Category: Uncategorized

  • Poem: Dropped Mic – 04/02/20

    Poem: Dropped Mic – 04/02/20

     Speakers blare, expressing my ravaged thoughts as I 
     fail to stop and observe those surrounding me.
      
     My decibels ail those in proximity,
     near and far, their pain is surfacing.
      
     While I, an obnoxious lass in my second decade 
     smile and smile
     at the effect I now realise I am having.
      
     Finally, they, you, them, are all forced to listen,
     I cannot turn back the clock to decade two from three,
     for some things, truly, I am sorry.
      
     I up the ante and progress to screams – 
     will you not hear me?
     cannot you understand me?
     I am here, before your eyes,
     begging to be seen and needed.
      
     The clock ticks – 
     tick tock
     a cuckoo sings, heralding one hospital admission 
     or another,
     and the microphone drops
     an echoing boom,
     there exists permeating silence within this room.
      
     Quietly dragged away,
     by a member of a crisis team,
     to be loaded with medications
     there goes the development of my skills,
     my synapses will be 
     blotted dulled scrambled
     no longer freely firing. 
      
     My talents all but drained from me,
     isn’t it such irony
     that they catch you while you’re endlessly flying?
      
     © 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 whoalice-moore from Pixabay

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  • Poem: A Caring Listener – 03/01/20

    Poem: A Caring Listener – 03/01/20

     you listened as I rambled on and on
     perched atop that park bench like a little birdy, 
     your birdy,
     informing you of my days and ways.
      
     whiling our time away
     to you I would sing and talk –
     i wasn’t allowed to perch closer to you because:
     rules
     rules 
     ruled our days.
      
     in this environment we were in
     we could speak and laugh and socialise
     but never
     touch
     hug 
     or
     kiss.
      
     these were forbidden,
     but you were my protector, back then
     you committed, you listened. 
      
     you continued to be there,
     even when we drew nearer to wellness,
     a time when ordinarily 
     friendships and hearts would part
     we still retained a little of what we had melded.
      
     and though you’re far off
     living life as you wish it
     fulfilling dreaminess like you know is so deserving
     your little birdy is still here 
     with her tuneful song and smile
     i thank you for listening
     thanks for allowing me to stay awhile. 
     
     © 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 Kerstin Riemer from Pixabay

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  • secrecy: a complex history – 03/01/20

    secrecy: a complex history – 03/01/20

     
     my life has been more complex than most,
     i need not list the paths and crevasses and cliffs,
     but there were terrifying pictures,
     so too were there visions of exhilaration and madness,
     some of fierce independence,
     and others of sheer bliss.
     
     rarely chosen by others, 
     the paths selected were mainly mine,
     i wound my way around complexities which I made that way,
     rarely searching for an interior perspective,
     instead presenting an outrageously picturesque view:
     assess what’s on offer,
     revelations, revelations
     under a freshly plucked non de plume.
    
    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
     All images signed “LMH” 
     are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
     and all rights reserved. 

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  • Poem: Hello, My Pudding and Pie – 03/01/19

    Poem: Hello, My Pudding and Pie – 03/01/19

     Hello to you, my pudding and pie,
     I will kiss you, dear, never make you cry, 
     for this is a promise I will make, 
     a vow that I will undertake.
      
     I shan’t allow you to feel saddened or blue,
     I will cherish your heart as I hold it,
     a perfect beating view,
     I will nourish our lives together,
     delighted you will become,
     because my darling, pudding and pie,
     nevermore will you cry. 
      
     Those silly little girls in your past, 
     they drew naughts and crosses against your heart,
     they scarred you in special places of your mind,
     don’t kiss girls like these,
     they’ll only make you cry. 
      
     I am here to wipe away your tears,
     we’ll create new memories, 
     of love and joy together,
     even the furious moments of which we’ll clear,
    
     and my dearest, hello, I greet you,
     I’m finally here to make your eyes fresh,
     hold me near.
     
     Pudding and pie, don’t remember those girls you kissed,
     because I am right here before your eyes. 
      
