Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Month: October 2019

  • Prose Poetry: Movement – 24/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Movement – 24/10/19

    Movement swirling about my mind, looking for little chasms to rest. To parade and fly can be dandy, but growing opportunities and situations present as a test. The gaps in the countryside are special to explore as they can be, but the Wind begs to rest himself; he has travelled too far, and with lessening ease.

    Free the hurricanes, the gusting winds, allow the movements to fly with no delicateness, please! Let them gust and blow, until tomorrow or future morrows, where they shall land and hide is anyone’s guess. Little hurricanes now circle little chasms, and aren’t they so beautiful to witness. A delicate mess, if you will. The Wind lays down his weary head, feeling utterly blessed.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.  


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  • Prose Poetry: Hospital Girl – 23/10/10

    Prose Poetry: Hospital Girl – 23/10/10

    To look at her, you’d think she was cautious, tentative, wary. Scrutinising you with eyes that have seen much more than others could dare to dream. Her being which had walked through many paths, some twisted and gnarled, others delicate and soft, but generally most with a visible barb.

    Her mind, having been through so much, broken down, split and medicated, behaviour watched by those in authority as though circling hawks, observing in a manner that noted every hour how she was travelling, her mindset and behaviour positive, light, or becoming worsened, so dark, increased internal suffering.

    Oftentimes she was out of control, this was why she was there, in that world she couldn’t leave without being signed out of, couldn’t easily visit her comforting home. Where ‘Leave’ was something dreamed of, yearned for, an hour or two here or there to spend in her warm loving environment, then dismayed she’d be returned to the unit with the rest of the others, who themselves were suffering from differing mental health matters and in differing manners.

    So, while she observes you observing her, she is reminded of the way in which she was observed carefully, with eyes roaming around the ward, or from the nurses’ Fishbowl. Where they could hide somewhat, from behind the glass, watching her as she went about her daily business, her feigned sense of existence, trying to get better as fast as she could.

    Socialising with the other patients could only hold her attention for so long, before she became desperate to leave the ward, she just wanted to go home. How she was there for many weeks, sometimes months at times, she couldn’t bear to drag herself from the squeaky hospital bed, she wanted to hide, despair, just be discharged, she didn’t belong there.  

    And then came the admissions when each second morning she’d be wheeled out, in her hospital bed through the main ward, sent on a trip upstairs to visit a specific doctor, for a buzzing and a convulsing, in an attempt to make her mind whole and somewhat better. It was because the medication wasn’t working. It was a last-option intervention, medically speaking.

    And while she became better with time, in the sense of being able to function in society, there were always times when her mental health became worse, and back into the hospital she would be, that familiar unwanted scene. Stability for her only lasted a year or two, and she was never truly living, because she was forever too close to the edge. Of shallow goals and dreams, she would be constantly dreaming. Reaching out for these caused her health to decline rapidly.

    But these recollections matter not now, because she is no longer Hospital Girl, she is the one who has succeeded at her true life’s dreams, written in her school yearbook as a little girl. As a twelve-year-old dreamer, she had written of her desires, and here she was, having achieved those two goals that she had wanted her life to deliver.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: Set in Stone – 22/10/19

    Poem: Set in Stone – 22/10/19

     I giggle and I squeeze, 
     I hold your hand with ease, 
     Impeccable our love is
     Amazingly high I feel I’m flying – 
     I’m free. 
      
     Like a bird of prey, I descended upon you
     I wanted you all for my own,
     I danced around the circumstances, the fact,
     That I was still unwell when discharged to home. 
      
     I spoke of colours I saw,
     Protection spells cast in my mind’s eye,
     You became upset with me,
     Because, you wanted me to live in reality, 
     This formal stringent style where I did not wish to be. 
      
     And so I refused, 
     I pulled away, 
     And like a stubborn sprite I continued to dance,
     Because I am blessed with you as my circumstance 
     And our connection would be built to last. 
      
     It simply took time, 
     For me to know,
     That you would strictly, wholly,
     Be mine. 
      
     Together, our fates sealed, 
     Our story daily set in stone.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: Running From Dusk Until Dawn: Stuck in a Year I Was Never Meant to Own – 21/10/19

    Poem: Running From Dusk Until Dawn: Stuck in a Year I Was Never Meant to Own – 21/10/19

     From dusk to dawn I thought of you,
     Obsessed, my mind ran through moments lacking your truths.
     Where passions were high and my fingers danced their little tunes,
     I begged, beseeched for you to listen 
     To my heart
     My beating
     For you so true.
      
