Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: spiritual poetry

  • poem: breath of the wild – 14/05/22

    poem: breath of the wild – 14/05/22

    breath of the wild
    intuitive is the means
    in which life should be led
    upheaval can distend tightened seams
    and there is a certain understanding
    that change can’t displace
    one’s destiny
    but time, oh, my innocence,
    will neither aggravate nor alter
    Fate’s true intensity.

    bulging at the middle
    a curious heap
    in the middle there’s an aching
    something wants to be seen
    it’s the beginnings of eye-watering truth
    a stanza made none-too-soon
    enlighten the world
    to your energy
    your inner zeal
    the affirmations to burst through
    into the waking sun,
    streams of light celebrating in melodies
    which elaborately unfurl.
    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork from Pixabay.

  • poem: healing has a language – 04/04/22

    poem: healing has a language – 04/04/22

    Healing has a language,
    I whisper softly,
    airily it knows,
    of the simplicity
    and the duality
    of wondrous beauty,
    poetry and prose,
    the writers and the poets
    swing each way in kind,
    whimsical deciduous trees
    sway our way,
    whispering in turn,
    and slightly, just slightly
    out of time.

    The rhythm does not plod,
    it’s a mirror of complex minds,
    the syncopation, patterns, drives us ahead,
    out west, north, south,
    east: we fly through time,
    we develop our skills –
    it’s not just a hobby,
    this is our dream,
    to share love, passion, mythology,
    chances and pain,
    healing,
    vocal rhythms drive us to where we need,
    healing mankind.
    @laurenm.hancock
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.
    Image from Pixabay.

  • poem: falling, falling – 03/04/22

    Prompts used:

    • Dearest Heart, I’m falling apart
    • My soul burns
    • Forlorn flames

    Title: falling, falling
    by Lauren M. Hancock

    My dearest heart I am
    falling
    apart
    I turn and burn,
    my soul is engulfed by the
    wandering cruel actions,
    my soul, it speaks, it shrieks,
    my spirit rises forth

    away from the gloom
    I fall apart
    floating, into pieces,
    ashes fly high and away,
    my darling heart watch me
    as I fall apart,
    my soul is destroyed.

    I wanted this but I am not of
    sound mind,
    the intricacies which arise
    when one splits pieces
    which are meant to remain whole,
    alive,
    spectacular though this is,
    like a fireworks display I watch my chakras
    break into shattered wheels of light
    brightening the sights for someone else
    who wishes to view a colourful plight.

    Shall I dance away the pain, dear lover?
    Forgetting that my happiness, my heart and its feelings
    do not bother,
    how far shall I go to be truly loved?
    Not by another but by myself,
    to stop this nonsense cremation I first need to
    extract my inner poison.

    But it is long gone, I’ve sucked it clean from my veins,
    watch me, watch me work at this prospect,
    lest we find the pathway leads to a garden’s winding path,
    I explore it in vain.

    forlorn flames then lick at my calves,
    my ankles my inner thighs, soft flesh treated, imbued,
    I’m nobody’s sea baby anymore,
    sink those ashes
    silt and soul-binding,
    and rise forevermore,
    myself, my inner love,
    will never disband,
    entwined forevermore.
    @laurenmhancock
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by Alice Alinari on Pixabay

  • poem: cherished – 28/03/22

    the magic of the Universe calls
    spiral patterns curl
    reminding us of grandma,
    mother and child
    the lush serene nature
    of breath
    glows from Gaia’s glorious eyes
    enlivened spirits
    exploring elves
    glittering sprightly sprites.
    I am amazed by the clouded blue before me
    above rainbows threaten to fall
    magnificent oceans,
    raging and still, waiting
    for the next wet treasure from
    Nature’s dripping eyes
    a blessing unto the animals
    forest dwellers
    and rainforest homes
    deserts with Libyan sand
    and zircon from a mystical land we should roam;
    emerald green reflected in
    the water of savannah’s dreams.
    Magic all around
    this world we call home
    cherish it we must
    trees to shoot forth,
    the jungle cats
    sleek and pleased
    birds soar on high
    eagles rise, swans dive.
    Precious be the little bugs
    who escape most eyes
    rescued spiders then released from harm
    by hands who love them to hide
    entranced, enchanted
    by the world we have here
    already created for us
    respect Gaia
    let us not destroy this bliss
    remain spellbound
    know her
    love, seal Nature’s union with a kiss.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by KELLEPICS on Pixabay.

  • poem: universal aura – 24/03/22

    poem: universal aura – 24/03/22

    The universal white light surrounds me, an ethereal net, damp, floaty cloud so soft I bounce into, not against it… freeform, flow, billowy nature’s growth, it is like an extra being within the room, some giant, invisible, quietly huffing and puffing, he smiles as he cloaks my aura, now no longer a sunny yellow disposition, but made into a vagrant’s imposition…

    I am now unwelcome in this land, my journey blocked pathways, no obvious pillowed dreams.

    I silently make my wishes known, my love must be acknowledged, for the other, feelings owned, the waves within my mind and being speak of delicate imperfection. We wrangle in motion, arms flailing, tongues lashing, and I realise, without an understanding, what on earth has happened, I am seen only as a bother that must be cleanly slid away, beneath the rug, swept under, and this giant ghost of an aura which surrounds me now was employed by the best of them, a master in charge, something, someone from on high.

