Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: pastels

  • Poem: Peacocking – 31/10/19

    Poem: Peacocking – 31/10/19

    He peacocks here, he peacocks there, he struts and struts as people stare.

    His showiness is all-too-easily-seen, and it reflects where he is going and where he has been.

    This bright bird with eyes that stare into your soul, they delve inside without concern for you nor care as they take hold.

    They intensify, enveloping you,

    Making certain to assess and formulate a plan or two for you.

    There is nothing these eyes do not see,

    For they view me, they wholly see me.

    For, this bird is rather sneaky, he wishes to play a game that is not so pretty,

    A game in which he can manipulate you,

    Into believing there is more than the two of him and you.

    For, his eyes, those eyes, upon his feathers they deceive,

    Wonder not whether they are in reality or falsified as can possibly be seen,

    Because as he resumes strutting and mesmerising all that can see him,

    I wonder to myself where this illusory bird has come from,

    And when from my life he will leave.

    I do not need the deception in my life,

    Of a strutting male as I try to once again make sense of the inner chasms and strife,

    As I will know from the past, there’s no reason to feel as though I’m an outcast,

    Simply because I am different from this showy, eccentric male.

    One day I’ll shine my feathers, the true colours showing through the brown.

    It’s not easy sometimes, being overshadowed by another leading the crowd.

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


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    My New Book – Our Whimsical World

  • Prose Poetry: Shedding Intolerance – 29/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Shedding Intolerance – 29/10/19

    I’m like a brightly blazing deciduous tree except I will not weep for you. Because while my colours alternate from light greens to crisp fawns and crunchy dryness as the seasons go from bright to dark, days longer to short, at this moment I’m far less tolerant, adaptive I am not.

    Release not the inner emotions, the angst which we both feel. The grinding of stone upon pavement, the scratchy itching frustration I feel. The knowledge that I am absorbing a melody that I do not wish to be performed through me, and the strangeness and wearing down of my barely-present tolerance is surprisingly unyielding. I feel rather affected, and most certainly quite ill at ease. 

    I’d much rather be alone in these moments, and cast off my unwanted and unfeeling leaves in silence. They are not necessary. And neither is this irritation which is featuring heavily in this ongoing dramatic story.

    There’s a brief pause now, an interlude, to allow anger and the stifling feeling of unrest to build into an explosive level of intent and mistrust. Because, neither of us seems to want to admit wrongdoing, or take responsibility, or be willing to say we’re sorry. We’d rather war with our displeased silences than allow ourselves to become defeated and at a loss.

    But instead we’ll confide in one another, especially with you sharing how you truly feel. Your frustrations, your sufferings, your immense irritation; your desire for me to wholeheartedly acknowledge your communications about how you feel. It is not all about me, it is due to the surrounding world which surrounds your considered yet busy, ever-changing bubble; you voice, you vent, you scream, then you’re seemingly spent. We now link hands, and forehead to pressed forehead we gaze into one another, our eyes calming the other, the viewing of our aching souls entwined together. 

    You wrap your arms around your now-caring and almost-barren tree, as the last leaves from my limbs fall with gentle ease. Winter is upon us, allow each to warm the other with a manner of understanding and openness to be felt and seen. For, our hearts are fiery in the heat in which they deliver and the clipped words and admonishments are lost in the airy but biting winter’s breath — this argument seems like the end of an unwanted era. Allow us to communicate more effectively, to prove true calming consideration at its best.

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


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  • Prose Poetry: Icy Heart – 27/10/19

    Prose Poetry: Icy Heart – 27/10/19

    Your heart, my love, has grown as solid and as cold as a block of impenetrable, unbreakable ice. I can’t imagine you remaining like this for much longer – it’s devastating in its effects, my aching heart, my saddened eyes. Because my heart, my love, is breaking, cracks and fissures quietly appearing, into pieces I become, as you sit there pleased, smiling to yourself because for you, this is punishment, admonishment that I deservedly accumulated with ease.

    But then you smile quickly – you cannot help yourself, that flash of delight that shows that you’re no longer pretending to be a harsh version of yourself, and now I realise that you were simply just playing a little game, toying with my emotions for that brief moment. Seeing how much I adore you as I crumbled before you, until you lovingly uttered my name.

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


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    Illustration inspired by a reference photo:

    Shutterstock image: 146245403, artist: Xanya69

  • Poem: The Creepy Crawly Paint Job – 29/09/19

    Poem: The Creepy Crawly Paint Job – 29/09/19

     He creeps on prong-like legs,
     looking for something upon which he can work his paint laden head
     Because this contraption cross creepy crawly is here to transform 
     private rooms in dire straits
     one feature wall at a time.
      
     He wholly enjoys 
     no, correction,
     he experiences much mirth,
     from dipping and rolling upon the ugly outdated shades and hues
     of olden times that were deemed as more than beautiful enough.
      
