Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Author: Lauren M. Hancock

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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. 
 
  

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.  

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • 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.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • Poem: Shattered Pieces – 14/12/19

    Poem: Shattered Pieces – 14/12/19

     The shattered pieces of my heart 
 lay unnoticed at his feet,
 where broken, jagged edges of myself 
 lay all around, 
 puncturing my reality. 
  
 I take in the rejections, 
 the bold airy silences which once 
 swam with bloated promise and hope,
 and I tell myself
 he does not matter
 that I must take care of my heart and myself.
  
  It’s as though I’ve taken a stab to my spleen,
  an organ which I don’t need to survive
  but by goodness I can feel the disgusting pain 
  and dripping of blood into my internal cavities.
  
 You’re a delicious distraction
 You’re a self-inflicted wound
 You’re everything I’ve wanted
 My inhalation, exhalation
 My tainted poison 
  
 You cause my shattering
 and I further perpetuate the breakage 
 into smaller parts
 let’s make our very own mosaic 
 where we can always be reflected in 
 our own unique mirror surface

 together yet never completely,
 close enough, at last.   
 A picture-perfect image,
 A decisive work of art.
 
© 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

    Return to All Posts

    Home

  • Poem: The Game of Life – 12/12/19

    Poem: The Game of Life – 12/12/19

     Pinned to the game of life,
     spin it for a consolation prize, 
     perhaps you’ll win 
     something extraordinary,
     either way, relish the 
     pillaging of history.
      
     The girl pinned on the wheel
     is there unwillingly,
     but she is there to provide smilingly,
     there is always something to 
     gain from her presence. 
      
     Around and around 
     and upside down,
     you’ll always win from her,
     the game of life, this suits her. 
      
     She’s unable to remove herself, 
     free her stiffened limbs, 
     but she is here and she is potent
     with her hidden mysteries. 
      
     She can speak of them freely,
     but why bother, 
     some would balk,
     others would make her a pariah 
      
     Best she smiles away and 
     preserves her words
     spin the wheel of life,
     there’s nothing of substance 
     which she wants to share,
     nothing special which she’d rather say
     
     Her silencing is absurd.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

    Return to All Posts

    Home