writer – Page 6 – Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Poem: Paper Cranes and Airplanes – 09/09/20

She sits there with paper at the ready
wondering what it is that should keep herself busy,
the beauty and wonder of creating
a paper crane
or a slick air-mobile to cut the air
so precisely.

The crane calls to her,
the idea of it makes her heart flutter with hope
what is about formations in paper that can provide another being
with the ability to broaden their emotional scope?

The airplane wants to be made,
to splice its way through the stars and clouds,
perhaps lean upon the luminous moon
not a man in the moon but a plane full of them
little figures of existence to be
positively at hand.

But she chooses the construction of the crane,
she knows that each fold will lean and paper attend
strength imbued
growing
courageous

paper dreams to be made for you.

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

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September 9, 2020

Poem: Lean Upon Myself – 08/09/20

For too long, I’ve leaned,
I’ve learned to rest my
weight on others,
for opinions, advice,
ears to hear,

I haven’t trusted my intuition,
it’s been absent,
muted, or hidden,
only my express interest
for support and confirmation
could be seen.

Fierce independence: nil,
where went that courageous
go-getter who would
present to the world, with utter thrill?

I need to alter my practices,
build myself as though a fortress,
strength internally and externally,
power to stand proud and true.

I understand to do so
is to step away from the
comfort of others,
build myself independently,
stronger,
and to know that in doing so
it may be difficult,

but in the end,
the benefits will outweigh
the monumental initial differences,
the discomfort in beginning
will pale in comparison to the future feelings
of growth and personal victory.

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

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Poem: The Queen Within my Heart – 07/09/20

The resident of my heart exists softly,
she doesn’t want to alarm or perturb,
she simply wants to be present,
there for the aching and the suffering,
to be able to offer some consoling,
some comfort
during times I’m self-annihilating.

I cannot help it;
sometimes I allow things to get to me,
people, events, expectations overwhelm me,
and this little vision in my chest,
with fairy wings and conjured sparkles,
brightened eyes,
she soothes me,
strokes my tender skin,
calms me each day she’s needed.

She does not ask for anything in return,
exists on mere air and my appreciation,
I am ever so thankful to have her around,
because, without her,
my soul might feel such internal damnation.

I am dramatic, I understand,
but without her there to guide with her gentle hand
I might feel lost and alone,
and angered by her apparent desertion
from my heart’s throne.

For she is queen within my beating chest,
she flits and rules quietly,
humble,
my fairy queen,
now here to counsel and guide me,
for the right choices,
the right feelings,
the right emotions,
her regulations,
her subtle rulings.

It is as though she’s visited and is remaining
only for me,
because she knows that I must require her
to remain,
she is my light,
she is my sparkle,
she consoles and aids and accompanies me.

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

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Poem: The Inner Swirl of Frustration – 07/09/20

Frustrations have been beckoning at my door.
The floating, negative energy swirls full in my belly,
it calls for something else to prey on,
catcalling, cruelly,
some more.

Am I not enough for its appetite?
Does this feeling need to engulf every part of me,
washing me, wading through me, the feeling that I have
never desired to seek?

But then, I take a step back.
I stop pursuing that which is causing me to feel… less,
useless, even though the feeling, causation, is unintended
at that.

I am feeling managed,
time-poor by choice, that behaviour does not suit me,
I cannot help how I’m feeling,
but it’s somewhat unappreciated.

There may be recoil from my words,
there may be consequences,
but I must speak my emotions,
let them loose,
I’m no longer crying them aloud,

I simply want an acknowledgement and changed behaviour,
that which shows a permanent change of tune.

Photo by Ryanniel Masucol on Pexels.com

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Poem: Perception – 06/08/20

Perception, my view of my world varies greatly.
Some days I will be bright and bubbly,
others, my nervous stomach cavernous, painful, empty.
My perception is like it’s being drawn across a dotted line,
where will the line stop?
Will visions of positivity or potent feelings be mine?
 
How I see things is not determined only by my internal workings,
rather, influenced by others and the way I react to their activities,
their feelings,
I do not dare sit here and blame,
I simply state and tell,
this is how my perception is swayed,
this I will reveal.
 
Of course, my inner cogs turn and gears grind
when reacting to something that upsets me,
affects my perception in my life,
but I cannot blame anyone for how I react or feel
simply because I should be able to control myself –
self-control, you know the drill.
 
And I wonder, how do others’ perceptions come about,
how are they constructed, do they remain constant
through an encounter,
level throughout?
I’m not sure, I’d have to speak of this with them,
what causes another person’s thoughts and
feelings to suddenly twist inside of them?
 
For some, it may be a riddle,
for others, I may have a slight internal view,
but if they fully alert me,
and I share my perceptions on that with them,
won’t we be all the more knowledgeable?  

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

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Poem: Power of Words – 05/08/20

You exist because you can,
you perpetuate your meaning because you will,
you know that to be is to cause problems
to those who wish upon you only ill.
 
