Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: horror

  • 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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  • The Sliver: A Horror Poem – 11/04/20

    The Sliver: A Horror Poem – 11/04/20

    The translucence of an eye is insidious,
it narrows its eyelid to a sliver of pupil to see,
a glint of curiosity
but little remorse to view,
what could this vision present to someone like you and I?
Us, or even just you?
 
Barbaric tones,
the slashes, the slights,
the light burrows into my own orbs,
quietly, calculatingly I take on the mood
of the insidious view I’ve knowingly absorbed.
 
Unbeknownst to myself though,
from now, I am expected to travel alone,
this living, breathing eye has snatched me away from you.
 
Now I work in tandem,
my eyes with It,
alone, I am,
yet breathing its painful sooty sin,
can I not escape,
with peril can I be freed?

A combatant’s energy:
I stare into its glare,
its memories are horrific to experience and even worse to see.
 
Free me from its peril!
I want to shriek.
The maladies I’ve experienced through its blatant enormity
weigh down upon me,
they dare me to speak.
 
But, how to escape horrors so convoluted they make us entwined,
where are you when I need You?
I cry posthumously.
I live only through the Sliver’s memories,
stifling, the visions stew.
 
And it is as though we are living a dragging nightmare,
undulating waves of nauseating misery swim through
the void of energy that once carried and housed me,
I can barely breathe,
but isn’t that the point of it all?
There’s nothing left to see.    

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Evren Ozdemir from Pixabay

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