Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: tongue in cheek

  • Poem: ‘Coffee-less’ – 04/07/20

    Poem: ‘Coffee-less’ – 04/07/20

    Have you ever been so crabby because
you’ve been without your coffee?
Don’t deny it,
I know you know what I’m talking about.
 
Nothing will do as a substitute,
the black tea,
holistic herbal concoctions,
coffee, coffee,
the strong caffeine hit,
 
it’s what I am needing,
it’s what my soul hounds for, 
this substance I am seeking,
desperately begging for.
 
Don’t tell me that I’m petty,
that I’m a pseudo-addict,
I need this to function properly,
can’t you hear my futile cries,
cannot you view my need?
 
I know there are others just like me,
put your hands up,
express your empathy,
 
let us join together
and perhaps you can
provide me a large pot
of steaming liquid so dark.
 
I’ll mix in creamer and sugar
with such flamboyance,
my heart full of splendour,
the first sip is what I’ve been dreaming of,
that which my heart has been
aching to be delivered.
 
And this sip finally rolls onto my tongue,
scalding my taste buds,
running down my throat,
such a welcome sensation:
I love coffee the most.
 
I survive on it,
I thrive off it,
it doesn’t wire me anymore,
it’s pure functionality,
I need it to be,
please allow me to push aside
your humble cup of tea.
 
And now my kitchen is stocked up,
beans, grind and instant, 
whichever mood I’ll be in,
and with wonder and amazement
I’ll take in this spectacular substance,
 
and survive all day long
with a smile across my dial,
I must drink and drink and drink,
to satisfy my high tolerance.

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

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  • Poem: Hit and Miss – 30/06/20

    Poem: Hit and Miss – 30/06/20

    Sorry about that! I say,
and scoot out of the way.
I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.
 
Sometimes my ideas carry offense,
fall flat on their face,
when will I learn to discern?
 
It’s okay, you reassure, there’s no harm in experimenting,
but sometimes what you think is entertaining
is just damned wrong and overwhelming.
 
I agree, I return, I’ll tell you the truth,
I try really hard to gain favour from you.
 
I know, we know, we empathise with your plight,
better to write something, and not post it,
instead, sleep on it for the night.
 
Then awake with fresh eyes,
a fresh mind,
and then you’ll be ready to say:
rubbish bin or approved pile??
Your post has been published:
waa-hey!

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

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  • Poem: The Computer Helps You Lie – 30/06/20

    Poem: The Computer Helps You Lie – 30/06/20

    The computer helps you lie,
it’s a well-known fact of life,
the ability to dance fingertips
on keys like the Devil’s never-ending trill.
 
They fly across,
a flurry,
and suddenly, without me knowing,
fiction has taken over,
that’s welcome news to me.
 
No more disguising of one’s facts,
like bullets shot impolitely,
rat-a-tat-tat,
into the abdomen of a reader,
they no longer feel my hurt,
 
because fiction can prove softer,
than truth over fact,
the computer helps me lie,
creates a differing life.
 
A world where I can tell porkies,
they’re welcome little tales,
embraced they are
by pin-pricked ears,
lulled into a sense of quiet interest 
that ebbs and flows and swells.
 
And what say you to my actual truths?
can I reveal them, too?
Sometimes it’s better to live fictitiously,
it’s safer here for you.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay

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  • Poem: A Sleepless Night – 29/06/20

    Poem: A Sleepless Night – 29/06/20

    Exhausted,
I roll into bed,
does it roll back into me?
That’s a question for myself,
do you think it does so tenderly?
 
The doona now wraps himself around me,
presumptuous, he takes up over half the bed,
it does not matter there’s nobody laying next to me,
that space is for me to sprawl,
not for Doona to spread!
 
Electric Blanket quietly sizzles to himself,
cackling softly as he overheats and overwhelms me,
in the midst of my sweaty nightmare
that is of my imagination’s frightening making,
and the heat which he throws from beneath me.
 
My socks want to escape, one is flowing from my ankle,
the other is barely held by Big Toe,
I scramble with opposing feet to Save the Socks
from becoming redundant -
oh wait, they already are.
 
Doona has been thrown down,
useless upon the ground,
Electric Blanket is irritated his heat is no longer caressed,
What about me?
I am freezing!
There’s no point doing anything but
shuddering and trembling,
sockless, without a blanket,
it’s below zero degrees in Melbourne tonight!

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Pablo Elices 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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