Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry reading

Poem: The Din – Spoken Word and Text – 13/07/20

Poem: The Din – Spoken Word and Text – 13/07/20

Audio: The Din

Filter the rain from the mountaintops,
where acidic droplets beat down,
an acrid taste,
a burning sensation
of skin besieged by astringent vowels.
 
This was not intended,
though this was required,  
her purging,
pairs of eager, shiny boots
step forth,
 
the small crimson soldiers attack,
an internal awakening
as hearts and minds ache,
hers will visibly crack,
it’s not only her sufferings that stun,
it’s her experiences, too.
 
Their blood lust for her mind,
they wish to invade,
pillage,
and never give back,
these blood-stained soldiers, miniature beings,
worth nothing alone,
yet together,
they could save lives, if agreeable to this.
 
Yet they press forth,
through her skin they pierce,
there’s nothing to do with permission here,
her thoughts, they appropriate themselves at their will,
care and concern are remiss.
 
Staining upon her clothing,
staining upon her skin,
her purged catharsis,
unwittingly melded,
she flails,
she falls,
to their silent din.
 
The vibrations are enough
to cause her cacophony,
she will lay here until dawn rises,
quietly still,
until it's the morning.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by 3321704 from Pixabay

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Poem: Something Dear and Personal – Spoken Word and Text – 19/06/20

Poem: Something Dear and Personal – Spoken Word and Text – 19/06/20

“Something Dear and Personal” – Spoken by myself.

If something
deeply personal
is what you
want to read,
 
by all means
settle in,
grab hot cocoa,
or steaming cup 
of tea.
 
What can I share?
What will I reveal?
Grab desperately 
from my past?
 
Drag forth
contentious,
gossip-worthy,
or scintillating news?
 
Will I or won’t I?
That’s what you need to ask.
 
Is it really necessary,
am I required to 
put on a show?
 
A song and dance 
of history
of what I can recall,
detailing what you may 
want or need
to know?
 
Why, no. 
No, no.
 
There is no need for a show.
 
But if there were, 
would
it be:
 
Tumultuous,
bittersweet,
even provocative?
My goodness, no!
Please! 
I am all subtleties,

watch me as I respectfully curtsy,
a dainty pirouette and now
we’re back on topic,
will I let the revelations
flow with ease?
 
Because I can test
your patience by slowly,
painstakingly, 
dragging out
the rocks and pearls 
of the past,
 
but what would be 
the point?
It is better to 
look forward,
 
the Past’s ship
has sailed,
hoorah! 
To the future
we are delivered at last.
 
Stories of old
may have their place
in a certain context, 
but for me,
they rule no realm,
 
in my world,
they have no
victorious reign,
no power can the Past itself proclaim.
 
Moving forward,
I’m looking abroad,
no furtive glances behind.

Will you look at me?
I’ve advanced myself:
 
my goodness,
oh, Lord! 
No firm facts here delivered,
lips tightly sealed
protecting a personal, precious prize.

The past shall remain a closed book,
it's what I've realised and decided,
no need to ride those monstrous waves,
the future, 
to me, 
looks perfect.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

Image: by myself. 
Background music: Documentary Background Music by AShamaluevMusic: 
https://youtu.be/il9HGo4hPjI 
Creative Commons — Attribution 3.0 Unported— CC BY 3.0 
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/

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Poem: When She Comes Undone – Spoken Word and Text – 18/06/20

Poem: When She Comes Undone – Spoken Word and Text – 18/06/20

She’s had enough.
Life, with its cruel measures, 
she’s defeated,
broken,
dare say surpassed
feeling rough, 

her thoughts may not terrify,
but they will reveal
salted, open wounds.

What is the point
in detailing mediocre thoughts,
some things which,
in the moment,
seemed thoughtful,
and loving,
caring, or clever,

but of these qualities,
her thoughts are apparently not.

Instead she’s left
with a soupy rendition
of a mirroring of
words that seem to
fail to impress,
 
for herself, she cannot bear to even
re-read them,
unworthy they are to share.

Just a joke,
self-doubt overwhelms,
such a malignant disease
it is,

she wallows,
bitter in the circumstances,
she solemnly nurses her hot cup of tea.

The sponge,
its creative cells within her,
that assisted her cushioned absorption
of her many internal tunes
is now blackened
with thick sludge,
her ideas stagnant,
left to rot while they remain disused.

Who is she
to pull herself out
from this torture,
this slow drowning in
grudge, sludge and grime,
of phrases and turns which
really aren’t that bold?

Will she return to her true self 
with time?

She once believed herself
to be an enigma,
misterioso, a chameleon,
alter herself at will,

now she is just herself,
hollowed and despairing,
thoughts no longer
flitting amongst the trees,

rather she’s dragging herself
by her hands,
crawling painfully on
chaffed knees.

She guesses this is what
living means today,
on this day,
at least for her,

salted wounds,
depression,
its lingering gloom,
has long ago set in.    

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Jerzy Górecki from Pixabay 
Audio: Myself.

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[Satirical] Poem: “Smile!” – Audio and Text – 17/06/20

[Satirical] Poem: “Smile!” – Audio and Text – 17/06/20

“Smile!” they tell me,
“Cheer up, it’s not so bad.”
I smile sardonically,
retort facetiously,
wriggle an erect finger
from my hand.
 
I hate being told
what to do,
why can’t they
mind their own business?

Did I ask for their opinions
out of the blue?
Did they believe their words
would be cherished?
 
In the bar,
I attend to my clothing,
rearranging my hair,
my image,
the crowd jeers, “Princess!”
Like an indignant bird,
I fluff out my plumage.
 
I understand there
are times
when we must receive
instruction,
 
but when I’m being told
to smile or
have cheer
by complete strangers,
now that
is in its own rude stratosphere,
I need not their intervention.
 
Why some people think it’s appropriate
to use “Smile!” as an opening line
is beyond me,
cannot they formulate
a better approach
in their own time?
 
A resting b***h face
I must surely have,
that pouted or deadly bored expression,
 
I don’t mean to be
unapproachable though,
look further than my far off,
superficial expressions.
 
I could be the nicest person
you’ll ever meet,
but if you approach,
instructing me to “Smile!”
be prepared for a verbose fight.
 
What if I don’t want to smile?
But rather ruminate in that instance?
Understand this, Stranger,
your instruction does not
endear yourself to me,
in fact,
it is an irritation,
an offensive, belligerent bother.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
Music: "Sneaky Snitch" by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

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YouTube Poem Videos – Lauren M. Hancock Poetry