Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: writing

  • Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Poem: The Girl in the Red Dress – 07/01/21

    Glaring, inquiring eyes
    inspecting through shopfront windows,
    what is it you seek?
    The girl in the crimson dress with white seams,
    is it she you are trying to find,
    do you desire her to speak?

    On edge,
    percolated by excess caffeine,
    anxiety rising,
    scenes perhaps more than what they seem,
    to her, everything seems suspicious,
    laden with layers of notions and commotions
    and terribly haunting dreams.

    Pressure is rising,
    shall there be a toast of prior predilections?
    Fight back the sleepiness of the morning,
    troupe around the neighbourhood,
    exercise and voices cheerily ringing?

    Stress, cortisol, tremors,
    won’t they be resolved?
    That feeling of edginess that screams
    so insipidity loud?

    Those pinpointed eyes as they pass within an
    expression of menace,
    the power of intimidation,
    she will acknowledge the look no more,
    to her, the forced inattention will make it less,
    she will not lock eyes with that stranger,
    there is not need for that physical test.


    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All right reserved.

    Photo from Unsplash

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  • Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Poem: Fields of Colour – 02/01/21

    Ink and colours swirl and fly,
    admirably they meld into the other,
    watch our joy multiply.
    There’s not a moment too soon
    when we can reach into the stars,
    colours, outlines, so fantastical,
    we can hardly believe them ours.

    I know that these hues and shades
    might not be here forever,
    but I appreciate and accept,
    allow them to provide my eyes pleasure
    and favour while I introspect,

    I know not their meanings to you,
    but to me they are plentiful,
    wholesome,
    vivid, true,
    here’s what I’ve planned,
    I know not what with the colours
    you plan to do.

    Be delicate with them,
    I chide but smile,
    wonder not,
    the colours will remain for a long while,
    the moment of truth is when
    decisions are made with great charms,
    wondering, and wandering,
    into fields of open arms.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image by Jeremy Thomas, Unsplash.

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  • Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Poem: Delicate – 01/01/21

    Perhaps some are meant to be
    apart for a while,
    to allow distance and the ability for
    truth to no longer be real.

    Imagination reigns without truth,
    what is that person seeing, feeling,
    what will they do,
    thoughts of them, I should really be
    immensely and measurably through.

    Delicate interventions,
    reaching out in a moment,
    wondering is no longer wondering
    because now there’s an
    ability to slightly see,

    Are there differences to be observed,
    are they selective,
    there to be heard?
    I know there are some changes,
    waiting to be discovered and learned.

    Brightened are they,
    with each moment they are heard,
    loneliness could have overwhelmed,
    must have caused great dismay,

    but I must tread delicately,
    not flit around too flashily or fancily,
    too much attention drawn could cause cracks to be seen and
    cause future suffering.

    (c) 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image from Unsplash.

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  • Poem: Letting It Go – 29/12/20

    Poem: Letting It Go – 29/12/20

    Let us ride the waves of misery
    but away, away from the blight,
    allow us to shine with the knowledge of
    that mystery,
    as we approach each other in the dead of night.

    And let us have that embrace
    which has been awaiting us for oh so many years,
    let me feel that heartbeat of yours
    and detract from all my old fears.

    Please let me wash away the hurt
    that I feel within my soul,
    let it rain, let it rain,
    and rinse away the suffering,
    let the pain fade away,
    delicately away,
    it shall dissipate,
    let it go.

    (c) 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: The Vision – 29/12/20

    Poem: The Vision – 29/12/20

    And the proof is in the vision,
    the truth is in the See,
    the horizon is there to be admired,
    by us, by you, by me.

    We have triumphed over that which
    causes us pain,
    let us relish the moments,
    the announcements,
    one and many the same.

    I think to myself often,
    what has become of them?
    I wonder to myself,
    where is their part in my rose’s stem?

    For the ability to have been supportive,
    to be there for me when I needed them most is,
    the proof is in the vision,
    my memories,
    they were there,
    perhaps as one in a million,
    they claimed to always care.

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

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  • Poem: Heat – 28/12/20

    Once in a while, you wonder just why.

