Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: self awareness

  • Poem: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21

    Poem: With Ease – A Swan Song – 09/08/21

    Living for the momentum and
    living for the dream,
    thoughts tossed,
    bruised and broken,
    living despite ill feeling.

    The circumstances are these:
    I do not taunt, I do not tease,
    I live above and beyond,
    how I experience the world,
    predication, I know it, for these.

    Warble yet, my dear swan,
    gangly neck though thee has,
    I do not know, do not know,
    whether the games played,
    stone’s thrown,
    will seriously cause another to
    come undone,
    thoughts expelled,
    contemplative or mad.

    The truth, the fact of the matter is,
    I’m rather like my own swan of truth,
    interweaving elegance and wings which flap
    with ease,
    bright glide and there’s no other
    than that another,
    who knows of my true crazy patterns
    they’re lived, so breathed,
    within, deep personal power.

    For it is with fluidity, with comfortability,
    that I have been allowed to define,
    contemplation, rumination, no stagnation,
    progress within this virulent nation,
    why, is this not a sight for sorry eyes?

    Treasuring this life as mine,
    gracious though precious be,
    I am grateful for my life situation,
    so much is calling unto me.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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    Previous Post: Refractions – 09/08/21

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  • Poem: Perfect Imperfections – 24/07/21

    Poem: Perfect Imperfections – 24/07/21

    Desperation doesn’t dance in my lair no more,
    ancient lands where false paradise laid in store,
    I drag my feet, trail my hair,
    catch myself in a transient mirror,
    I stare, lower gaze, then bravely rise,
    continue to stare some more.

    It’s difficult to gaze into ‘imperfections’
    that make myself me,
    my mind calls out with interjections,
    telling myself I’m exactly the way God intended
    me to be,
    self-acceptance,
    understanding,
    it slowly grows like soft moss within,
    flourishing,
    lush,
    promising,
    plush and ever-green.

    The sadness that used to plague,
    the desire, the want, to always change,
    the need to shrink, slim,
    now I raise a hand craftily,
    cock one hip,
    I am cheeky,
    for I know the secret here,
    I became more within,
    image doesn’t always have to fuel
    internal fires,
    in fact,
    focusing out the outer can fuel
    a dangerous inferno,
    an unwanted din.

    It is what is within that counts,
    am I happy with how I’m feeling,
    that matters most,
    am I confident,
    can I take my world in my stride,
    get up upon that rhetoric in life,
    and ride, ride, windswept, breathless,
    in control,
    ride?

    With maturity came preservation,
    with preservation came self-understanding,
    comprehension, direction,
    I know what truths I am sowing,
    even without the drive to direct in just one direction,
    I know, I know that my heart and mind
    are peaceful together,
    they’re becoming a solved puzzle of
    correct interaction.

    My soul doesn’t call out for acceptance,
    no longer calls out for
    painfully obvious acknowledgement,
    I don’t need the eyes to
    view what I already know,
    that my presence is enough,
    I am enough within this world.

    My heart, once a prison,
    is a cage thrown open,
    the dove is free for escaping,
    but she remains,
    treasured,
    adored,
    she is amazing,
    her own form of perfection,
    in short, she makes it.  

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash

    Previous Post: ‘Luminous’ – 22/07/21

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  • Poem: Ornate Wooden Box – 09/03/20

    Poem: Ornate Wooden Box – 09/03/20

    What’s in the wooden box?
An ornate engraved chest –
Does it promise me treasure?
Diamonds, jewels, gold?
It must with any luck.
 
I approach the container with trepidation,
My fingers tremble with delicious anticipation,
And the tremor which should rile me awfully
Pushes me forth:
The adrenaline is potent.
 
What will I find?
Something pleasing to the eye?
An ornate dream awaits me,
And I beg to see,
Continuing to hungrily breathe the moments in and out 
And in.
 
Each second,
Every centimetre,
My reaching hands,
My claw-like fingers,
Closer and closer until:
Revelation!
 
Inside there is nothing,
Illusory, so potent.
I tear aside all crushed expectation within.
 
The thrill was most certainly in the pursuit,
The hunting,
It was within the chase,
And I realise that what my mind,
My imagination,
Can conjure up
Is far more magical and worthwhile than
Any gold or diamond or jewel sparkling within my eyes.
 
More than anything these material possessions can prove 
At a later date,
My internal world,
The breadth of my dreaming,
This is the true gift I should accept 
As a prized possession in my life,
It is irrevocably part of my healing.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by myself.

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  • Prose Poetry: Hope – 01/11/19

    Prose Poetry: Hope – 01/11/19

    Hope is the feeling of a singing soul, the uprising of a perfectly white dove against the pristine blue sky, tickling its feathers in the tapestry of life. It is when our emotions run free, accepting of openness, love, and crystalline positivity. The promise of something only pure and of sincere goodness, that an individual cannot pull their eyes away from: the vision causes their heart to fill only with gladness and goodness. It is the sound of trickling water splashing quietly from a pond’s waterfall, the gentle and quiet understanding that of one’s future, you will be promised a special kind of scope, a reasoning in the mind and a strength within your soul, because the knowledge that arises is filled with hope for not you alone, but really for us all.

    Reach within and draw forth the seeds and encumbering ropes of a fortune told with supreme justice and knowledge that you will succeed, that lives will always hold some form of glistening and gleams; a perfection that the dove flying overhead can provide for us, yourself, myself, whomever, those who we can encounter in the land of Inbetween. Because isn’t that the point of it all? — to be hopeful even when events present as darkened, depressing, dismal, hopeless even? Allow your light to shine from the dark, and illuminate all that you are. Hope is but a state of mind, a sense of emotion away, embrace the understanding that what is felt will ultimately compel goodness and sincere positivity to flow your way.

    © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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