     I yearned for your presence
     But you would not allow me this
     I rarely saw you
     Yet my words I sent them
     Stronger, becoming desperate,
     My emotions to you were amiss
     Yet when I thought of you
     All I could recall was a misting bliss. 
      
     What could I say to make you turn my way?
     To gather your feelings in a heartfelt kind of manner
     That would make you want to visit my world
     And here remain?
      
     I should have wished for something more
     Because with you there was soon a forceful need
     To escape
     To run
     Or at least
     Refrain,
     Falling in love was a misdeed.

     © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.  
     
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  • Prose Poetry: Daffodil – 20/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Daffodil – 20/10/19

    The daffodil is strangely beautiful in its brightened yellow garb. In his coloured outfit of delight, he makes observers sing and sigh with breathy appreciation and flowing rivers of love.

    He is modest, this daffodil, he does not ask to be seen for what he is not, he is not showy or greedy for eyes, he accepts what is given, where our eyes are cast.

    But we cannot stare at anything other than him, his joyous melody of lightness seemingly singing, singing, through our innate senses of melodious being.

    He also represents awareness, a sign of a reminder, but here he is simply here, present, and we appreciate his wonder. All the while though, there is a knowing that his sincere purpose is to make others show that we understand, we are aware, of his meaning we truly care.

    His beauty can be deceptive, but he is now blossomed, into full bloom, like the brightened message he represents, we can take this flower with us, from hushed room to comforting room.

    This daffodil is magic, and he is perfectly pleased with being part of a message, raising eyes, awareness and acknowledging the brave hearts whom the blossom is trying to help save with his blessings.  

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: Adorn Thy Clause: An Acerbic Recollection of 2015 – 20/10/19

    Poem: Adorn Thy Clause: An Acerbic Recollection of 2015 – 20/10/19

     ‘Adorn thy clause, irreverently yours’, 
     You once held my yearning heart for ransom. 
      
     I spoke the loving words you never spoke,
     As my heart held open doors, 
     Now they’re firmly closed,
    No in-and-out fairies a-prancing. 
      
     Many times, I proclaimed my ardour for you 
     With brightened smiles and flowery poetry,
     But the wool was pulled over my eyes, 
     And now it’s time to share the story.  
      
     Had you not made me walk your path
     Where I experienced your sheer manipulation
     And audacity
      
     I might have never found my true love and known
     How I deserved to be treated by another,
     Decently, respectfully, properly.

     The juxtaposition between my present love
     And your lying proclamations was a comparative
     Level of suffering. 

    You should not have been allowed to
    Remain in my life for that long
    The fact you had is strangely amazing.
      
     Oh, call the lyrebirds, 
     And the peacocks with their brightened plumes!
     That evening when we first properly spent time together,
     We had our first emotional encounter in that starched white room. 
      
     But as likely with all your romances, 
     You caused this to become pear shaped,
     You blasted away any sense of responsibility
     You took my hard work, honour, and generosity
     For granted each and every day.
      
     Your behaviour should have been wiped away. 
      
     I didn’t need something or someone like this in my life,
     I’m actually glad that you pulled yourself away, 
     Excised me from my strife,
     For I had better things to write of, feel and say,
     I was worthy of the then-unwanted freedom you cast my way. 
      
     And for months I was required to heal, 
     My mental health wrecked and ravaged,
     I speak for myself, as I speak for all, 
     We are not all left that damaged. 
      
     So, I adorn my clause,
     To you I present not even as irreverently yours, 
     Not even sincere in the slightest. 
     But because of you, and how you make me felt, 
     Like dirt smooshed into the ground, 
     I realise and know that I deserve behaviour 
     Only of the finest merit.

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Story: Wide-Eyed Elven Pixie – 20/10/19

    Story: Wide-Eyed Elven Pixie – 20/10/19

    There was once a wide-eyed elven pixie. Let’s call her Hannah. Beneath the surface of something great, there lurked Hannah’s terror. Because underneath the façade of her perfectly manicured life, in the forest there dwelled something – a horror! – that would and could cause her much strife.

    Hannah was an unlikely host to this being which attached itself to the one it fancied the most. This creature was shudder-inducing, this creature caused others to weep and wail, because this creature was abhorrently unpleasant and stank to high hell.

