Month: December 2019

  • Poem: A Little Tea Party for You and I – 25/12/19

    Poem: A Little Tea Party for You and I – 25/12/19

     I arrange the setting outside,
     we have unicorn cake and fizzy grape juice,
     the drink I loved in childhood,
     my very own permitted wine.
      
     I smile at you as we seat ourselves,
     this sunlight is painfully glaring,
     but, I adore this quaint set up,
     it’s perfect for you and I. 
      
     We sit and we nibble,
     our cake tastes like pink candy!
     So much like confectionery that
     the dentist, far off, 
     almost sings fine and dandy.
      
     Within minutes our treats 
     have been snarfed away into 
     our little hollow bellies,
     but there is more to digest,
     more unicorn cake and drink aplenty. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
     

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  • Poem: Delighted – 25/12/19

    Poem: Delighted – 25/12/19

     I am delighted 
     by the gift
     you gave to me,
      
     it’s not ordinary,
     it’s holy
     and it’s beautiful to me.
      
     It’s something which sings of praises
     both far and wide,
     a little figurine set, a nativity scene.
      
     I’ve never owned one before
     though I know the tale well,
     such beauty, adoring Mary, proud Joseph, 
     fresh faced baby Jesus. 
      
     It resonates within me,
     this miraculous scene,
     three so alive in the arrival,
     this is the true meaning of Christmas. 
       
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
     
     

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  • Poem: Reach and Repair Us – 23/12/19

    Poem: Reach and Repair Us – 23/12/19

     I reach into the depths of myself
     and pluck that certain something which makes me Me,
     beneath the surface I am swimming,
     searching for something that signifies, 
     which best expresses my essence.
      
     Is it that particular pitch of 
     laughter which resonates within you?
     That characteristic flick of 
     hair out of my eyes
     because I needed that haircut months prior?
    
     Or my grasping onto your arm,
     oh, how I needed the support from you,
     when crumbling and falling apart
     you were there. 
      
     Darling, we have patched ourselves so hastily,
     from broken and battered to healed with wefts
     and super human glue –
     Tarzan would be proud –
      
     Of our issues we seem to have 
     tentatively repaired,
     it’s no longer you and I 
     but us together, 
     an entwined pair again at last. 
      
     In pulling myself apart,
     in making myself experience discomfort,
     in making me try to bring forth that 
     which had become hidden,
     I knew I must draw myself forth,
     melt away the layers of my hesitant heart,
     for the good of ourselves,
     to fix what had come undone.
    
     But, the rusty handle of the gate 
     had been squeaking,
     begging to be oiled.  
      
     I attend to it lovingly, 
     with my brightened laughter and smiles, 
     you observe my work while you 
     attended to the rusted hinges.
     
     Then, perfection: 
     the gate is salvaged, 
     it no longer sings,
     though, it glides,
     view the beauty and smoothness it casts
     upon new memories now created 
     by the hearthside. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.  

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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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  • Poem: Floating – 22/12/19

    Poem: Floating – 22/12/19

     Here I float,
     in this ether of dreamy fluffiness,
     in this air of pillowy indefiniteness, 
      
     where I am swimming,
     arm over arm I transport 
     my body, less than willing
     from the beginning, 
     where did it start?
     it’s all so blurry.
      
     The billowing surroundings breathe 
     around my form
     as though they are carefully 
     brushing, pressing, enveloping me
     to create a sense of protection
     to be truly brought forth.
     
     And now I decide to ascend, 
     into a reality that’s perfection for this 
     aching corporal form itself.
      
     Allow me to float higher,
     allow me to rise so freely,
     permit me the sanctions of allowance
     to wipe away past human sins.
      
     The freedom of moral purging
     expunges the inner darkness
     of its deepest historical seeds,
     and the effect of cleansing 
     it duly permits
     can be endlessly felt and seen.
      
     I am a rising spirit,
     an ethereal being
     now free of earthly sin.
    
     Watch as I become at one with
     earth and air,
     I am now purely immaterial,
     I am no one,
     of my former self,
     there's nothing there.
     
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
    
     
     

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  • Poem: Reel to Reel – 20/12/19

    Poem: Reel to Reel – 20/12/19

    Photo: Pexels.com
     You take that tape of reel to reel
     and remind me that its presence is real,
     the details tracked,
     the history to be assumed
     is bright and colourful,
     but darling, can you promise it won’t leave this room?
      