     © 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 Adina Voicu from Pixabay  

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  • Poem: Too Sweet – 02/01/19

    Poem: Too Sweet – 02/01/19

     She is gone, she has left, she’s departed.
     I made it this way;
     she’s better off having undergone this process.
      
     Because she was too bright bubblegummy 
     and saccharine sweetness, far too much of it,
     one taste and her candy flavour would explode
     inside your mouth, snap, crackling, popping. 
      
     It’s easy to hide behind something which obscures,
     but what occurs when you want to stand up,
     and show you’re you,
     and this is yours?
      
     The tartness mixed with the sugar of a lemon drop
     makes me wince, I screw up my face,
     the bitter sweetness of reality 
     slamming into what is truth,
     to reveal, it is never too late.
    
      © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    
     All images signed “LMH” 
     are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
     and all rights reserved. 

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  • My Reflections on Blogging in 2019 – 01/01/20

    My Reflections on Blogging in 2019 – 01/01/20

    I was so excited to start a page on WordPress when I joined in July 2019. Though I’ve had other blogs before, this was to be something in which I showcased mainly my art, rather than my words. I loved writing little funny stories to go along with my illustrations and felt the sense of community within this platform while I shared. People were supportive of my words and illustrations and this made me feel welcomed. I am so thankful for my readers, past and present, for reading and enjoying what I have to share. I really am so grateful for your support.

    Then I published my first book Our Whimsical World a few months into having my blog, which was such an amazing experience. Working with my editor Ben helped me learn many different things about self publishing and I am so grateful for his support and expertise.

    Shortly thereafter, I began to sway away from writing moral stories or stories about animals or people which were amusing or thought provoking and had some form of message attached to them. I began to focus on writing and posting poetry, which I feel comfortable with and enjoy writing. I was worried that readers would not respond well to the change of tone and style of my blog, given that I had written so many of the short stories/flash fiction with illustrations that were light-hearted and such, but in a way, perhaps I needn’t have worried.

    Then, nearing the end of December, I decided to remove Alice Well as the name of my website, the artistic name I was known as, and reclaim my site under my own name. I felt it was time to do so, especially as I am going in a different direction with my poetry. There was the possibility that going from one identity to myself may have caused problems and initial confusion, but I felt it was the right thing to do.

    I think that when it comes to altering one’s posts or style in which they post, it just takes time for it to be accepted. I know that my readers are still here, and while I may have lost some readers because of the more personal style in which I am writing, I know that others will view my work and it may resonate with them too. It’s just a matter of pushing on, finding the right niche in which to sit, and allowing myself to be transparent and open to those who stumble upon my words, or follow them already. In life, there are endless tales to be told, it is just the manner in which one constructs the body of it that makes it whole.

    Thank you for being part of my 2019 and I look forward to seeing you in 2020!

    Love,

    Lauren

    Photo copyrighted 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Little Girl Lost – 01/01/20

    Poem: Little Girl Lost – 01/01/20

     I rush through the forest in my mind,
     searching for the correct path to tread.
     It seems all the red cedar trees 
     are up against me,
     surrounding my path, 
     they growl and grow,
     their presence is immense.
      
     I hurtle from one trunk to the next
     seeking out that which might be 
     tied to it or hung from a thick branch
     but nothing I see fits the view I beg to see,
     I hurtle from tree to tree. 
      
     I am frantic, 
     I have little time left
     to search out what I require
     and what requires my hands.
      
     The feeling of helpless hopelessness 
     washes over me as I begin to 
     lose all sense of control,
     I just want to save them and leave.
      
     It is essential for me to rescue the past,
     to carefully hold it close,
     not allow others a glance,
    
     but it is difficult to save something 
     from certain evils of the world,
     its judgmental eyesight,
     its mocking, lack of understanding 
     of a once hopeful girl. 
      
     Because that is who I am saving,
     my younger self,
     who made mistakes, 
     so many,
     yet here I am,
     in a world where I can feel proud 
     of what I am doing.
      
