

    Prose: A Foretelling Sense of Importance – 27/05/21

    I prioritise the things that are important, so too, the people in my life. I acknowledge every moment, but I magnify the truth behind what’s necessary or needed. What is unnecessary will fall by the wayside; I must work to the best of my ability to sort the endangered from the general herd. And to understand that people bless me with their presence, with a smile, a tilted upward nod, a wink and a half, knowing that they’re instilling their emotions and feeling, well, this is a sign of their efforts to form a second’s connection – their own sense of priority, a type of gentle dedication.

    I feel a sense of progress travel with me while everything paves the way for me. I watch as the invitingly tactile moss rises from the cracks in between the pavers, slowly, slowly, I know that it will become plentiful, these rows, with time. And softened like green clouds, upon them I could rest my head, sleeping in a state of fitful rest, that, with a heart so heavy, could carry nothing else but what is already inside of me.

    One who can foretell the future through their writing – is it what you would call an intuit, or something else? For when I prioritise with words, my messy cursive, my gentle, haphazard scrawl, I detail that which becomes strangely relevant into the future days: ideas, feelings, formulae. It’s oddly relevant, this is what I have to say. Perhaps my subconscious forewarns and foretells, and it is up to me to discern which way my truths should be taken – warnings or fate, these would, by then, have already been spelled, typed, and saved, hypotheticals and predictions become reality to be seen, shall I become yet amazed? No, but I will take heed of what has been written upon my page.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen’ – 26/05/21

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  • Prose: A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen – 26/05/21

    Prose: A Decree to be Felt, Heard, and Seen – 26/05/21

    There’s a gentle humming surrounding my being, as though I’m reverberating from the inside-out. Something warm and prominent spreads out to my border, my aura, and there’s no ill feeling, nor any sign of doubt. Every inch of flesh breathes shudders with gentle flow, reminding me I’m living and breathing and, with connectedness to a higher source, my energy resonates and grows.

    Feeling at one with nature, with a higher power, with the Universe, enlivens this once world-weary being – growth, new life, refreshening, was a process. A method through madness, through lost will, through journeys untold, which dragged me down, and further still, until I made the decision to respect myself, my life, to be grateful and follow a process of knowing who I could become through determination, sheer power and will.

    I no longer meander; I can hold my head high, having direction feels glorious in this life. I chose, I made the decision to surround myself with those who will build themselves up, not tear myself down; I need to travel with those who want to help themselves or at least receive assistance to learn to care for and develop themselves.  My capabilities are used to live and improve, but if outstretching a hand temporarily to others means being a guiding support, I’ll offer it to be held, but I cannot promise to be a crutch, or the solution to something I’m not obliged to solve. With resolution, I will endeavour to be understanding and present, but sometimes Life calls for separation and dissolution, through power of common sense, dignity, and free will.

    Bury the hatchet, disguise concealed intents, this world requires us to co-exist with love, praise, and harmony, but I must retain the right to still be treated with respect. There is no space in my world for words of heightening degrees, heated blame to vent, not calmly speak, these will no longer constrict me, to the horizon’s beauty my eyes will focus, opportunity for continued happiness which I have chosen and undertaken as my decree.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo courtesy of Pexels.

    Previous Post: ‘Bouncing Back to Clarity’ – 25/05/21

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  • Prose: Dawning Realisation – 24/05/21

    Prose: Dawning Realisation – 24/05/21

    The penny dropped and I finally understood – what it means to live life to the full. It doesn’t mean to be a daredevil, to jump out of a plane, to rush alongside a mountain, seeking adrenalin in vain. It means to seize every opportunity, to live life with joy and exuberance each day, taking in the wonder, exploring while you absorb, bask in the moments, or simply sit and ponder, or pray.

    To experience all there is to receive is some kind of bliss, opening up ourselves, warm-heartedly, arms flung open, to receive Life’s kiss, and wonder not at the circumstances which may present negatively – these are only experiments provided to test ye.

    Highs cannot exist without comparative lows; if there weren’t, we’d just be floating, aimlessly treading water, without an undertow. What I am saying is we need to approach Life with much welcoming, stepping into the unknown and beginning to – fresh air – breathe freely and experience wholeheartedly and knowingly.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Bells Will Chime’ – 23/05/21

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  • Prose: Bells Will Chime – 23/05/21

    Prose: Bells Will Chime – 23/05/21

    All the bells in the world could not aptly signal your arrival. Announcing your presence, your appearance should be heralded with angels, voices forever forthcoming, and the beauty in your eyes, blue buttons, will always precede that glimmering, shining smile which sends dances of delight in my heart to occur, and sparkle within my own eyes.

    Flights of light fancy chime through my soul as I ask myself – is this the beginning of a future forever told? An amazing sunset in the distance reminds me that ebbs and flows are set and when this occurs, our spirits will dance so lively, effervescent and ultimately together and ours.

