Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: illustration

  • Poem: My Pirate, O My Heart – 22/11/19

    Poem: My Pirate, O My Heart – 22/11/19

    (Apologies for the poor image quality. My house had a power outage and I drew this in terribly dim natural lighting.)
     You have stolen my heart you dastardly pirate, 
     you have taken me on board with your charming antics. 
     The times you put on a show for me, 
     was that you? 
     Or was that something entirely affected? 
      
     Still, I am intrigued by the choreography
     that you have interpreted as your own, 
     you dance, slide, shimmy from right to left,  
     taking on board this smooth sailor’s wave,
     my emitting heart-zone. 
      
     All I feel in my chest is a thump, thump, 
     thumping and a thump, 
     because it is you who has wholly taken me 
     it is you who holds the capacity to cherish or break
     my precious willing heart. 
      
     And though I beg and beseech you to
     chase me further,
     to take me under your wing,
     to teach me everything sweet, kind and loving, 
     I know that you are a pirate through and through
     and that your merrymaking is simply to 
     thieve from anyone, 
     even me, 
     I already know this of you. 
      
     But, be still, be loving, hold me in your arms,
     our bodies wrapped together, 
     arms closing, 
     don’t break me ever.

     My powerful pirate, 
     let us sail the high seas with 
     my heart trapped in my throat
     as well as in your 
     gentle cupped hands.    

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

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  • Poem: Spiky Ducky – 21/11/19

    Poem: Spiky Ducky – 21/11/19

     This hybrid drake liked to surf the seas, 
     in the foam he would play and turn in 
     whichever way he pleased.
      
     But he was serious in his intent
     of searching for a mate,
     a lovely lady friend to
     forever speak with,
     confide in,
     experience with,
     and commiserate. 
      
     But where would he find her?
     The journey was so long,
     and he had passed many other duckies 
     but never the right one.
      
     He wished for the perfect moment 
     when he and her would lock their eyes
     and a flush would come about him
     and his beak would tremble just so,
     that he wouldn’t be able to even speak
     let alone if he could even try.
      
     So, he continued searching high and low 
     did our dear little drake,
     he passed a shroud of spiky fantasies 
     but they were not for him.
      
     He wanted a hen wholesome
     and certainly down to earth
     someone whom he could walk
     alongside with during life
     not a hen whom he would need to 
     give a wide berth.
      
     Instructions, morals, 
     truths and more,
     he knew that the perfect hen 
     was out there
     just for him,
     the surprise was in store.
      
     All he had to do was wait and continue to look,
     the pastime had become a fervent mission
     and the energy to perform this task 
     was now monumental. 
      
     But it was without any surprise that he came upon 
     the perfect one, 
     she was gorgeous, with spikes just like his,
     sitting upon a glassy pond’s surface,
     a reflective world, 
     but of his presence she seemed unaffected all at once. 
      
     He beseeched her with a honk, 
     a frantic flapping of wings to prove his worth, 
     but she still sat there, 
     eyes untoward, 
     facing on the surrounding grounds. 
      
     He continued to honk and flap just to please
     but this hardened ducky hen 
     would not be appeased. 
     
     With sadness he left the scene, 
     feeling utterly bereft, 
     thinking of what else he could have done
     to heighten and made positive that scene.
      
     A formal undertaking, 
     internal sentiments showing,
     it seemed there was little more he  
     could have performed 
     in that moment they had met. 
      
     With a sudden whoosh from behind him, 
     a being rushed right past him, 
     plonked themselves before his eyes,
     it was the unaffected Ducky Hen!
     With a smile, she began to peck-peck him 
     with kisses and lovingly preen him.
      
     She had been playing a little game
     in those moments when she appeared to not care,
     of his presence she was now so pleased,
     and of this the drake was now happily aware. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Three Pupils in a Pod – 20/11/19

    Poem: Three Pupils in a Pod – 20/11/19

     Three pupils in a pod,
     one, two, three, 
     thump!
      
     Carefully observing,
     wondering where they’re going,
     travels in life, 
     so far yonder,
     if not careful they’ll find
     much peril before them. 
      
     These wary, cautious eyes,
     have seen more than they can stand,
     they have witnessed atrocious sufferings,
     and several sleights of hand.
      
