Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: spirituality

  • Poem: Flushed Magnolias – 28/07/21

    Poem: Flushed Magnolias – 28/07/21

    the strength within is something which
    must be seen,
    peel away those layers,
    let us view within,
    the armour, so thickly wrought,
    over years of abuse and mockery,
    self-taught, self-taught.

    darling, it’s time to make that move,
    inhabit a better place,
    wipe away your gloom,
    shine bright unto another day
    and then the next,
    your armour always protects,
    come what may.

    I know, I know, sweetheart,
    that at times it hurts,
    recalling that past behaviour,
    sour-filled words,
    you didn’t speak kindly to yourself,
    you spoke down to your ego,
    denigrated your heart,
    and at times, you tore yourself apart,

    but now, you can reach forth,
    aim for the stars,
    show that strength within that
    came with truth, experience,
    and the strongest of arms.

    know this, darling,
    my sweetheart,
    the yearning
    for more, from life,
    from your world,
    the pain is done,
     
    watch as your kingdom will come,
    truth be told the errors of self-talk
    will come undone,
    and your language will become fluent
    with self-love.

    it’s time to breathe freely,
    no encumbered breaths,
    infant-milky scent,
    from innocence you have grown,
    and into more, a strong woman
    you have become,

    in fact, shed that armour,
    for its strength has become a
    part of you,
    there’s no need for chainmail
    or steel layers
    when life’s become more peaceful,
    beautiful,
    more spiritual
    than a vase of flushed magnolias.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Rows of Rosies’ – 26/07/21

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  • Poem: Our Rainbow – 11/07/21

    Poem: Our Rainbow – 11/07/21

    I put on this ring of colours,
    gold and rainbow hues,
    it makes me brighter,
    mood lighter,
    fire –
    heart-starter,
    warmth within,
    such a factor.

    We bought this together,
    friendship-hearts,
    shared present,
    I appreciated your offer
    though perhaps I shouldn’t have taken it,
    and now, I wear it falsely right-handed,
    remembrance,
    rising mood with style,
    reminding me I’m that
    rainbow child.

    I don’t need pearls,
    diamonds,
    no other toys,
    no silly boys,
    just a best friend
    as close as can be,
    sometimes there’s
    misunderstanding
    but we extract,
    unwind, sometimes with difficulty,
    other times with ease.

    This rainbow child,
    rainbow sprite,
    how much I appreciate
    the company and smiles,
    listening ears, ever aware,
    perpetually there,
    breathing there,
    listening down the line,
    that phone connection is all,
    moments, hours spent,
    precious time, enthralled.

    And all the while
    my eyes dance
    as upon the colours
    I joyfully glance,
    they revive me,
    they remind me,
    that our friendship’s
    so precious to me,
    and I realise our connection
    has become like a second home to me.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Cruel Measures’ – 10/07/21

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  • Poem: Free-Spirited Heart – 19/06/21

    Poem: Free-Spirited Heart – 19/06/21

    You, my spirit friend,
    are an armour.
    A shield against the
    Outside World.

    You guard so I can swell
    with inner light,
    shine forth,
    brightly shine,
    sparkle,
    and twirl.

    You accompany me
    as my life I attend,
    poppies growing higher,
    I sniff, bent head,
    behind your warmth,
    your barrier
    I can be,
    I am growing like little poppies,
    so delicate and free.

    You watch with pride
    as I explore the world,
    listen to my bubbling pearls,
    shared words of wisdom,
    windows of advice,
    entered my life
    at the point of thrice.

    This free-spirited heart,
    she is confident, yes,
    but with discourse,
    accompaniment,
    her heart grows bigger,
    but less

    is the moment
    when she needs
    many helping hands,
    yours is the one who
    clears past life’s memories,
    the ones which do not need to be saved.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pexel.com

    Previous Post: ‘Trusting’ – 18/06/21

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  • Prose: Cocoon – 09/06/21

    Prose: Cocoon – 09/06/21

    I reside in this moment with you, beneath a lurid supermoon, its aura as precious as that fateful ‘oops’ moment when paths would intersect in artificial yet hounding gloom. I did not know it was necessarily the beginning of something fresh, yet also something promising pain, future blues, but shining through these circumstances are tid-bits of wonder, sparkles, delight would and does fly, I have to say, perfected upon many days and hours.

