Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: quiet

  • Poem: Solitude – 17/12/20

    Poem: Solitude – 17/12/20

    A little bit of freedom,
    a nice hot cup of tea,
    or a long black, milk served on the side,
    soon to be enjoyed by little old me.

    Wandering around and around,
    little sights to be appreciated,
    to be seen,
    things we took for granted
    once upon a time,
    now appreciative I am,
    and I’ll continue to be.

    But things are different,
    they’re somehow not the same,
    I can’t change what’s occurred,
    the situation cannot be tamed.

    So, I wander,
    and I think,
    and I tell myself,
    don’t reminisce,
    because it’ll only cause things
    internalised to leap out from within.

    There are things that shan’t be
    spoken of,
    there are things which can be thought of well,
    because,
    there were times when
    happiness was surrounding,
    like a bubble, laughter like a potion,
    not poison but intoxicating,
    it’s now in the past,
    the solution diluted into a salty ocean.

    I wander the areas where light footprints
    were tracked many times,
    from favourite stores,
    to favourite shops,
    joy and widened eyes,

    “Look at that!” I’d exclaim,
    “Look at this,” I would call,
    “and here,” I would point,
    my words no longer listened to at all.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

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  • Poem: The Inspiring Nature of Silence – Audio and Text – 09/06/20

    Poem: The Inspiring Nature of Silence – Audio and Text – 09/06/20

    Melodious but intrusive tunes,
notes pummelling my head,
I need serenity,
a sense of quiet,
for my thoughts to develop, to process
and later be said,
then shared.
 
The music, though in the background
it is rude, unintentionally evicts,
any chance,
any sense of imaginative words
to be brought to life,
with the distraction
they fail to exist.
 
The notes,
the rise and fall of melodies,
they are truly terrifying and deafening,
a lack of threaded thoughts, 
a barren forest of consciousness,
I traverse,
I wander blindly.
 
Though at a volume,
a decibel,
that may
calm another’s senses,
 
relax them,
muscles easing tension,
brain waves altering,
 
to me,
it is like a repetitive
noisy neighbour,
relentless,
intent on knocking for a shared and unwarranted
cup of tea,
I don’t know about others,
but my creations need silence all around me.
 
Thankfully my explanation
of this music as a distractor,
allows another to understand
that with my thoughts I am their maestro,
of them my will should command.
 
Though it may seem ironic,
that a being such as I
with a musical background
such a large part of my life,
cannot bear creating
my words with an unwanted backing,
 
this is the way I know
my best state of mind
in which to be,
 
I want the silence,
the silence,
where moments of creativity
can easily strike me.
 
The moment the intrusion is ceased,
the moment silence arrives,
what hits me?
 
A burst of inspiration,
I reach for my pen,
and hope to vividly capture the leading thoughts
in my mind,
perhaps I’ll make my own poetic music,
rhythm, metre, tone, rhyme.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by Comfreak from Pixabay
    https://soundcloud.com/user-894707136/the-inspiring-nature-of-silence-spoken-word-poetry

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  • Prose Poetry: The Stormy Sky – 28/03/20

    Prose Poetry: The Stormy Sky – 28/03/20

    I sit by my window and stare at the sky. There is nothing more beautiful in this very moment that I can capture, nothing else which can cause my heart to swell with appreciation. The clouds, they gather in wisps and blobs – light though, they are – they have this sort of moodiness about them, this white and grayness culminating in the distance.

I am pleased with my seated position, for here I can observe that which I wish to, the land of kingdoms above, and the land below, that which we are blessed to walk upon. I smile to myself at knowing that one day, I will be permitted to enter the kingdom above, a knowledge that makes me feel such warmth inside, I cannot adequately describe the feeling. 

Thus, I relax, and observe, and suddenly two gulls pass by and through my vision. The sea is such a calming place, even when the wind is gusting and the nearby sand dunes are throwing speckles of sand onto the skin of my face, I still can appreciate it, I am glad that I live here. These gulls are a sign of hope: they are out foraging, no doubt. They are alive and well, just as we are, within our isolated worlds. It is a necessity to be alone sometimes, and I know that this precious time can be taken to understand and hold gratitude toward everything positive presented to me in life. Even the negative, I surmise, because these experiences have taught me lessons.

I continue to stare at the sky, the clouds now gathering angrily: cumulus, fierce, dark. It is as though they are forewarning of a time when my mind will grow stormy, the thoughts clouded in my crammed mind. Sometimes there are too many, they stagnate within my skull, washing away the peace and tranquillity which was originally there to be felt and observed.

And suddenly, through the open pane, the first smell of rain permeates into my nostrils, that deep soil-like odour, mixed with the humidity of the pavement. I relish this scent; I have cherished it from years prior, during my childhood where it reminded me of the pre-empting of some of the most glorious and appreciated downpours ever to be seen. I wish to dance in the rain, you see. Unfortunately, this cannot be.

Instead, I watch a new pair of birds soar and duck and dive, their forms so delightfully wonderful, streamlined and sheer perfection. Sometimes I wish I were one of those birds, if only for a moment. I could fly to my heart’s content, and never feel the need to further understand my yearning for it. But in a few seconds, they are gone, and I am left with their vision in my mind’s eye. Their freedom mimics that which beats within my heart, a desire, a yearning, for freedom outside the closed doors.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.   
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

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  • Poem: Those Few Hours – 22/02/20

    Poem: Those Few Hours – 22/02/20

    If only for a few hours,
I felt stable,
grounded,
calmed.
 
I could attribute it to absolutely nothing,
or I could attribute to it to something new.
 
Either way, there is significance in the repose I experience,
a chance from the unquiet,
the river that no longer runs untamed,
the stream that moves with whispered breaths,
gentle hums upon the page.
 
I am now not highly strung, irritated by the smallest stressor,
taking everything so seriously,
or allowing poor behaviour of others run free
in a manner ill and dour.
 
I do not permit others to speak to me as though I am nothing,
I forcefully admonish, without the wild anger flung about,
designation now of freedom.
 
I am a cheerful totalitarian today,
nothing will wear me down,
I am neither negatively affected by poor, misjudged humour,
offensive, though it may be.
 
My addition in my life, I’ll carefully hush the words to you,
may be creating a fictious approach, a solution,
or perhaps something real from me to you.
 
Either way,
I am cured of the results of insensitive speech which had become,
my amulet,
my strength,
my assessment of the moment,
I can clasp it in my wanting hands.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

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