     Because who better to record
     than a triplet set of eyes?
     To silently catalogue and observe
     but with no lips to tell the truth,
     to dispel the convolutions from
     certain criminals’ lies. 
      
     All they can do is watch,
     they cannot even shift or move,
     only blinking helplessly,
     clearing their vision,
     making their lenses lubricated
     to continue in their method of being 
     utterly silent witnesses. 
      
     But what use are eyes 
     when without a mouth 
     they cannot share? 
     Only storing their visions
     without a sense of concern
     let alone ample or adequate care.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poetry: The Farthest Light Away – 14/11/19

    Poetry: The Farthest Light Away – 14/11/19

    She glows from within. Her thoughtful, ponderous eyes focus on that which is unfocused, the worldly others farther away, further, further, but of the complexities they hold, she projects them from her sense of being, internally of them she is freeing.

    Her connection with the light may not make any sense to others, those observers, those outsiders, but she does not need to prove, nor feel a need to speak of her faith in the light above. She is guided by the unfocused worldly others, dragged forth, her eyes grasping, caressing their views, as she allows them to rest within her being, to sink gently inside.

    To wholly accept the notion of something that cannot be entirely shown but can be existentially felt either shows a brave blind trust or something special entrusted to us. Because our viewing of her faith, so fair and knowledgeable without having a presence behind it at all is something of great circumstance, this day, this night, never will her faith fall.

    She trusts the light, the beings within her adoring eyes, the scene before her that no one, nothing, can take away from. She is special in her acceptance, the light means more to her than to those who nay-say about her beliefs, and incomplete to complete has her life become because of her ability to dare to dream and believe.

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

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  • Poem: Coulda, Woulda, Should – 12/11/19

    Poem: Coulda, Woulda, Should – 12/11/19

     As I sit upon that mountain top
     of coulda, woulda, should, 
     I wonder to myself what would happen
     if I actually would with my actions do. 
      
     The methods of my madness,
     the truth among the omission of lies,
     my projected sense of attitude
     determined to succeed before
     all sets of eyes.

     Where the observers sit awaiting,
     watching carefully as I traverse the
     steps in my life where 
     I should have been filled 
     with embarrassment and regret.
      
     The moments where I could have wished 
     to have wiped clean the visions and those times
     but the truth is I don’t want to wipe them away,
     they are history,
     they are part of what made me 
     here and who I am today.
      
     Without such experiences 
     who would have known whether I’d have
     travelled down a differing though 
     similar path and be worse off in my 
     current version of today?
      
     Best to work with what I know, 
     And cherish the way my life has turned out
     upon this promising open path.

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

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  • Poetry: An Eyesore – 11/11/19

    Poetry: An Eyesore – 11/11/19

     Herein lies this creature, 
     the cause for great alarm. 
     Idly he stares at you, dead socket, 
     your heart beats, skips and thumps.
      
     You’ve never seen a thing like this,
     the glassy glossy sheen is making you spin,
     there’s nothing living 
     beneath the surface, surely?

     Though you’re still frightened,
     this creature makes you feel so 
     nervous and utterly poorly. 
      
     His colours may confuse you,
     befuddle you as you observe,
     the creature now scuttles here and there
     towards you: 
     Oh my, why, what nerve!
      
     You recoil instinctively,
     you don’t want a thing to do with him,
     then with a running leap he jumps
     and lands upon you,
     isn’t this an interesting scene?
      
     Snuffling like an adorable pet,
     he engulfs your face with licks and kisses;
     it’s a free for all,
     there is not a section of your skin that
     his kisses and licks are missing.
      
     Then you realise this creature is 
     actually simply misunderstood,
     taken for face value, 
     as many before him had, and after him would. 
      
     His appearance is nothing he can alter,
     and when it comes to observing something
     different and unique,
     I hope you will not again falter. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. 
    All rights reserved.  

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  • Poetry: Eyes All Around – 09/11/19

    Poetry: Eyes All Around – 09/11/19

    Eyes all around, I can sense their presence lurking over me. Eyes all around, I feel the pupils burning into me. A sense of understanding that somebody is watching; I dart my eyes to the left of me, and there he is blatantly staring. I smile briefly to let him know I knew of his watching. A feeling of being observed makes me feel more than slightly aware, why is it these pairs are watching, as I travel from here to there? What is it about me that makes me special to their vision? This isn’t paranoia at all, their practices need intervention.

