Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: solitude

  • Poem: transparent duration – 01/12/21

    Poem: transparent duration – 01/12/21

    as time passes
    the seconds allow me to
    comprehend
    to ascertain
    to understand

    that duration is really just a
    dependent notion
    when one is hoping for some form
    of deep contemplation

    analyse the silences
    the breaths unmade
    the sleeves of unspoken words
    heard felt seen

    the trailing of ellipsis
    what is this business
    of wondering
    waiting
    delving into my open chasm
    of ticking hands, unwanted and unfree?

    tirades not expelled
    why, there is no form in this,
    shapeshifters, need to delve,
    a prism of understanding
    no need to be handed the key
    and warranting the notion
    that sadness is a well
    a swirling potion
    a knowing
    all-knowing
    sins wrought,
    I didn’t commit any of them

    just a misunderstanding
    discomfort
    but to speak further would trump
    the lot of them.

    should one censor choice words
    when being themselves
    speaking freely
    no motives in place
    only transparency…
    (30/11/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

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    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: To Adjust – 20/10/21

    Poem: To Adjust – 20/10/21

    To isolate, but willingly,
    set aside myself from
    that once-hurried life,
    is something rightfully
    required, and
    I know this as such.

    To work on myself –
    self-improve,
    take the time to relax,
    not always be ‘at it’,
    the social butterfly,
    no longer me.

    I am repetitive, yes,
    but it’s to do with
    my training,
    the ability to wash over
    myself affirming words
    every morning.

    Others have done so too,
    taken their paths,
    months, years prior,
    I’m here at long last,
    watching, willing, no longer
    passively waiting,
    but performing all that
    needs doing,
    and more so,
    just so there’s no yearning.

    And pieces of me
    once scattered around
    the globe
    by uncaring hearts who took,
    each piece
    dropped, thrown,
    now I caress my gathered shards
    that make up my
    healing, healing heart,
    loving, warming self-care,

    I toss aside my long ebony hair
    and valiantly smile
    for I am here,
    grateful and alone,
    I sit atop my chair
    and feel contentment;
    this world is finally
    feeling like a home.

    Surrounded by everything
    once prized, now lacking meaning,
    because material possessions,
    what need have I for everything?
    Give my heart and soul to another when
    time deems it ready.

    Wondrous, this process
    of learning to turn thoughts around,
    look at the positive, hopefully always,
    feed myself with joyous messages,
    sounds, thoughts.

    I need to do this
    not just for myself
    but for those closest to me,
    I, myself, them, deserve only
    the best version of me,
    and if this means isolation,
    temporarily from the world,
    people,
    friends,
    as much as I can,
    I’ll take this time,
    adjust myself accordingly,
    and allow my truest heart to shine.
    (15/10/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

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    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: Solitude – 18/01/21

    Poem: Solitude – 18/01/21

    Sometimes the solitude in my mind becomes too much.
    It runs circles around and around itself,
    for air, it will soon gasp.
    Because the opening, the gaping of the truest arms
    is something too available,
    for something unasked.

    Little nuances here and there,
    bad habits being acknowledged,
    must be aware,
    for because how can improvement occur
    where we’re idolising change of dust relative to the sun?
    I’ll tell you this: my own constellation could stun.

    Thus, I’ll allow myself to be here,
    proud and quiet,
    in my own right,
    I will never give up this new-found fight,
    where palms around coated with thick, relaxing oils,
    straight from Mother Earth.
    transformation,
    I am sold.


    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Demian Tejeda-Benitez on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Aloud – 24/08/20

    Poem: Aloud – 24/08/20

    These four walls are like a haven
but to some, they could be misconstrued as a prison.
I choose to reside here, taking my meals and my naps,
 
speaking at length, researching, creating, typing in bursts,
it is my little home, it is my little world,
and I only leave when I’ve need to –
 
I’m isolating myself, I know.
 
I should be downstairs,
spending time with my others,
socialising, eating together, taking tea together and our suppers,
 
but I somehow just want to be alone,
I reach out when I feel on my own,
but, the fact of the matter is, I’m learning to like my own company.
 
No desperate yearning for an unknown other,
to fulfil my life, to make me feel as though
I’m emotionally satisfied,
 
no ongoing calls to different people to
find the right one
in fact, I have enough love in my world to peruse,
 
and while alone, I can be whoever, whatever I want,
no need to put on false pretenses,
I can read, I can sleep with ease,
 
and the truth is that I know I won’t be judged
for spending time alone,
this is how I am getting to know myself.
 
And I’m really enjoying it,
I have to say this
aloud.

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

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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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