Thursday, November 8, 2018

Tale of the Heart

When the world is full of life.
Feeling all the wonders there are.
Everything was pure and without strife.
Nothing could possibly become grey.

Making it by very much unscathed.
This heart beating inside.
It's been safeguarded by many.
Many walls hold all well away.

Floating around in this bubble.
Cocooned from the terrors beyond.
Beyond the walls that are there.
Nothing can break through the barrier.

Until one day - something does.
It rang through and true.
A beating heart to match it's own.
The unmistakable sound of brilliance.

Light made all the whiter.
Life made all the richer.
Love no longer confined behind.
Behind these walls heavily guarded.

Laughter filled the air around.
Happiness began to surround.
The hidden looks filled with nervousness.
This seemed like something much more.

More than the fairy-tales read.
More than imaginings inside ones head.
Much more than all that had been said.
One could not deny the truth.

Until the truth became uncovered.
Horror filled the heart that was bright.
The pangs of disbelief grew stronger.
Wracking this body raw.

This was more than sadness.
The weight of all that had been.
Hung heavy upon the shoulders.
Now sagged from caring so much.

Loneliness creeps in like a thief.
Stalking around with it's empty hands.
Feeding on the self-doubt and fear.
Haunted eyes stare ahead blankly.

The heaviness of the events gone by.
Lie broken and cold underneath.
As this body lays frozen inside.
Inside for not a soul to see.

The walls are slowly rebuilt with time.
For time moves on by despite it all.
Taking no notice to the pain.
Of those living on borrowed time.

All previous barriers have been fortified.
Made all the stronger than before.
Surely none can scale beyond these walls.
Of a heart that's long been broken.

Saturday, October 20, 2018

A New Day

Floating on the edge of consciousness.
Light filtered through lashes.
Unable to fully open.
To the buzzing of life that surrounds.

Luminescence fills every corner.
Telling of a new cycle of life.
All tears from what was before.
Have been left behind once more.

The serenity that fills the room.
Is a reflection of what's inside.
It's never been felt until now.
A time to reminisce is past.

The cares of what has been.
No longer hold any weight.
Here where life is renewed.
The present is the perfect gift.

Beauty is found in simplicity.
Stunning in it's intricacy.
It winds it's way through and through.
Until it's found it's place to stay.

Assurance of what could be.
Undertaking what will come.
Time is but a fickle friend.
Merely waiting for your determination.

Finding the strength from failure.
Takes on a larger task.
Making way for the strong-willed.
In this life ever changing.


 Copyright 2018 Lauren Hall ©

Sunday, July 15, 2018

The Cure

(So I found this poem among my drafts, didn't realize I had finished it and didn't publish it.)


Bound to silence with such.
Fighting all that's inside.
Struggling to find willpower.
To keep all well hidden.

If one should know.
Would surely be troublesome.
For not but one,
But many.

We lie in wait.
For what we do not know.
We laugh and cry.
For what they cannot show.

Trapped are we in this.
Drawn out in such state.
Fearing the possibility.
Of the coming of hate.

Surely the world will find.
A cure is sure to come.
To fight off this infection.
Rooted deep inside.

None can loose the deep.
The waters so encased.
Locked so deep inside.
I have never faced.

Found have they a cure.
For this rooted mess.
They tell me this.
There is but one test.

Struggling to the surface.
Fearing the sound of failure.
Fighting even stronger.
To win this cure.

Fight for life.
Fight for love.
Fight to win.
Fight for freedom.


Copyright 2018 Lauren Hall ©

Sunday, May 13, 2018

A letter to Mother

There's a moment in time where I stop.
Stop to think about the amazing things.
Those things that you did for me.
To make me into the person I am today.

There's isn't enough "I love you's".
Not enough to fully express myself.
To thank you for being there for me,
But here's another one just in case.

I love you for being my confidant.
I love you for listening when I needed it.
I love you for the silence when I need it.
I will always love you to the moon and back.

I know I don't always say it out loud.
I hope I at least express it through action.
There isn't a mother more deserving of that love.
Perhaps I'm just a little biased, because you're mine.

You're the mother who gave me knowledge.
You're the mother who gave me the drive to succeed.
You're the mother that helped me through everything.
Thank you for being my mother.

If there was a medal for mother the century.
I would give that award to you.
Again I am being slightly biased,
But anyone who says different, Well...

Thank you for being my support.
Thank you for being patient,
At least most of the time.
Thank you for laughing at that.

I may not always buy you flowers,
Because you feel they're a waste.
I hope you know I think about getting you them.
At least the thought counts for something.

This poem could go on and on.
About what an awesome mother you are.
Let me end it here and merely say.
I love you forever and always.


Copyright 2018 Lauren Hall ©

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

The Traveling Soul

A soul travels along an unknown path.
There are no markings to give notice.
Where this path might take them.
It's unknown to those who've been before.

Fog blurs the vision of what's ahead.
Giving only sight to right in front.
Don't extend your hand to see.
You might lose sight completely.

