Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: dating

  • Poem: paired penguins – 06/12/21

    Poem: paired penguins – 06/12/21

    summertime
    everybody is coupled up
    like happy pairs of penguins
    smiling
    rolling polling along
    clutching small cups of pink or orange
    frozen fizz
    not worried about calories
    but emphasis on the joy
    of being alive
    together in the company of one another
    while I watch enviously
    for I do not have that other to smile with,
    hug, or hold.

    my penguin is still searching for his
    giant pebble to capture and present
    to this female
    perhaps the time is not
    ready for the world to be sharing
    itself like that with me
    I can ache and I can moan about
    not having a partner a precious other
    or I could realise that this is my current picture
    and I don’t need to be saved by anyone
    nor superhero
    absolutely no one

    I can carry on with my intent
    my motives my dreams
    achieving quietly slowly
    bay-leaf smiles with curiosity
    as I place my shoes on for yet another
    walk
    just for a certain part of time-pass
    bad mood to soon melt away
    with ease.

    (05/12/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by Paul Carroll on Unsplash

    Previous Post: newly forged – 05/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: newly forged – 05/12/21

    Poem: newly forged – 05/12/21

    the sun shines out of bright reverent eyes
    beautiful beautiful connection
    wondrous times and style
    fervent shared passions and running running lines
    of rushed feet and hurried paces
    breath controlled so divine
    the pounding of the pavement
    in sync in time
    rising pulses rising as full as my heart fills
    with heart song twittering breadth of new knowledge
    the connection so far
    unknown a Saturday from quietness
    from my home to his
    a stranger welcomed inside.
    (04/12/21).
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Photo by valérie faiola on Unsplash

    Previous Post: Poem/Audio: contemplation — gusting down to earth – 04/12/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

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  • Poem: Expressions In My Painted Corner – 04/07/20

    Poem: Expressions In My Painted Corner – 04/07/20

    I’ve painted myself into a corner,
with heavy shades
of red and black,
crimson for the
heartache,
darkness for the emptiness 
after the fact.
 
When I lost access to 
my chaotic world,
a paradise I shouldn't 
have cherished,
I felt broken, 
no recourse,
misunderstood, 
essentially alone:

Whom could I waltz through life with now?
Whom was left to cast my 
charming smiles upon, 
to share my lofty views 
in excited tones?

When he or she or another one left,
and those other important ones, too,
it seemed as if I’d lost 
my everything,
but now, at these
warped memories
I wonder: who on earth were you?
 
They had little lasting impact
on my life,
simply passers-by
who only meant
themselves well,
their sudden absences without alibis,
their silences spoke their truths,
I am now completely underwhelmed.
 
Selfish needs later attended to
after some uncomfortable, 
hastily arranged dates - 

their halfhearted, 
lackluster attention cast over
foamed four dollar coffees -
'wise investments':
I was viewed as a stock market who
should pay dividends later that day.

I proved so desperately hopeful 
for positive connections, 
genuine interactions, 
yet my lonely eagerness,
was perceived as a targeted weakness, 
I would later bend, shatter, 
and break.

Some chanced manipulation 
to slyly extract from me  
without my whole realisation or knowing,

because I was sitting there 
smiling,
consenting,
hopefully waiting,
my obvious yearning 
for acceptance
continually, perpetually growing,
like hungering, destructive flames,
they consumed me. 
 
Made pliable,
easily melded,
I allowed my 
resolve and will
to be bent,
to be repeatedly stung red-raw 
as though by a heated iron poker's end, 
to be tarnished,
and for what?

Absolutely nothing,
my efforts and emotions all ill spent.

Yet another 
redundant contact
to be eventually blocked or 
erased from view,
naivety and gullibility stole 
the best of my younger years, 
this is an essential, festering truth.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by Marion Grimm from Pixabay

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  • Poem: Stood Up – 24/06/20

    Poem: Stood Up – 24/06/20

    I sit in the bar quietly
where I am docile,
where I often softly wept
nomadic tears of loneliness,

I long to be held,
to feel loved and alive,
not empty, bereft, and alone.
 
Desperately, I sought matches out,
for a connection that was perfect,
meant for them and I alone,
an exhilarating circumstance,
where two pairs of eyes would lock,
they'd meet,
and both our hearts would begin to fervently pound.
 
But, in this bar,
I have been expecting,
I have been awaiting your arrival,

your welcomed beeps became a cessation,
fifteen minutes after you were
meant to sidle in with a smile.
 
You promised you’d be here,
you’d been waiting so long
to meet me,

our discourse has been
passionate and intellectual,
potent and electric,

lightning stimulated my heart
each time I heard that tone,
the sound to reassure me
your interest was still there

whether by the shining sunlight
or the calming moon
upon which I would 
dream and stare.
 
I felt you may have been made for me,
at least that’s what I hoped for,
suspected,
but now you’ve disappeared off
the radar,
I text my friends -
one cruelly tells me
your absence is expected.
 
I feel lost,
I feel used,
I feel stupid,
I feel dumb,

if only you hadn’t gotten my hopes up,
these tears wouldn’t have appeared,
why did you run?
Which actions of mine were so untoward,
what about me is inherently wrong?

Like you made yourself into a magic trick,
I, too, will make these stinging tears vanish,
I'll walk away,
feigned pride in my stride,

and if you'll call,
I'll have nothing left to say,
a man like you
has no place in my life.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
Image by LOC TRAN from Pixabay

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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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  • Poetry and Prose: A Lilt in My Rhyme, Thank You Very Much – 03/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: A Lilt in My Rhyme, Thank You Very Much – 03/10/19

    “A lilt in my rhyme, thank you very much,” I order, not ask.

    “You’ve got it, lady,” the bartender says, and turns his back to me. He commences his current task.

    Lady? Lady? I think to myself. I’ve never been called that in my life, at least not that I can recall. Sure, baby, honey, and so forth, but never a full-blown lady.

    The bottles and glasses clink and the blender whirls, the cocktail shaker with its ice cubes makes a nice heavy thud all of their own, and I, smiling to myself rest my chin in my hand, looking as pleasant as could be for my first date with What’s-His-Name. These dates are always the same; same formula, same format, just different person, different name. I’d rather a lilt in my rhyme than an extended purr to my name, and by goodness was I going to achieve this wish, one and the same.

    He shows in the doorway. My heart beats frantically. This one looks like a catch. My date approaches me with a great air of confidence.

    “What are you drinking, my lady?” There’s that word again.

    “A lilt in my rhyme, why do you ask?” I reply with a cheeky grin.

    “I do like them feisty,” he says, a twinkle present in his eye. And how do you think the night will unwind?

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


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