    Do they know who I am? Or am I simply an interesting spectacle? I’m not dressed in anything attention-seeking, to bring forth their overt sense of observation. I am in the usual place I can be found at often, simply shopping for groceries, snacks, then off to the car. I want to ask that man what was it that made me so interesting to him that he had to blatantly stare, as though he was waiting for me to become aware, of his interest, should I have glared? In hindsight I know inherently that a glare is no solution, not even from afar.

    I know what paranoia feels like, I’ve been there, experienced it, then tenfold before, this is nothing like that whatsoever. I simply know that rumours might be abounding, and of this, I can’t do anything more than ignore.

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

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  • Something Different: A Little Prompt – 08/11/19

    Something Different: A Little Prompt – 08/11/19


    I’ve decided to try something different with this post. I’d love if you could join me! When you first see this drawing of mine, what springs to mind?

    Could you write a few words, sentences or a little paragraph of your own story to fit this hungry, hungry birdie?

    I thought it might be fun to interact this way rather than me posting my thoughts relentlessly. I hope you can share with me the results of your creative minds! 🙂

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  • Poem: An Old Friend – 07/11/19

    Poem: An Old Friend – 07/11/19

     Flowery, happy moments, 
     where our moods and our words 
     would bounce and leap around,  
     our eyes playfully locking with the other’s, 
     as we smiled and pranced, 
     our voices singing in unison, 
     such a joyous sound. 
      
     I remembered how happy we were, 
     where we would spend all 
     our spare time together; 
     you’d visit me in the various locations 
     in which I’d lived, 
     and my goodness, the fun and mischief  
     we’d always seem to find.
      
     The days and nights which were 
     happily managed,
     when the sun arose 
     it was too soon for the dawn.
      
     We would explore the world in its 
     exciting realm of darkness, 
     the music thumping loudly in our ears, 
     and our eyes dancing this way and that
     searching for other people 
     to approach and learn more of.
      
     I’d always be too shy to get onto 
     the floor for a dance, 
     but you loved to move so fluidly,
     your limbs shifting so freely.
      
     But, we grew apart,
     for each of us there were differing trends,
     different paths we chose:
     some to be proud of,
     others not so much,
     but in the end, 
     there were decisions and results 
     of great commendation. 
      
     Because we both succeeded
     in our own ways,
     and while we do not speak, 
     and perhaps we will never 
     see one another again,
     at least I can hold the memories in my heart,
     strong, proud and true,
      
     that I had someone,
     a former great friend in my life who had 
     stuck around longer than     
     most of the people
     who were in my world had proven to.

     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known 
     as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 
      
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  • Poetry: Artistry – 06/11/19

    Poetry: Artistry – 06/11/19

     
     It seems we are all striving to be seen creatively
     for our mastery at whatever our 
     hands, mouths, eyes can fashion, shape, produce.
     To be acknowledged for our skillsets at these,
     our desire to exercise the right to be 
     creative and wonderfully delve.
      
     The foundations have already been laid,
     there is no resistance anymore,
     our work and statures are well respected,
     everything is here available to us,
     our talents can truthfully soar. 
      
      
     Edit not your words which have presently flowed,
     tidy not that corner of your painting whose 
     colours appeared to have self-imploded,
     rephrase not that section of vocals which 
     ascended and trembled so delicately that
     your heart felt it too had risen.
      
     Creatively speaking we are in a new age,
     these are times where our artistry is embraced,
     accepted,
     looked upon with praise and as distinguished,
     not shunned or having our practices 
     abhorred or dismissed.
      
     Instead others look upon the creators with 
     wonder at our skills, 
     amazing imaginations,
     imperfect yet perfect construction of our talents,
     the ability to reproduce while avoiding direct replication — 
     this is an age that we cannot dismiss.
      
     For, our artistry and ingenuity are those that make our work 
     wondrous, amazing creations to be venerated and 
     allow others to be
     visually impressed or otherwise 
     placated and pleased. 

     We can impress with our skills with the greatest of 
     excellence and ease.
     
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 

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