    Do I reminisce only on the appropriate moments, forgetting, forgiving, where I should not? The mental cavities, the pine-wood rot carrying, housing all these ill feelings I’d rather not transport? Perhaps I do, maybe block out the noise, sometimes certain people always have a pathway back into your life. And this is what I must say, where pieces of flung, shattered heart will not remain, after breaking I will have assistance from others, I need not perform surgery in vain.

    What seems warranted does not appear so to others, but internally, there is that pull, an indescribable power, that this person must remain, must return, like their presence was never cast aside, and so I ignore their former mental trains, their ability to cause hurt to my heart, aching and anger all the same. I excuse the errors, I forgive, forgive, somewhat naively, but that’s the price I decide to pay if I want fulfilled my detailed, scrawled yearnings. The other’s self-conditioning is shining, winking, striding, not simply pacing, or aimlessly meandering. Fierce determination, flexing strength which is no longer alien, I watch by softly, shallowly breathing, within our cocoon, residing.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay on Pexels.

    Previous Post: ‘Clear to See’ – 08/06/21

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  • Prose: A Visit – 13/05/21

    Prose: A Visit – 13/05/21

    The sky is pink, grey and blue today, wisps of cotton candy and woollen clouds. I watch as First Light dawns upon me, the day awakens, and I cherish it, awaiting more. What is this fluffy entity which now travels towards my face? This countenance and structure so lovely, perfection, in a way?

    It morphs slightly as it travels, altering size, shape, and form, one moment it’s obscure and barely recognisable, then the next, clearer and pure.

    I won’t say what I suspect these clouds have become, I feel it’s not my place to share, but I will acknowledge its sacredness, of this I have become more and most aware. A benevolent entity travelled unto me, blessing and guiding with his presence, and now my being is vibrant, I am invigorated, then suddenly well-spent.

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

    Previous Post: ‘A Trail of Winding Thoughts’ – 12/05/21

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  • Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Strident tones announced from the bell of a trumpet, 
    I’d smile but I won’t show it, 
    I thought this was the chance to recommence, 
    but now, it’ll all be past tense. 

    To progress from the murky muck, 
    a heart flitters nervously, 
    a gut’s contents begins to rot, 

    I thought I could do this, 
    I thought I was strong, 
    but it seems the better route is to go 
    where I am accepted and comfortable all along. 

    I am enough, 
    I am too much for some, 
    I am required to be elsewhere, thanks, 
    the calling here is not enough:
    a feeling of complete numb. 

    For the sake of myself,
    I need to take into account how I will fare 
    in the long run, 
    not only the short term, 
    I need to consider what will work best for me, 
    health-wise and happiness,
    the upsets I wish to curb. 

    And last night, I decided, 
    I decided, and a sense of relief washed over me, 
    the growing stress seemed all but gone,
    my mind, my mind is free.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

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  • Prose Poetry: Illuminate – 19/04/21

    Prose Poetry: Illuminate – 19/04/21

    Sometimes, there’s something magical in the air. You can feel it permeating your skin, your muscles, the tendrils of your hair. That electrifying feeling that courses through your very veins, warming you and making you feel loved, and reassuring you that everything, everything will be okay. 

    There is a time in the future when you will feel this, too. Don’t worry your heart about whether it will come, or if it won’t, when, how, or where, how far away, or soon. There is something amazing out there waiting for you, if you desire to take it by the hand: allow it, her, him, whomever, to walk with you, into the Great Unknown, and begin to slowly and freely breathe again. 

    Allow yourself to not be encumbered by the pains of yesterdays. Lift your head higher, let your heart pound with hope, dispel the dismay. And understand that there is a light at the end of everything dark, if we only allow ourselves to open up. There is a choice to be made, to bring forth illumination and joy, or remain in the shadows, though I know, sometimes, this isn’t a choice. In such cases, let others help and hold you up, take their embraces, their kind words, loving and such, because with support, we can make it through the pain and distress, life is for living, not suffering, and I’d hate for anyone to lose sight of what could begin again. Peace, light, love to you, and in your heart, begin in hope to trust.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

  • Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    Poem: Amends – 05/04/21

    It’s considered ludicrous, 
    as this pencil draws as pen, 
    impermanence detailing permanence, 
    can history make amends? 

