Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: literature

  • Poem: The Cobra Attack – 25/04/20

    Poem: The Cobra Attack – 25/04/20

    Distortion fills my ears,
the drums,
the drums,
a cacophony
winds its way through,
auditory bombs.
 
I can feel the sound of livelihood
dripping from my ears,
these precious orifices,
here, there is so much to grin and bear.
 
Shell-shocked by the decibels,
I know that others enjoy their cause,
tainted sound waves,
an invisible cobra bites,
inserts everything an attack could possibly entail.
 
And now it wraps its way around my ankle,
my leg,
the constriction a welcome feeling as the venom
swims in my head,
 
the narrowed eyes,
the dutiful cause,
it’s attacked
and now the life it claims
is no longer mine –
would it willingly take yours?
 
Hallucinations swim before my eyes,
I’m held down,
down,
as though an unwilling sacrifice,
there now appears little tiny cobras
scattering toward me,
slivering collectively,
and I know my fate already,
outside my chest the frantic pounding rhythm
of my heartbeat grows.
 
They attack from all angles,
oh, the grief at knowing this may be the end,
suddenly a super, herculean
strength becomes of me
and I rise,
triumphant,
throwing and grabbing them off my body,
where they had suckled
and rested their vicious hungering heads.
 
I peel myself off the ground now,
escape is no longer difficult,
rushing into the wilderness,
away from the crazed cacophony
and altered visions
where I will hopefully find,
rediscover the safety of my herd.

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

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  • 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: Visible Romances – 04/01/20

    Poem: Visible Romances – 04/01/20

     it is intentional — 
 i can tell,
 that this male is intending to impress.
 clean cut, sharply dressed,
 he expects nothing less than perfection from his guest.
  
 as we watch on through glass houses 
 from which we will 
 never throw any stones,
 we smile to ourselves, we giggle, this will be amusing,
 to view their expedited love story unfold. 

 but, place yourself in the position of his guest,
 is she there wanting to be impressed?
 or has she positioned herself in this experience 
 for something else entirely?
  
 it is unclear from her gleaming white teeth and 
 brightened blue contact eyes,
 the bleached hair with just a 
 smattering of tell-tale roots grown in,
 whether she and he are their perfect match
 or whether this situation is generally a set-up lie. 
  
 we sit and guffaw as he leans in for his first kiss,
 after a mere five minutes of being on his single date,
 how she leans in with great interest and intent,
 to meet his lips,
 isn’t reality a great lark,
 an enjoyment as we watch others exist?
  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved.

 Image by tookapic from Pixabay

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