     The life which I lead is 
     worth feeling pride for, 
     I have walked many miles,
     and with a sudden sense of relief,
     my eyes fall upon that little girl. 
      
     About twenty, is she,
     am I, rather,
     on the precipice, of where I will fall,
    
     but now I reach and untie this 
     little naïve, gullible being
     and save her from her imminent future,
     the experiences she no longer 
     has to live and solve.
      
     And rush do we through the cedar trees, 
     time is ticking for our survival, 
     for her to return to my world of safety
     but something is dragging her behind, 
     the air of heavy history,
     and I realise she must live it 
     in order for my current self to breathe.
      
     It is with heavy sadness that I let my 
     tight grasp of her hand go
     and her outstretched arm falls limply,
     into the darkness she melds. 
      
     © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    
     All images signed “LMH” 
     are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
     and all rights reserved. 

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  • Poem: Fireworks and Flames – 31/12/19

    Poem: Fireworks and Flames – 31/12/19

     While our nation burns,
     our fireworks are set to go ahead.
     Through the cameras, through our eyes, 
     we have watched 
     our bushland and towns and livestock ablaze.
      
     While thousands will gather to celebrate
     the burning brightness of spectacular sparkles,
     uncounted others bend their heads in sorrow,
     their lives in turmoil, for some, everything lost.
      
     As the masses will view the pretty, sparkling display
     keep in mind that today and others,
     brave men and women are risking their lives
     to save what is ours,
     
     what is burning to the ground,
     while you delight in viewing an uplifting display 
     remember to silently hold tribute to those 
     who are without on this New Year's Day. 
     
     © 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 Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Bumbling Bumblebee – 31/12/19

    Poem: Bumbling Bumblebee – 31/12/19

     
     I am a bumbling bumblebee,
     I flit from flower to flower, 
     bough to bough,
     tree to tree. 
      
     I am in awe of what 
     Nature has to deliver,
     I sip, 
     I suckle,
     I collect: – 
     I leave.
      
     Bumbling from each flower to the next,
     I make my way around as though 
     I’m in my own duplex,
     where in the darkness of night, 
     I will not stumble,
     I know all the corners and turns, 
     the pieces of the puzzle.
      
     But then I reach a foreign plant,
     one which I have no awareness of,
     confusedly I ram into the branches,
     buzz, buzz, buzz, 
     grr, grr, buzz!
      
     The pollen on my back legs
     starts to disengage from my twig-like limbs,
     and there is nothing I can do because
     I must be under attack: 
     will my worker bees help me please?
      
     Falling, falling, 
     I am so bumbling,
     silly little buzzing me, 
     I should have investigated the scene before stalling.
      
     At the appearance of a swarm of wasps,
     I am required to quickly leave.
     
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    
     All images signed “LMH” 
     are copyrighted 2019 by Lauren M. Hancock 
     and all rights reserved.     

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  • Poem: Anything But Ordinary – 30/12/19

    Poem: Anything But Ordinary – 30/12/19

     Allow me to throw all this 
     seriousness out the window,
     watch it rise, then drop, go, 
     weighted, begone!
     It’s as though an exhilarating breath 
     has been taken inside of you
     Inhale, exhale, you crave another round.
      
     Where life could be so simple, 
     so pure, so you,
     one of perfection, a life of independence,
     where in this life, of your reality,
     everything is light, feathery, and airy. 
      
     Your words move softly from your lips,
     your fingertips dance over naked skin,
     and touching your arm makes the 
     hairs on your neck raise,
     you don’t need another here, 
     to feel grateful and amazed.
      
     Because you are perfection, dear, 
     even with your self-labelled flaws,
     they’re your signs that you are unique,
     be careful with your heart,
    
     do not denigrate yourself,
     talk down internally 
     because you, sweetheart, 
     are anything but ordinary.
     
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
     All images signed “LMH” 
     are copyrighted by Lauren M. Hancock 
     and all rights reserved, 2019.  
    
    Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay
    

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