    In truth, in part, 
    will hope, will fresh knowledge renew?
    In truth, in whole, 
    intentions grown strength to strength 
    and full. 

    But, unmanageable, so it seems? 
    By a world of common sense and 
    split former seams,
    will future tense stretch in excess, 
    parading that which should shriek with joy, not distress?

    I speak of stitches, 
    popped at their entry points, 
    I mention stitches, 
    now being repaired thrice by thrice. 

    I speak of strings ringing with vibrato, 
    these fingers are tremulous, 
    gently rolling, 
    creating that beautiful musical sense
    now and for all tomorrow’s calling.

    But is there enough enveloping scope, 
    in the melodies nightly hushed, 
    in the tunes gently told,
    because one could be argumentative 
    and find insipid flaws 
    in shattered rhapsodies already spoke.

    One must be patient, 
    and wonder not, or perhaps continue to dance, 
    it’s dangerous around certain fires, 
    but some flighty ladies love to linger and prance.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  
    Image by Kateřina Hartlová from Pixabay      

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  • Poem: Lavender and Violet: A Little Tale – 02/04/21

    Poem: Lavender and Violet: A Little Tale – 02/04/21

    Violet and Lavender were the greatest of friends. They rarely fought, never had to make amends. Their hearts were in the right places, they assumed not in their lives now, they understood how to avoid moral corruption and rot, their positive moods would mutually grow and ascend. Their smiles were often worn with a glowing halo or crown which one could not usually see, but only when one focussed with great intensity. It was easy to understand these two just knew how be. They understood that the way to live life was with both vigour and kindness, always avoiding potential strife, associating themselves with kindness and niceness. They were lovely beings, these two shades, and they knew, they understood, that life was for living, and moments should be made, that Life was for positivity, for good. There was no extracting one another from a situation, because each wave they rode, they rose with a certain sense of mutual adoration and completion, their hearts had tales which would be eternally told. 

    One day, there came a time where everything seemed rather strained; Lavender and Violet were at their wit’s end, and this argument seems like it could not be saved. They did not know what to do, but they were chewing at the bit, wondering, What happened to our friendship? Is this it, is this it? 

    It all came about because Lavender could not handle because kept at arm’s length by Violet, whom was secretly carrying shades of green and red in her aura, without any yellow as a habit. Her glow was shining, but in a way that slightly perturbed; it reflected her inner state, and the ways in which showed what she currently desired and what she deserved. It was disappointing, really, and upsetting to Lavender, because she wanted Violet present, around for much longer, but it seemed she were pulling away, wanting her own space, it seems, and for that, this and that, she had to allow the tearing at the seams. 

    One cannot make someone stay, but they can leave without any form of rudeness or harshness, one can ensure they leave the slate clean, without emotionally leaving a desire for repair or dissolving of distress. And the factors within Lavender and Violet’s saddening tale, it that they’ll likely never meet again, and this is part of it all, and that’s the long and the short of it, such a difference from here and then. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Chris Ensey on Unsplash

  • Poem: We, the Featherhead Spirits – 01/04/21

    Poem: We, the Featherhead Spirits – 01/04/21

    We, the Featherhead Spirits, have much to offer the world. We dream in whirligigs, and seashells, and bunches of perfect pink pearls. We clutch onto hope, and fizz, and brightness that comes with positive things, and our hearts are content, we love to rise and accept everything that have been delivered, the goodness which Life has sent and brings.

    We, the Featherhead Spirits, come in many shapes and forms. We understand that there is more to the world than can bear or beg to belong, but we accept there is a rhyme and reason to everything we’ve seen or heard. We extend our gratitude to the moon and stars, to the sun in its pure element, to the universe in its true intent, and we accept that there’s nothing less than love to be had when we open our willing arms for what is good and decent. 

    We, the Featherhead Spirits are blessed as can be, we absorb the charismatic tunes that have been thrown to them, to us, to me, and we, the Featherhead Spirits, our plumage so beautiful and rough, grant us deliverance from that which is required, it is enough, it is enough. 

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by McGill Library on Unsplash