Time is ticking for you, my dear,
there are many positive things which could be extracted,
but instead you realise only the darkness and poison,
you draw them out from you,
inept, you feel.
 
Some patterns are full of thrill,
and some patterns are hard to kill.
 
For the role you are undertaking,
it is one of change,
it is one of danger,
you intended to take a different path,
and now you’re mocked for this,
 
scorned for this,
in a dream, you are made to be the one
they laugh at,
because you are in your thirties and
changing your direction at last.
 
The mocking laughter pins into your flesh,
biting in the meat, causing prickles,
pain and suffering, no less,
and the direct gaze of their judgemental eyes
is wearing you down,
you simply wanted to move forward,
to leave behind what had long ago been sown.
 
And now you stay back to confront the culprit,
this is something you’d never have done,
to fight authority's bullets with verbal bullets of your own,
why, for this you deserve your own small throne.
 
And the irony is that when you do speak,
he rushes off,
pretending to do something
and never returns,
now here you have learned,
the power of words, my sweet darling,
the power within your words.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash

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Poem: Never Letting Go – 03/09/20

Darling, do I make you smile?
Darling, do I wipe away trials?
And darling, do you – rest assured – realise
that you possess my bloodied heart entirely,
no pieces left for you to view or meld?

I’ve reached within and grabbed it,
quick as can be,
my heart pulsating, living,
it’s grotesque,
nothing like the picturesque scenes you’ve seen,
 
but I am enthralled with
the delicate nature of my soft organ,
it causes you to smile,
and wouldn’t you know this?
I am here and living and still you clutch me,
so exactly, so evenly, so well.
 
Unlike others, who will let me go,
you fiercely grasp with a fervour I’ve never known,
the stability I’ve long sought,
the ability to live without being concerned,
my future is not in tatters,
in fact, it’s flourishing,
along with the blooms of many others.
 
Someone once claimed to know to what I
wanted in life with them,
I never knew their/our answer
because I interjected with my own,
and I am certain that our answers would not have matched,
there would have been much to cancel and fix,
not complicated,
just looking for someone who understood each breath and word
that I'd breathe alone.

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

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Poem: A Blessed Outing – 03/09/20

The sun is shining on my face,
it’s glary but I don’t mind.
It’s nice to be outside of the house,
away from the fortress that’s kept me safe
over time.

I have ventured out for specifics,
I am here after the fact,
being here is not especially dangerous,
I’m simply sitting here in the car,
waiting for her return,
and it’s nice to be outside
of the house that we call home,
temporary freedom,
this is a blessed fact.

I watch people leave their cars tentatively,
head towards the supermarket doors,
I watch others wheel their trolleys to the cars triumphantly,
as if this is their one day out amongst many.

And here she is,
carrying a bag of goodies
and two punnets of treats,
she’s had her outing, too,
and for the chance for independence I can tell she’s pleased,
after being specifically cooped up for her safety,
there are more facts to this story that I won’t 
allow to be gleaned,

we have relished these minutes outside
and aren’t we so grateful,
these times have changed how the world and 
experiences are felt, and seen.

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

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Poem: Languishing – 02/09/20

I tell myself
that everything will be okay,
but I languish in bed for hours.
I lie here, my consciousness aching away,
my stomach anxious as I wonder
not what the distant future will bring,
but the next minute, next seconds, next hours.

I do not know how to deal with this despair,
I practiced positivity these last days without a care,
but what’s settling in is this irrevocable gloom,
of unknowing, what will come,
or whether things will change at all soon.

It’s like looking up the steepest hill,
some would think, “Keep going” and keep aiming for the summit,
but I, I am exhausted,
and I’ve barely performed any exertion,
but mentally,
inside, it’s a circus.

These times are trying for many,
and I know this,
I’m not selfish for how I’m feeling,
and I understand that others are suffering,
perhaps I could reach out a hand,
then I remember we’re discouraged from this,
I must keep my distance,
but wait,
I’m already doing this.

These four walls which once seemed like luxury,
a newly-developed introvert’s home
are caving in on me,
I want to disappear,
but then it seems from the outside world
I’ve already achieved this.

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

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Poem: Stutter – 02/09/20

I stutter out what I want from you,
my anger causes me to shake,
I’ve never been this rowdy before,
my confidence piques -
before I know it, I’ll inadvertently break.
 
What is it about you
and this situation that causes me to uncontrollably squirm?
I can only tell you partial truths of the circumstance,
I cannot allow you to wholly learn.
 
For the truth is more than simplicity,
more than duplicity,
more than duality,
more than contextualisation.
 
To put it simply, I must breathe out
every single speckle of you
because I cannot have the world learn
that you’ve taken over me,
truth be told,
no more,
never,
not again,
the chance of this happening again?
None.
 
The sound of a lonesome wren.  

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

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