     He feels and knows he is doing the world -
     or at least the owners of the rooms a great service -
     by creepy-crawly-rolling along their walls that were doing their owners an utter disservice.
      
     He knows how to carefully navigate his pointy feet away from the fresh paint
     on one occasion he’d stepped in the fresh trail
     and after being screamed at?
     Never again!
      
     From then on, his feet were placed delicately outside of the paint trail,
     he understood that to be useful he had to correct errors immediately 
     without any time for a thought to be preserved about it still;
     it had to be automatic,
    no mistakes, no fails.
      
     His method of painting also had to be methodical
     not of madness or franticness
     painting feature walls might be boring but boy
     wasn’t the enjoyment of viewing the pleased owner’s pleased eyes ultimately worth it?
      
     This is what he lives for
     to change the world of others
     arduously labouring rolling here and there
     day in and day out
     without any care for himself: 
     personal time he has done without.
      
     He wishes for others’ happiness
     he knows that to attain this that his glorious paint jobs are the solutions,
     and one-by-one he transforms the world of a couple, single, or family at a time,
     While their smiles are collective,
     Appreciative as one.

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


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  • Story example: Billy the Cheeriest Rainbow Whale – 16/07/19

    Story example: Billy the Cheeriest Rainbow Whale – 16/07/19

    Billy the Cheeriest Rainbow Whale’s life was grand.

    By Alice Well (LMH) (c)

    Billy the Cheeriest Rainbow Whale was happy, joyous as could be. He loved to smile from awakening, through the day, to the evenings, even during his breakfast, lunch and tea! He had much to be satisfied and grateful for: a wealthy relaxed life, a happy contented wife, but most of all his rainbow colouring pleased him so much that with each shimmer and sparkle he felt unique and wanted to view more. 

    They were the colours that flecked in his eyes, the abounding beauty that brightened his mood and caused a loving sigh, for wherever the rainbow would be, Billy would be most happy. He felt electrified each moment, knowing that during any ill mood a glance at his rubbery bright blubber would solve it. 

    Billy was the only rainbow coloured whale among his pod of whales, the only whale who could light the darkness without a chance to fail. He lit the way for so many wayward young male and female whales, when he redirected their poor life choices by reflecting their disabling inner lights by shining his onto theirs, assistance to rectify themselves. 

    He was a leader of sorts in the pod, without it being made official, yet one day his role here was taken down due to a useless past principle. He had performed some shameless tasks in his former life, one such an eating of pearls and clams that were others though he’d claimed them loudly as “MINE!!!” It was a secret occurrence that he was embarrassed to reveal to anyone, but a nasty such and such from his past revealed it to everyone, and thrown from grace was Billy, and now outcast from the pod, utterly saddened and alone was he.

    His wife stood by his side but the rest of the crew were beyond forgiving this Billy and chose to side with the such and such.

    So off Billy and his wife went, in search of more pleasant waters, where his efforts at reschooling the wayward youth would be appreciated, and his past neither revealed again, nor pondered. 

    In life one must preach and teach forgiveness and practice it with zeal, while others may have lived or been living with mistakes, of their current lives these mistakes should no longer be judged or frowned upon if they are living with positivity, humility and good will. If the lessons learned match the lessons which have been taught then move from the past will he or she, acceptance and self understanding and forgiveness is of most import, it is a personal locket and key. 

    By Alice Well (LMH)

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

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  • Story example: Flat the Cat – 13/07/19

    Story example: Flat the Cat – 13/07/19

    (c) by Alice Well (LMH)

    Flat the Cat was exactly that, despite sporting a large jovial bow and a head of tight curls as a feline hat. She occupied a large surface area, and when she looked at how much, she became further dismayed and would begin to shudder. For Flat was self conscious, though she need not be, she used to be young, light, carefree and much more sprightly. But the irony was this, to her kittens she used to preach, it is what is on the inside that counts, do not listen when others try to bully or negatively ‘teach’.

    For the bullies had often caused her kittens to feel down and she always wanted their moods bubbly, or at least somewhat round, a curved pleasant shape if one were to describe a mood, a bubble of sorts, rainbow coloured in hue!

    Yet here Flat was, moaning and groaning about her size, of her apparent unworthy appearance, why, she should take the negatives thoughts away, push them from her stride! For living with sadness was terribly rough, she needed a cheering up of sorts, something wonderful enough.

    So she invited her friend over, she was skilled with her paws, she manipulated and melded Flat’s hair into cascading ribbons and curls. And as Flat stared at the final project, her reflection before her very eyes, with surprise she spotted the sparkle and gleam that she thought never would be viewed or experienced again, now she made a pact and would decide. To be happy and grateful for her life, to not become self conscious of things that life had thrown in her path, in the way of her life’s ride. 

    She was perfect as she was, an exterior and interior so beautiful had she, she flipped her curls with dramatic flair and chuckled into the air sounding and feeling so pleased. 

    By Alice Well (LMH) 

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

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