    Your smile delights and encompasses my heart, sends pleasant chills, a sign you may be a true counterpart, there’s nothing alien about this – this firm sense of bliss, come hither, come closer, upon my cheek, lay a gentle kiss.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Pana Kutlumpasis from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘The Fool’ – 22/05/21

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  • Prose: Spells and Magic – 20/05/21

    Prose: Spells and Magic – 20/05/21

    Spells and magic occur each and every day. It’s up to us whether we perceive them, or whether they go unnoticed – like glitter, they can fall before us, bright and vivid speckles falling where they may.

    A spell can touch the very tip of a nose and cause a sudden smile; one might not know why, how or when, but joy is flooding their insides again. Like a stork bringing an infant to the stoop, magic delivers us happiness and wonder – in order for emotions to converge, does a stork need to be truth? Can we not accept the notion and dream, of a desired, oft-prayed for delivery, as wholesome, contented proof?

    Spells, spells, spells, they’re all around, delivered from up above, and reverberation with insistence from down-below. A sorcerer never reveals the source of their conjuring, but ultimately though, they should project positive intentions onto us knowingly. A wand can lithely dance in patterns, held by a skilled hand, one gesture and a wish has been made at the wielder’s command.

    But what about ‘everyday magic’? Or the lyrical words and images of writers and poets? Or artists’ imagery and feelings splashed onto cardboard, paper and canvas? Or children’s peals of laughter, the licking of a cheek from a puppy-dog’s tongue, the social inclusion which makes one feel a part of a whole as fellow sports supporters join in song. The shivers, the goosebumps on one’s arms as something amazing is heard, digested, or watched, the assurance felt when one clasps hands with someone they truly love.

    All here is real magic, drifting from my pen, surely many more instances can be detailed, and I won’t need to repeat any tales of already-expended magic, for they’ll be so much for you to all presently share from your own pens.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Olya Kobruseva from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Cherished’ – 19/05/21

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  • Prose: Cherished – 19/05/21

    Prose: Cherished – 19/05/21

    A special meaning is encompassed by me today. I could sit and weep, allow my day to decay. I could jump up and dance, a public cover-up, a farce, but I’ll do neither of these upon this sun-shining morning in May.

    Instead, I will thread myself together, sewn and stitched, with determination, insistence, for me, repair isn’t a bother. Over time, each thread has painfully entered through, needle to skin, insertion of freshly-wound cotton, much to some’s chagrin. I am whole now, no dangling pieces, after years of floundering, I’m becoming daisies and roses, blooming to see, scented, delicate petals to touch. A figure made human, adorned with hearts and trust.

    This figure’s flowerbed is smaller now, visitors and residents are fewer, but still, in delicate rows, and they’re all admired and admirable, intricate and wonderful, each petal to unfurl, their own histories to tell.

    Within this garden, in this land on the property of a safe house, we are all gathered here today, some mended from brokenness, others in the midst of sad decay. These latter we cannot help but keep company as they slowly bend their heads and weep, today is their time for demise, but in this company, kind and true, they wouldn’t have their exit any other way.

    And from the dying petals, which should be preserved while scattered, by sheets of ornate glass, their colours will join with the earth, create food, life for others. Goodbye is not always despairing when they’ve been cherished in many ways. Goodbye can be a new way of voicing a fresh beginning, from the decay arises freshness, an opportunity for new life to shine and remain.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘I Will Not Write About Love’ – 18/05/21

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  • Prose: Learning to be Content – 16/05/21

    Prose: Learning to be Content – 16/05/21

    I sit and I’m awash with contentedness, my full midsection makes me smile, and causes my toes to pleasantly curl. I’ve not felt this comfortable warmth amid a toasty winter’s bedroom in what seems like forever – I welcome the feeling, note the lack of mental feud. For, to feel and be satiated, with no inkling of guilt present when lately it’s haunted, consumed me for so long, is to show signs of progress, normalcy, and a rightness of thought.

    I feel a fire within my belly and a welcome drowsiness within my mind, lethargy is settling in, and regret is surprisingly hard to find. Whereas in the past, I’d pick and pick at my ‘weakness’ for allowing my capacity to slightly fill, I realise, I know now, I can make wiser choices, and this satiation I don’t have to begrudge, hate myself for, nor become angered or rage at myself as a drill.

    I realise, to some, how petty my worries may seem, stupid, precious or ridiculous to those with little or no empathy, but disordered thinking compounded by years certainly has an effect, and this comfortability now is a breakthrough here, I’ll allow my smile to continue yet.

    Still, balance must always be assumed, continually studied, and practiced, I cannot allow myself to become too comfortable, and make poor judgements, but, to be kinder to myself, it’s important as there is nobody else, no one here eternally, I am the one who must look after myself, my health, and my energy. Upon this path, it is so important for my journey, for my personal growth, and for my stability.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Александар Цветановић from Pexels

    Previous Post: ‘Unwanted Barbs – 15/05/21

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