Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: March 2020

  • Poem: Free Falling – 02/03/20

    Poem: Free Falling – 02/03/20

    Out of the window
where my tears fall, fall, fall,
rich and ravenous am I for the salt 
which is encompassed by all.
 
They sting my eyes, 
this liquid drawn from the depths of my despair,
the lingering victimisation of my soul,
I don’t want to become air.
 
I feel real, more alive
when the salt water of my form stings me,
it ails my orbs,
a pair once so bitter and jaded in their viewing
of a world where I’d come undone.
 
There appears nothing worth saving,
a tumultuous wind untamed,
randomised about my body,
my crazed hair,
that my face is seemingly effaced,
there is no longer anything there.
 
Perhaps the salted tears are corrosive,
they are acidic, perchance,
I linger on the thought too long,
it seems preposterous,
and I chide myself for knowing that what I am assuming
is incorrect.
 
I’m in but a daydream,
a nightmare,
a living fantasy?
 
If only I wished to no longer breathe, 
I’d take this nightmare with me,
allow it to launch off a precipice
and grow and bloat and steal
every living atom from me.
 
But then here’s the catch,
I’d have to disappear willingly,
and there is no chance of that, is there?
I can’t allow some people their dreams.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Karen Smits from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Cherished – 01/03/20

    Poem: Cherished – 01/03/20

    Who do you love, my dearest,
who is it you cherish?
Who is it that makes your skin tingle,
your veins pump wildly?
 
Who is it who feeds your desire,
causes you to grow lighter while your heart palpates,
big and small?
Enormous and bolder,
your simmering feelings,
the bubbling brewing of emotions
in the depths below.
 
These, they are your lovers,
who wait hand and foot and heart upon you,
and their minds,
their minds, darlings,
are plain to see,
they have dedicated themselves to you.
 
There is a light within their soul that trickles forth
for you to wrangle,
grasp,
capture and take hold,
the evocation of determination they have captured
for you,
is to ensure that they are eternally by your side.
 
Even in the ethereal you have love and loved ones
so cherished,
spoken or unspoken,
they like to accompany you,
even with you being unknowing.
 
But your love,
your adoration here on Earth,
they are here,
willing and waiting,
understanding that your heart
has been made heavy enough.
 
Thus, they travel alongside,
hand upon shoulder,
fingers laced in yours,
know that in life they will never leave you,
and not even in death shall some depart.
 
Their path is alongside you now,
they are precious,
they are wholesome in their intent,
to see you successful and happy,
is their goal,
and it is something irrevocably well spent.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Tú Anh from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Little Purple Soldiers – 01/03/20

    Poem: Little Purple Soldiers – 01/03/20

    I am astounded,
heart beating wildly,
with adrenaline surging freely,
a source of income for the bravery,
a tipping palette,
the grapes scatter, you see.
 
Fruit befitting an emperor
yet here before little old me,
I am in a quandary –
what should I do with these little soldiers before me?
 
They’re glowing purple,
why, what an amazing sort to take on,
I pick one up,
taste it,
amazed,
astounded by the lusciousness,
I take another one.
 
Will my emperor mind?
How will he react knowing his shiny soldiers
are under attack?
Intrigued he might be,
that I’m saving them in my very own ceramic bowl,
perhaps I’ll claim they are for him.
 
For, this is not a battle,
this is the opposite:
a rescue, their salvation!
If it were not for me,
who knows where they would be,
scattering themselves before another,
evil, deducing,
she or he?
 
No, I am their saviour,
and now look,
my emperor enters the humid room,
where his purple glowing soldiers await him
for his taste buds and his desire.
 
The look upon his face is priceless,
anything but callous,
in fact, gracious and full of kindness,
with such gentility he plucks the closest from
a group of three,
the third of the triplet
he sucks and chews with ease.   
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay

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