Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: stress

  • Prose Poetry: Elusive Sleep – 03/08/21

    Prose Poetry: Elusive Sleep – 03/08/21

    Sleep. How it escapes, evades my very fingertips. When I reach out, fingernails scrabbling, hoping for a hint of rest, my aching heavy lids are calling. I am in a state of unrest, my mind is anything but heightened, I need the numbness to wash over me, repair the intensity from the day prior. I need to rest, but, I cannot, I cannot will myself into a state of slumber. Sometimes I am stubborn and don’t wish for the darkened cover, for haven in darkness, dangling from consciousness’ precipice until the web is severed, and I’m beneath, in the lake of swimming nightmares with the rest of them.

    I do not need sleep, or does sleep need me? Preposterous, this claim, it does seem. The very fabric of my mind is wearing ragged and thin, existing in a state of stunned surprise when I force my eyes wide and brighten them to take my surroundings in. Taking in their fill. But unappreciative, as a slight, because I was told sight was not urgent, improvements were required but not yet, and so, I exist on a diet of blurred visions and occasionally barked words.  

    But Sleep, my antisocial friend, who only wants to attend for four hours or five, then sweep himself away, without a word to say, leaving me groggy, thirsty, and ill at ease in the dead of night, wishing for even an extra hour that he had stayed. Quality sleep never comes, in fact, so rarely does he attend that some cruel puppet master might as will be silently phasing out the timbre. Yellow, yellow, what a beautiful colour. Yellow conjures up such a cheery disposition, a shining timbre.

    Oh, how I need sleep, before I launch into emotions, feelings, about colour association, so replete!

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Megan te Boekhorst on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Poem: Freedom Heart – 22/04/21

    Strident tones announced from the bell of a trumpet, 
    I’d smile but I won’t show it, 
    I thought this was the chance to recommence, 
    but now, it’ll all be past tense. 

    To progress from the murky muck, 
    a heart flitters nervously, 
    a gut’s contents begins to rot, 

    I thought I could do this, 
    I thought I was strong, 
    but it seems the better route is to go 
    where I am accepted and comfortable all along. 

    I am enough, 
    I am too much for some, 
    I am required to be elsewhere, thanks, 
    the calling here is not enough:
    a feeling of complete numb. 

    For the sake of myself,
    I need to take into account how I will fare 
    in the long run, 
    not only the short term, 
    I need to consider what will work best for me, 
    health-wise and happiness,
    the upsets I wish to curb. 

    And last night, I decided, 
    I decided, and a sense of relief washed over me, 
    the growing stress seemed all but gone,
    my mind, my mind is free.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

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