Tag: pastel
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Artwork: bubbles – 23/02/22
Original artwork by myself. (c) 2022. Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. -
Artwork – 21/02/22
Wide eyed – original artworks by myself, (c) 2022
Dance lightly – (c) 2022
Beautiful as a buttercup – (c) 2022
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Poem: Stay a While – 28/12/19
N.B. This post may be triggering for some people. Please consider if you may be prone to being negatively affected by reading this post. Stay a while, they said to him, consume, consume, of us, take your fill. There is nothing in life we cannot fix, blindly drink, devour, ingest, take us in, we are your fuel. Then, Stay a while, They say to him, as he sways from side to side, excessiveness his served meal, Stay, my friend, stay, an echoing voice calls, the past dragging him behind to a voice he once knew well. Stay, my darling, please, her voice begs of him, as he foams at the mouth, his eyes rolling terrifyingly, Go if you must, his mother’s saddened voice is faint, barely a whisper, as she strokes his hair, wipes away the slick sweat. In a moment she knows he is lost. Teach them to stay, that life is worth living! she announces to the assembled crowd at the gathering where awareness is raised for her son and the psychology of many lost and living others. They need to stay, she beseeches, they need to know we want and need them to remain, love will teach them, that they need to stay a whole while longer. © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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. -
Poem: Fruit and Veg – 22/11/19
A charming little scene,
a still life in my mind,
an aubergine,
an orange,
a laughing apple with squinting eyes.
The contended little aubergine
is centred in our sight,
while the mischievous orange
directly to the side
seems to know something,
we can tell this
from his grin and laughingly delighted eyes.
And what of this delicious apple,
so crunchy and so crisp?
Don’t dive into him with your gnashing teeth
because there will be something precious in your midst!
All three work together
in the still frame in my mind,
an entertaining trio,
of fructose and vitamins,
a feast for my hungry eyes.
Their colours burst,
They flourish before me,
can you appreciate them too?
My clever trio of minds-eye fruit and veg,
sent directly from my mind,
From me to a hungering you.
© 2019 Lauren M. Hancock
also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. -
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.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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