    I cannot determine his leader though, the degenerative nature still swims in his intent, and I know I must rid myself of this vagrant label before I become too spent. Enough of these games, I shrilly call to myself, and he, wherever his head and ears to register might be. A cloud of fluff is now not that exciting to see…

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Artwork by KELLEPICS on Pixabay

  • poem: spiritual beauty, soft melody – 22/03/22

    poem: spiritual beauty, soft melody – 22/03/22

    the dance the flautist sweetly breezes her melody,
    I can barely hold myself together
    that breath which creates wonder
    not an insolent din,
    fires once raged
    and sins were born
    but hell hath no current feature,
    gone, perpetually, is that scorn!

    no devils raging on shoulders,
    no carrying heavy loads to break
    weary backs,
    they do not prance their fiendish means
    above the line of fresh air,
    because, because,
    they are no longer there.

    free of sin
    and lightly taking in
    the trilling shrill song,
    breezing
    of the instrument filled with delight
    and winding heart song, streams,
    what is it they look for
    what is it they search for now?
    peace, serenity,
    and then jubilance all around!

    angels ring and angels call
    they embark upon journeys
    to those one-lost souls
    perpetuating the knowledge
    of a thousand years,
    the collection,
    the atoms,
    enlightening.

    purple: violet and lilac,
    yellow: citrine and gold,
    ruby in her richest red,
    and pink, mauves,
    all around.
    And rose gold surrounding
    that symbol of love,
    yes, this integral melody,
    beautiful piece,
    has been carefully constructed,
    for the flautist, carefully made
    like a perfect bouquet for her
    grown.

    He takes her hand,
    as gently as can be,
    enlivened soul,
    enriched loving eyes,
    they know truest loves meant to be,
    deep inside.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash.

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose Home

  • poem: arm in arm – 21/03/22

    poem: arm in arm – 21/03/22

    Multifaceted and colours of the spectrum,
    a man romantic,
    with heart pounding
    for his love, eternal,
    to return to him again,
    their binding shade,
    deep violet,
    wondrous spiritual shade.

    they entered the world with floating stars
    when she decided to calmly
    leave this planet,
    she was relaxed,
    she knows her charms,
    arm in arm he accompanied her,
    then returned to a land, near not far.

    Oh, how loyal he is to her,
    it’s not just memories that keep her alive
    his sentiment for her is so pure,
    loving loving eternity
    they will never come undone
    here, nor the skies,

    betwixt for forever, a future lifetime
    still as One
    they will always remain together
    in heart, soul and mind,
    truest aching love.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image by Jo-B from Pixabay

  • poem: harken – 20/03/22

    poem: harken – 20/03/22

    it is with joy
    that I thank this
    world that I live in,

    This Universe that makes my
    heart sing,
    a certain knowing that tender love
    does bring.

    I thank the Universe for my guides,
    the archangels for their presence,
    and with goodness and grace
    heaven sent, I thank the Lord for being
    there for me, even when at times
    I fail at acknowledgement.

    Raise my ears to the Heavens,
    scorch the skies with my passions,
    and Kingdom Come,
    there is magic in my circumstance,
    delirium in my instance,
    and an amazing reverie for us to view,
    to speak of, to sing with,
    my darlings, won’t you harken with me?

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay.

  • post: i will be – 01/03/22

    post: i will be – 01/03/22

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock

    I will be the boisterous me
    I will grin and bear the dreams
    I will heal and steal that light
    the sun of the Son of the Sun
    I will rise when the prisms sparkle rainbow sheens
    I will be fortuitous
    and reach for desired dreams
    I will call and call for items like sticky pearls
    because they satiate my need for nourishment
    be and end all.

    I won’t fold beneath pressure
    I will contemplate and begin to once again know my other
    my shadow self I will tame and feed her charisma
    my Peter-Pan syndrome
    my rainbow sprite self won’t go under

    I will live with an inner dream
    childhood fantasies of writing and creating art and music
    are everything, as they seemed
    I will not complain nor will I whine
    because within is my great divine
    and I will reach it, reach her,
    the moment I speak I will become of her

    Let the laymen understand me
    and even let the complex mock me
    I won’t heed their warnings
    their shooting signs
    because this is my life
    and I’ll direct it just fine.

    Whittle down the edges of a
    childhood book with worn pages
    and travel with me
    travel, become,
    love is what keeps us together,
    and we shan’t come undone.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.   
    Photo from Pixabay
    01/03/22

  • Poem stream: premonition – 31/12/21

    Poem stream: premonition – 31/12/21

    I dance with momentous energy
    flying through the silver screen
    calling to thee and welcoming, see
    the seer within me drives to flee

    and wanton moments desirous times
    fly and wind designing mine
    and I realise the calling the calling of the designated stalling
    is in the horses radiance
    the unicorns fallings

    she understands knows the truth is at hand
    unravelling the dictations of the universe
    control shift COMMAND

    the crystals reflecting your flash is as smooth

    as the cerulean blue in my heart for you
    but darling see this moment,
    this tirade this flight this path and know that I am the one for you
    I am the one who calls with truth
    I am the one being stalked sold for you
    because, because the world
    is not right without our charms
    refresh the page,
    anew.
    (31/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.