    What ill had you performed to make the situation awry?

    What decision was undertaken to make someone feel slapped, or want to cry?

    Or want to cause a situation’s demise?

    Shall the rivers cease their running,

    Shall the seas calm their tides?

    And shall the oceans part wide

    Washed away of sin and less dry eyes?

    Shall we dance individually now,

    Never again to meet,

    No matter the circumstance,

    I don’t want to step back from the heat.

    (c) 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: Stitched – 28/12/20

    Poem: Stitched – 28/12/20

    Brightness, wholesome, warmth.
    Everything because.
    Everything near.
    Everything far.

    I mend and stitch and fail because
    that chasm need not fixing;
    it’s meant less darned,
    more gaping,
    it does not need my solving.

    This situation is no longer my responsibility,
    I listen carefully,
    hark at the words,
    knowing that allowing myself to fall
    by the wayside,
    is the decision best for me.

    It’s self-preservation,
    and protection of thoughts,
    and protection of that smarting feeling
    within my heart,

    the sadness, I will rise above
    and smile despite, because,
    I was a part of something,
    and now, no matter that I’m not,
    I’m still intact,
    and that’s a fact.

    (Early Nov. 2020)

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 

    Photo by Lisa Woakes on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Without Pressure – 26/12/20

    Poem: Without Pressure – 26/12/20

    There is no longer any pressure,
    self-produced,
    to create nor feel,
    no rushing to the chopping block
    where I must reveal my innards,
    to show something real.

    Instead, I can gently rest,
    not be concerned with
    the haste, my imposed rush,
    because it is time to take
    some time out for myself,
    I’ve been tired
    and don’t I know it.

    Constantly dragging things,
    items up from me
    is like fishing in the darkness,
    I know what’s there,
    there are secrets lurking
    but I don’t know entirely
    where, when, or what I will find.

    The funny thing is this is
    not even required of me –
    I’m the one pushing,
    to delve, so much so, that
    the word ‘I’ is irritating even me.

    Changes could be made
    but I’m stuck,
    hindered by this not so fail-safe practice,
    it’s not tried and true,
    and it’s tiring, true?
    I need to step back and
    alter my practice.

    Of course, confessionals
    have their place,
    I acknowledge a share
    has great potency,
    but not on and on and on
    and on and on,
    even I sometimes want
    to leave.

    So, I’ll torment no further,
    or at least I will try,
    to avoid ailing with my pen,
    words stabbing in ears and eyes,
    and relax,
    step back,
    and just take a breath,

    sometimes life is actually light-hearted,
    had I not thought about sharing and presenting that?

    (Early July 2020)

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Quang Nguyen vinh from Pixabay

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  • Poem: The Silence – 26/12/20

    Poem: The Silence – 26/12/20

    The crisp morning air enlivens my mood,
    there’s little need to be sulking,
    little need to brood.

    For this wondrous day has been created
    for me,
    not temporarily, but permanently,
    from an off mood,
    I must up and flee.

    Do not allow others to determine my
    state of mind,
    do not permit them to make me feel
    lesser than other members of humankind,

    know that I am wise and smart and true,
    and I will feel elevated in this moment,
    my heart won’t be affected —
    I won’t allow it to.

    Because the truth is,
    these people come and go,
    they flit in and out of one’s life,
    like bees would visiting where nectar grows,
    and the saddening moments will rise away
    into fluff,
    that’s more than enough,
    dearest,
    your silence is more than enough.

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

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  • Poem: Truly – 25/12/20

    Poem: Truly – 25/12/20

    Truly, oh truly, did she see?
    The signs pointing, dazzling her blinded eyes to see?
    Could she not spot the clues,
    could she not hear the tales?
    Forging ahead,
    believing everything:
    my friends,
    that ship has sailed.

    Braver and wiser
    has she become,
    more cynical and realistic,
    the measure of a person must be proven first,
    no more face value,
    blind trust,
    stupid naivety, gullibility,
    another’s private glee?

    Feel the guilt wash upon them,
    her courage shall avail,
    her spirit is free.

    (early December 2020)

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

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