    Upon Hannah’s back this creature was firmly attached, sucking, sucking the life from her. Because like a leech it drank from its victims, feeding more and more, this was the creature’s system.

    The creature, Norbert, was a cruel thing to behold; he only thought of himself and how he could benefit from another’s pain and suffering twofold. He was selfish, uncaring, and manipulative as he rode on his host’s backs, and Hannah was suffering greatly from his presence, I cannot say anything less than that.

    Oh, how she tried to remove Norbert, with a thick stick to poke and slide against his gooey form. Oh, how she grabbed at the awkward place he was situated, and tried to pull him off her aching back. And oh, how she managed to shift him just a little, with a shriek and a squeal Norbert know his days were likely limited.

    Then Hannah had a wondrous idea! She leaned against a rough tree trunk. Holding the wood either side, hands behind her hips, she grated her vile pest against the surface’s bumps.

    “Nooooooo!” Norbert wailed as he came away in pieces, like the innards of a bag of shredded three-cheese mix for Pizza night’s meal. Soon only the suckers with their strong suction remained, her lower back felt much better, perfectly lighter all the same. The pieces of Norbert tried to reform themselves into their former being of parasitic venom, but they would not be permitted, because Hannah decided to quickly eat the lot of them.  

    © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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  • Poem: Cheer Girl – 19/10/19

    Poem: Cheer Girl – 19/10/19

     She cheers for me,
     She cheers for you,
     She’s there standing by the side lines 
     When we are down and blue.
      
     She encourages us
     To be the best that we can
     She calls out motivation and speaks of 
     Our inner and outward strengths.
      
     When we stumble
     If we fall,
     She’s roaring now,
     She’s having a ball!
      
     She screams for us to keep on going,
     That we can perform what we wish to be
     Our dreams must be ongoing
     Her voice she does not think of saving.
      
     And then from the side lines
     She now rushes onto the court
     Holding our bodies then raising us up
      
     She swings us round and round
     Like children on the Hills hoist
     And reminds us to enjoy our lives
     In all our successes, 
     Failures,
     And future joy.

     © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

     
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  • Prose Poetry: Hoot Hoot – 19/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Hoot Hoot – 19/10/19

    Hoot and holler, holler and hoot, they express their blatant approval as you walk past their scene. Where you are not viewed as a person, but an item, a beautiful thing to be objectified and admired without the understanding that you feel and express yourself too. Now you hoot and holler, toward them you shake your fist and call, standing up for yourself, you won’t take their disrespect at all. With surprise they lower their eyes, ashamed, awash with embarrassment, they should have known better, to perform their social role with the respect they’d been taught to express at home. 

     © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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    (*Used Shutterstock image as a generalised drawing reference then altered.)

  • Prose Poetry: Expulsion – 18/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Expulsion – 18/10/19

    I have long ago released all ill feeling for those whom were once in my life, for the former alliances, for the ones who took advantage of a young naïve woman who was I. For those who exploited the gullibility in a cruel selfish manner that meant only they would be the ones benefiting, I speak to you now: you have no effect on me anymore, it is easier to forgive then commence forgetting than to cling to the hatred of years before.

    While it is effortless to recall angered words about them, in my being, in my core, I don’t feel anything bad or negative for them now, not anymore. It’s as though the thick black soot of anger and slime which permeated my being when I recalled them has simply annihilated itself, wiped itself clean.

    Certainly, I can detail my former anger and sense of insult and offence but what would be the point in that? Live and let live. These beings are the ones who have to live with who they truly are, how they are themselves, and that is quite possibly the biggest sucker-punch of an irony to be known and seen. They will one day be suffering; this I can assure you. The conscience has a way of making oneself accountable for their actions. And I know to stay well away from these types, because for me, the warning signs signal in my mind for evermore.

    I can’t imagine being like some of those self-serving, arrogant, selfish people I once knew. They would have to come to terms with how they treat others, and perhaps for them, there is nothing wrong with being advantageous, fashioning circumstances benefiting themselves and themselves alone. They do not think kindly of me, nor do they think of you, they precisely alter the methods and exercise their wiles until you’re backed against a wall, with nothing more to say. Unfortunately, occasionally our self-control and courage take a sick day.

    Do not allow yourselves to be affected by these types, nor the memory of what these types have performed. They are unworthy of your anger or spat spite, instead allow yourself to be free of negativity, they’re worthy of nothing in your life, nor space in your mind. They are gone for a reason. To the memory of them a firm goodbye.

     © 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.


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