Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: tired

  • Stream: Wiccan cries: Open letter – 30/12/21

    Stream: Wiccan cries: Open letter – 30/12/21

    Photo by Olya Kobruseva on Pexels.com

    sleep deprived I layer myself with ease
    carrying the threads of foxy foxy actions
    I smile and try to relax their knees
    they become weak.
    I do not know the true cause
    the truest heartbreak anthem
    which rides upon your throat
    but this is to the ones closest
    dear leaves, leaves from the scene
    exit stage left.

    slowly, slowly, deludedly, she unravels the past,
    deciphering not much at first, but then, at half mast,
    between the sleep, it all makes sense.
    she is enabled, she is untoward,
    she is unpopular but she is loved
    and that’s all that matters.

    the special ones will come, trust me on that.
    there are just different stages to be sent,
    to be scene, to be signed off, my darling,
    read my lips, I’m over the rorting, the commotions,
    the derelict ascensions,
    take down the falsehoods and live live live<
    roar, the cycles cry, the world of darkness flies
    she petters them away like undesired times,
    because, in her mind,

    she’d wiped them away, with regal style
    her heart wanders into her starry eyes,
    she’s all the way up toward the moon,
    the moon, is this all we can and will speak of,
    the wiccan cries, her witch-familiar sits upon his hind legs and smiles.
    smiles. She will stay within, stay home, just for a little while.

    Copyright 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: Seems As Though – 31/05/21

    Poem: Seems As Though – 31/05/21

    It seems as though my presence
    isn’t viewed as a present,
    but rather an unwanted hindrance –
    I’ll vacate the present premises.

    No longer take up space
    within the mind,
    I will walk away with zeal off to a space
    where my company’s wanted,
    with enjoyment and laughter
    again easy to find.

    It’s not difficult to feel
    the arisen tension melting away,
    when I can distance myself from
    the words and blame
    from another,
    it is their argument’s sake.

    Funny how repeat-offending
    goes by the book,
    when moral constructs broke,
    and rule-breaking occurred
    without a second look,

    Parade all the upsets which
    speak unto thy soul,
    but I won’t catch hold,
    carry the wind of it,
    now leaves —

    watch the wind wash,
    autumn hues
    drift and fall.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image by Leandro De Carvalho from Pixabay

    Previous Post: ‘Losing Grip, Gaining Momentum’ – 30/05/21

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  • Poem: The Roast – 23/12/19

    Poem: The Roast – 23/12/19

     The roast looks magnificent, 
 I can almost taste the glistening juice, 
 dripping down the sides as though 
 there is no other place for it 
 but before our hungering eyes. 
  
 I see you practically 
 salivating opposite me,
 between us the roast is 
 perched quite perfectly,
 
 a distraction,
 a piece of meat to catch your eyes,
 instead of falling upon me. 
  
 A wave of jealously: 
 how ridiculous! 
 How can I be upset that you’re 
 adoring a piece of cooked flesh?
  
 But it’s the intent behind 
 that stare that makes me
 pale behind the way you 
 usually look at me and assess.

 Perhaps I’ve grown too old a view —
 overfamiliarity can cause a rubbery chew.  
  
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
 also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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