Walking at a tempered pace.
One would assume there's naught.
No rush to quicken the steps.
Taking them down this unseen path.

How long; they murmur to none.
Because not one can hear.
None can hear, because none are there.
There; where path leads to nowhere.

"Why do you travel, Traveler?
Is there meaning to your journey?"
The pebbles seem to say; in unison.
Yet the soul stays silent in turn.

"What is the purpose to your steps?
Why do you press on forever?"
The fog whispers quietly.
Yet the soul does not reply.

There seems no purpose to this quest.
The query has gone unanswered.
The steps seems aimless in their gait.
There seems no end in sight.

The path becomes more narrow.
As time stretches on: it seems,
As if by some mad design,
There's a test near to come.

"If you could but see ahead,
I'm sure you would be more wise."
Murmured the grass in hush.
"NO!", shouted the wandering soul.

Steps halted upon loosed pebbles.
Breath puffing out amidst heavy fog.
Grass silently swishing to and fro.
"I must not see." spoke the soul, hastily.

"I must not see further up the path.
I can only see what's in front of me.
Only harm will come from seeing,
Knowing what's further beyond."

The soul puts feet in motion again.
Taking to the silence now felt.
No whispers can be heard.
Though silenced, they will test again.


Copyright 2018 Lauren Hall ©


Monday, January 15, 2018

The Female Mind

To understand the female brain.
I've heard this said by many.
I find it rather humorous.
That one would want to dive beyond.

Beyond the intensity that is our mind.
Beyond the thoughts that make us, us.
Beyond what makes us who we are.
What's most hilarious, is this.

The thought that the female mind.
Is some complex math problem.
Needing a PhD to understand.
What any woman could translate.

Yes, I find this all a bit funny.
That one could assume this much.
That by knowing the female mind.
You have unlocked some great mystery.

I'm sorry to state the obvious.
Though I'm sure any woman could tell you.
The female mind is just this.
Nothing special or hard to understand.

Simply solving the problem that is our brain.
Will not help in understanding.
Every female is not the same.
We are not some cookie cutter form.

I cannot solve this great mystery for you.
Simply because, I am not every woman.
I am only me.
And she is only she.

Though we may seem emotional creatures.
We are stronger than some men.
In that we can endure extreme pain.
But love all the same.

Though we may break under pressure.
Like diamonds, we come back harder.
Through pain, hurt and despair we cry.
Our tears will eventually wash away.

Faced with fear, we tremble underneath.
What you see, is a stoic, brave mask.
Not letting those close know.
But forward we march instead.

We smile sometimes when we don't want to.
We laugh although we may hurt.
We move on, when we'd rather stay,
Curl up and cry for a long while.

I cannot speak for every lady.
Because I am only me.
Though similar we may all be.
A woman is more than her looks.

Scoffed by some for simply being.
What some would call "A Typical".
I will tell you this.
You should not judge, before you know.

We are the product of our experiences.
Much the same as you.
Just because I have a female mind.
Doesn't impair my general understanding.

I hope in this you've come away.
With something more than,
Understanding than before.
Even though I cannot speak for most.

 

Copyright 2018 Lauren Hall ©

Thursday, December 28, 2017

To Brave the Cold

Looking out a window at the snow covered ground,
I ponder if it's worth stepping outside today.
How I'd rather grab some coffee and a book,
Snuggle up next to the warm stove.

Responsibility overrules the stalling,
My feet comfortably toasty in slippers.
"Alright" I grumble to myself,
As I sigh dramatically to no one in particular.

I first grab the necessary layers needed,
Five layers to be exact, to risk the cold.
I stand there staring at the extra clothes,
"Why am I doing this?" I think, yet again.

"Right, responsibility" I mumble in halfheartedness.
I quickly put on the first layer, as teeth chatter.
The second layer seems a bit easier,
The third layer is a bit more stiff.

By the time I get the fourth layer on,
I start to understand the Tin Man a bit.
The inability to move my extremities,
I start to question the need for a fifth layer.

Never the less! I surely will need it,
Putting on five layers, the struggle is real.
I am now sweating and questioning my sanity,
Feeling the need to abandon ship, like; NOW!

Oh no, I forgot the hat, and the gloves,
How, am I going to get those on now?
Using yoga poses not yet done before,
As well as teeth and more grumbling.

I now look as if I'm ready for battle,
I dare say I could even stop a bullet.
Walking as though my joints have rusted,
I finally brave the outdoors.

My face feels the immediate burn,
Cold; how cruel you are.
Only fire should feel like burning,
Yet you bite and burn just the same.

As quickly as my body is able,
I do want needs done and tending.
Waddling like a penguin as I think,
"How much longer till spring?"


I make my way back inside to warmth,
Shedding each layer after layer.
They make a nice pile on the floor,
As I sip my coffee and read, ignoring the mess.

Cold; you are better seen than felt.
More beautiful outside, seen through glass.
You are a funny thing indeed,
I think my infatuation of you has finally faded.



Copyright 2017 Lauren Hall ©