     You promise me,
     you assure me,
     that the secrets won’t leave your lair,
     and darling, I trust you,
     in this fairground of livelihood,
     please make me all the more aware.
      
     I trusted you with my imagery,
     and do you wonder why I call upon you this eve?
     Strange occurrences have been befalling me,
     and the trail, my former muse, 
     appears to lead to thee. 
      
     Does your heart beat an altered pattern?
     A skip or two missing, in lieu? 
     My darling, you were never my darling, 
     you tricked me, 
     but in the end, I eluded you.  
    
    © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock
     also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.  

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  • Poem: My Dear Readers – 20/12/19

    Poem: My Dear Readers – 20/12/19

    Photo by Renato Abati on Pexels.com
     I sit back and wonder to myself,
     who you all are,
     where you come from, 
     how you’re feeling,
     what brings you to my world?
      
     I wish I could see each of your faces,
     greet you with happiness for allowing me 
     a portion of your day
     where I can feature with my words
     and hopefully sentimentally reach you,
     or perhaps prove as strident and bold, 
     or maybe I’ll make you smile your seconds away.
      
     I appreciate the moments you take 
     to read of how I think,
     presenting what means something to me,
     I appreciate you and you and you and you, 
     Why, every single being.  
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
     
       

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  • Poem: Lollipop Girl – 19/12/19

    Poem: Lollipop Girl – 19/12/19

     
     She’s a lollipop,
     worth a dime, 
     that sticky sweet treat.
      
     Delicious to unwrap,
     what a delight, 
     open her while you wear that great smile,
     I snatch her from you,
     I want to make her mine.
      
     Her head’s engorged,
     but, isn’t that the point?
     Her body and arms twiglike,
     where are her curves?
     And oh my, 
     where is her wrapper?
     She’s displeased at her state of undress. 
      
     But she’s presented beneath the lights,
     Star lights?
     Show lights, 
     a melting aura emanating 
     from her sticky outer.
     
     Lollipop girl, lollipop girl,
     you yearned to show yourself,
     now melt beneath these 
     precious lights,
     which you called upon yourself. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.   

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  • Poem: Dead Stares – 18/12/19

    Poem: Dead Stares – 18/12/19

    Instagram: @alicewellart
     Dead eyes stare beyond the fronds,
     dead dead dead.
     Their pupils are like empty saucers,
     entrances into another 
     vacuous underworld. 
      
     Knock knock on their doors,
     your fist will rap,
     triple tap, 
     tap, tap, 
     the entrances somehow welcome us,
     they gather our motivations somehow.
      
     Hear the lashes rustling as 
     eyelids mechanically blink,
     lubricating their glassy stares 
     as the mood sinks
     and sinks.
      
     We are afforded a means into their world
     assume nothing of their histories,
     their recorded images will show;
     they will detail.
      
     Knock knock blink blink,
     knock blink blink, 
     how many combinations can we make
     before the crux of the problem 
     reveals itself?
     The need to open our own eyes to 
     self-contemplation?
      
     I’ll observe them through the fronds
     as they carelessly observe me,
     obfuscate the glass though
     I’ll live with their means to 
     mechanically dream.
      
     They are unfeeling,
     they are anything but all knowing,
     they are everything and anything 
     they wish to be,
     but they will never penetrate 
     the outer shell which encompasses 
     all that is me.
      
     I am protected by my own glassiness,
     perils shall not befall me.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
      

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  • Poem: On a Swing – 15/12/19

    Poem: On a Swing – 15/12/19

     Me on a swing,
     How much I feel so gloriously young and free.
      
     The air rushes against my face,
     Breathless I am, breathtaking, I am amazed,
     At how simple a pleasure can be.
      
     When I swing high and low and higher still,
     And my tippie toes reach, reach, reach, inches higher, 
     More, moreeeee, 
     I feel I can break the record for rising the highest
     I will achieve this, no one will dare deny it
      
     At the lowest point I push my weight forward
     Like a souffle I suddenly explode forth, 
     My interior brimming with pride at the honour 
     I have achieved this little daily pleasure.
      
     I disembark, I shall reach greater heights another day.
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 

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