Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: darkness

  • poem: darkness entwined – 20/04/22

    poem: darkness entwined – 20/04/22

    I can’t be bright, I can’t be calm, I want to write darkness into their arms, the lovers’ capacity are shadowed in depth, their fates, true strengths will be met. In the witching hour their magic’s so bright, Moon sprays light into their night and the raven caws deep rumble, sharp, hard, one would never know if the moon threw or broke the bewitching stars.

    The lovers entwine in depths of night now, needing solace in their minds filled with sadness and sorrow, are they caressing the wrong one, tales wrought, takes to be undone, and powerful are whispers under breath, grails to be found or hopefully won.

    (c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Image from Pixabay.

  • micropoetry: process – 01/04/22

    micropoetry: process – 01/04/22

    speaking a language, in tongues befitting a
    dark dagger-like crown,
    with a purity hidden deep within auric angelite
    surrounding anaemic complexions with
    truths damned-well-tolds,
    a peeking into the gloom of their dastardly hidden rooms,
    roam, oh how I will roam in lairs of darkness,
    invitations extending to no luminescent process,
    luminal passageways to their hearts,
    navigation with most careful of prowess.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

  • Poem: Shade – 07/08/21

    Poem: Shade – 07/08/21

    Light and shade,
    I sweep the curtains shut,
    keeping creeping moody blues
    in mind,
    seems they’ll never stop.

    Heaving and breathing,
    huffing and a-puffing,
    affected am I this night,
    heathens nesting in the room
    from dawn until morning light.

    Struggles to create
    in a manner bright and saved,
    annoyances in the gutter,
    when will my thoughts be tamed?
    For I am ailing, but to some,
    no matter, I’m the one
    who should troupe on regardless
    of what I’m lacking in
    my personal power.

    I loathe, I hate,
    this weakness in myself,
    the inability to say no,
    wanting to please,
    keep their flashy smiles
    in a row,
    whilst I, I sit here in pain,
    distended dreams,
    dreamt in vain,
    upon the moody windowpane,
    trickles of falsified tears,
    rain trails there to be admired,
    cleansed pathways reverse-inked
    in droves.

    Light and shade calls forth
    but all that seems present
    is shade and shadows thrown,
    there is no sunrise rising,
    no beauty in my morning,
    I mourn for things which I yearned for,
    calling,
    yowling presence causes progress
    to begin stalling.

    The bracken in this bonfire
    lit by a little match,
    how small a thought can then
    become an inferno,
    developing into disgust in myself
    as of late,

    what happened to living my
    best life,
    I’m exhausted to the point
    I cannot breathe…
    stifling this shallow breath,
    for recycled air,
    I begin to heave and heave.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Rafael Leão on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Distance – 06/08/21

    Previous Post: Open Arms – 05/08/21

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  • Poem: Whispers – 24/06/21

    Poem: Whispers – 24/06/21

    The whispers that never end,
    quiet murmuring in the wind,
    heavy on circumstance and
    light on dividends,
    powerful words hissed
    just because the
    winter’s breath felt it right,
    due course, of course,
    syllables travel while wounding,
    into dimensional depth of night.

    Carry on, unknown figure,
    hell-raised being
    who creeps and crawls
    while I, unknowing of
    vile longing,
    soak in your visceral
    and vocal offerings.

    To your amazement,
    I enjoy the process,
    for I know not of paths of destiny
    which can be reversed.
    Clear up, Destiny,
    re-direct Fate.
    Do not succumb to deeply-laced hate.

    I wonder to myself what happens
    when meeting
    an archetype of sorts,
    a pendulum swings,
    my thought process it
    threatens to break,

    the song that does not end,
    reverberating inwards
    and out towards my
    ecstatic skin,
    goosebumps aroused into
    a state of flighty knowing,
    excitement as danger courses
    the situation;
    I become all-knowing.

    I must learn of the circumstance,
    its truest form,
    before I move on from the
    pleasure of the
    unknown,
    the uncertain,
    anything other than the darkened norm.

    A love, a love, seemingly so forlorn,
    I reach,
    let me experience
    your turmoil,
    inner hurricane,
    my headiness,
    your storm.

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

    Previous Post: ‘Angelic Conversations’ – 24/06/21

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  • Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    Prose: For Whom the Bell Tolls – 28/05/21

    In the darkness, I hear a groan. A guttural cry then, of sorts, rises from the gloom. Startled, I jump, not knowing which way to reach or turn, how to, can I even assist? From the past, when will I learn?

    A being is sprawled upon the uneven ground, I only perceive their form after my eyes adjust to the darkness, now revealed as subtle monochromes. With an outstretched arm, the being drags themselves forward, one hand pulls, then the other, and I can’t tell if male or female without difficulty. All that matters is that they are in obvious distress, how can I enable their comfort? How can I make their internal pain less? With a shriek, they shudder, a prolonged fit, then, no movement for an age, as though in some form of forced coma, then eyes wide open – they’ve come to! And their expression, sheer horror, why I’m the one who now shudders.

    A supernatural state clouds their eyes, and a dreamy smile purses their lips – who possesses their spirit? It’s difficult for me to decide. But I am fearful of this figure who shrieks and wails, for they seem unnatural, not of this world, something awry has dragged their spirit or soul through a type of anguishing hell. It seems beyond me to assist, I do not know how to clear their internal pain, in vain, in vain, I feel helpless, tell myself I must walk away. They seem beyond repairing; somehow they must do it on their own, I am not strong enough. Surely for another saviour they must call, I hope for them, the bell shall not toll.

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

    Previous Post: ‘A Foretelling Sense of Importance’ – 27/05/21

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  • Poem: A Nightmare – 26/01/20

    Poem: A Nightmare – 26/01/20

    In the darkness, I can feel the heaving,
the staggered breath of something unearthly,
with rounded edges that pulsate eerily upon my fingertips,
da doom, da doom.

I envelope myself around this living catastrophe,
it’s begging to be tamed,
assumed,
taken over,
approached with the lushness of virginal buds of spring,
I can carry us under, and over,
and away.
 
Who explicitly states we must be separate — fools!
No allowance to be entwined together until the light of day?
Ne’er will their permission
come,
be saved,
in the trying periods when mess gets in our way,
shoved aside,
then hands and feet we crawl,
dragging through the thick soupy darkness,
only to again meet this being,
Thing,
it seethes at me,
I simply cannot allow myself to take it in.
 
There are too many possibilities to trial, you see,
too much future aggravation at stake.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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