Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: love

  • 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: Cinnamon Milk – 26/12/19

    Poem: Cinnamon Milk – 26/12/19

     Cinnamon and sugar dusted over my
 warmed cup of milk,
 it comforts me, it makes my stomach smile,
 my grin shine, 
 have a taste of it yourself!
  
 I will prepare yours with the greatest of ease,
 dust and sprinkle it as I please,
 to present this to you with a glowing smile, 
 ahead of a stomach set to be full of liquid
 deliciously worthwhile. 
  
 And how about a shortbread biscuit?
 Santa left a couple on his plate,
 perhaps he’s on a bit of food restriction,
 heaven knows he’d been eating at every house last night!
  
 Paired with some cinnamon sugar and paired with some milk,
 enjoy your time together,
 this time of year is for family and friends,
 such loving proof, the mood overwhelms.
  
 Sip and nibble upon your milk and cookies,
 tell stories, recollect old memories,
 and remember past loved ones,
 who once sat in your spaces with bright eyes 
 and open hearts and expressions so warm.
  
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • 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: 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: 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.

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  • Poem: I Seek – 08/12/19

    Poem: I Seek – 08/12/19

     I search high and low
     for someone to discover the truthful internal me.
     To connect and accept, 
     a momentous moment to take hold.
      
     Because I have been searching, 
     aching, 
     crawling for so long, 
     in order to achieve that state of bliss which we call
     “Love”.
      
     What does it feel like or mean to be truly accepted?
     To be considered as enough, 
     more than enough so
     for another’s world?
      
     In which you would be their everything, 
     amazing for them, 
     nothing more would they want, 
     their journey, their search 
     would also be done.


     And link hands would we,
     together against the world,
     nothing will stop us from being our truthful identities,
     whatever we wish to become,
     together we will meld and ne’er come undone,
     because darling, let me say,
     you might really be the one. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Swing High, Sweetheart – 06/12/19

    Poem: Swing High, Sweetheart – 06/12/19


     We swing high and swing low,
     exhilarating heights, devastating falls.
     Because what occurs where we 
     play nice and then with fire? 
     Our hearts are entwined, 
     we are lost in rapture. 
      
     Our love may seem innocent and sweet
     like child’s play,
     rising high and dipping low,
     smiling adoration. 
      
     Yet painfully we part from one another,
     the very next day in each other’s company.
     There is little to see but dedication
     from our severed scene.
      
     Rising high then bop,
     falling down and thump,
     it’s like a never-ending cycle 
     where we can’t decide
     who is the propellant and who is the flame? 
      
     I surmise I would be the antagonist,
     it’s just how I am,
     the flame, 
     the one to catch the stirring propellant
     is you, 
     one and the same. 
      
     We can fall apart as many times as we like,
     But in the end, we always conjoin. 

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

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  • Poem: The Apparent Angel Sent to Me – 23/11/19

    Poem: The Apparent Angel Sent to Me – 23/11/19

    Ah, I remember you.

    With your curly ringlets, angelic darkened hair, your deep pooled eyes which I fell into, how I stopped and stared. You were there waiting for me, so it seemed, sitting outside the cafe, wearing special gemstone rings – onyx, and a brown sparkly stone for good fortune – which at the time greatly appealed to me. Gemstones, their meanings and usages were important back then to me. During times of mental illness, I clung to anything that might or could heal me.

    I knew inherently that we were meant to meet, it was as though you were a traveller coming upon my grounds, to search me out, to feel my heart pound. Or was there another intent?

    You humoured me as I babbled about your gemstones, you listened somewhat attentively to my poems, but it was at this moment I felt a personal affront, because you uttered words of quiet insult. “Is that it?” you said to me. Like my work, my piece, was not enough in itself. Still, there I remained, lapping up the company, the invalidating attentions that this apparent-angel was providing. Looks can be deceiving.

    Then there came the time to leave, we both instinctively stood at the same time. We automatically shook hands, as though I’d made a deal with the devil, rather than with something of pureness, like an angel with his surrounding light. “See you soon,” we both said ominously, as if a warning, a premonition for something frightening.

    But the truth of the matter is, I never saw this angel again. I suspect he had been sent for a purpose, but I won’t go any further into this. Allow me to say though, that I was likely not viewed as a potential risk to whomever was behind the assessment. The puppet master behind the scenes.

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

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  • 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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