Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: poetry

  • Poem: Awakening – 27/11/19

    Poem: Awakening – 27/11/19

     The loneliness is incredible,
     with my heart an empty vessel,
     who to confide in?
     who to reach for?
     When I ache inside,
     wishing, wishing for more.
      
     To be understood,
     not unfairly judged,
     acknowledged,
     not cast aside or looked upon with a negative view.
     It’s as simple as realising sometimes, 
     an understanding embrace with no words is enough.
      
     My woven creations may be catastrophes 
     to some,
     but for others
     perhaps they are their lingering answers.
      
     Certain events which should not be shared,
     is this reality a truth?
     Why should I be ashamed to speak of
     my former agonising, 
     my anguishing pains,
     or what I went through behind the scenes,
     behind those doors,
     and beneath those evil sockets?
      
     Are my experiences too triggering,
     should I be silenced?
     Should I not dare to speak?
     But nonsense!
     I will utter my truths and even in the silences
     I will allow the listener to truly feel.
      
     Because after over a decade of being 
     what the world could only call a despicable mess,
     I can call myself a survivor. 
      
     Mentally speaking, I’ve reached that glorious healthy plateau,
     And if I want them to, I could allow 
     deliciously proud tears to run down my cheeks,
     my hiccoughing sobs to carry others 
     to my secretive room, 
     my precious pride of place.
      
     For the time for mourning what has been acquired 
     or what has been lost has long passed,
     I am free, at least less encumbered,
     and I now need to be brave and not hold anyone’s hand,
     because I will make it, 
     and as for this loneliness, this too, shall pass. 
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. all rights reserved.

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  • Story: The Loneliest Duck in the World – 25/11/19

    Story: The Loneliest Duck in the World – 25/11/19

    A masquerading duck has arrived at the scene. She likes to make her appearances special, with a long duration since her former showing. Here at these magnificent balls she is desperate to make a splash! Because this masquerading duck is so beautiful and loves to dance and chat.

    What is the point in her arrivals, her persistence in being seen? To some she’s just a useless hen who seems to do nothing more than gabble and preen. She is viewed by others as a selfish socialite, but they couldn’t be any more wrong in their assertions; she simply wishes to be viewed in bright light, surrounded by the deep depth of darkness within these nights.

    She should not be judged for marrying the richest drake on earth, with him having been three times her age he had passed away well before she was meant to leave this earth herself. And she was lonely in her world without his love: she had no ducklings to raise, no adult ducks to praise and advise, so what she loved to do instead was be with others throughout the exciting nights.

    In these masquerade balls she dances with such ease, she lifts her wings and flaps and glides, as delicate as you can please. And when it comes to her making small conversation, chit-chat, if you will, with her outgoing sociable awaiting bird friends, she doesn’t hesitate in her generosity to buy them champagne in flutes, gin and tonics, and wine in beautiful glasses to brighten the mood. Although she is lonely and eccentric, here she is, being appreciated in this scene the most.

    Then when she will leave these premises in the light of dawn, she will remove her garb, her showy harness and her mask, and there she will be, tired, but happy, and nervously awaiting the next event. She will be too excited to experience and share some more with many of her lively friends.

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

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  • ‘Where I Ache’ Poetry Collection Review and Interview with the Poet, Megan O’Keeffe

    ‘Where I Ache’ Poetry Collection Review and Interview with the Poet, Megan O’Keeffe

    I found Megan O’Keeffe’s poetry collection Where I Ache a moving and relatable read which I enjoyed immensely. Arranged into six sections labelled as “My Foggy Head”,  “My Weak Spine”, “My Bruised Heart”, “My Grieving Knees”, “My Greedy Green Eyes”, and “My Soothing Arms”, Megan explores the self and her world in terms of mental health, addiction, love, acceptance, loss and death in beautiful and poignant poems and phrasings, as well as moments of boldness and firm articulations. Her sparing use of italics and bold font allow certain points to be felt stronger or driven home for the reader. I found the use of these elements were well employed and added to the reading experience. I also enjoyed viewing the accompanying images by Kevin Furey, as I feel that it’s nice to have a visual attached to poems at times.    

    I found myself able to identify with and relate to many of the themes and poems Megan has written about, and could feel her pain, suffering, joy, and love bounce forth to me from the pages. Her sense of aching is there to be seen, and her open vulnerability to the readers is very touching. It’s something I also found humbling, that I was being allowed into her private world, an open door for me to enter. With a raw and honest style, she quietly and beautifully details her inner strengths as well as what she views as her inner demons.

    Her poetry touched me on many levels, in that I felt an affinity towards the topics and feeling she has detailed, as I have experienced similar myself. I draw attention to the poem “Hey You”, where she is striving to be enough for another – “Am I good enough for you now?” repeated over and over,  really touched me; it’s something that hit home with me. So too did this line in “Fragile” – “I don’t handle criticism well and I handle compliments even worse”. Additionally, I adored the visual of her line in “No Quick Fix”: “flaws and flowers, a garden growing in my heart, I want to bloom for you”.

    Megan’s work emphasises that no matter whether there are dark or painful times, there is still hope and love in life to be able to carry on seeking and experiencing. That change is not something to shy away from, and learning from the past will carry us through.

    –Reviewed by Lauren M. Hancock

    And now let us share some words with Megan herself, and get to know the poet a little more.

    What did you learn after publishing Cracked Open that you implemented for Where I Ache?

    I basically just organized Cracked Open and published it. It was my first publication so I knew nothing and I also had finally worked up the courage after years of telling myself not to publish, so I didn’t want to lose my nerve. But from my first publication, I learned the importance of beta readers, taking the time to build buzz before launching such as blog tours, and using ARCs to get the word out to readers ahead of time. 

    What do you hope readers will take away from your newest collection Where I Ache?

    I hope my readers will feel a sense of community with these sensitive topics that normally make them feel alone. I hope they find strength and comfort in that support.

    What’s the biggest mistake you’ve made as a writer? 

    My biggest mistake as a writer was probably not believing in myself and taking so long to put myself out there. I never thought I’d be writing past high school and I definitely didn’t think my blog Debatably Dateable would last more than a few, short months.  It took me a long time to start promoting my work and grow my audience. It’s hard to promote yourself, it feels a bit unnatural. Don’t be afraid to try all means of marketing – social, email, print, and networking.

    What do you hope to accomplish in your writing endeavors?

    I hope to continue publishing poetry books for many years to come so that readers can find support and community through my collections. I also hope to publish in different writing styles and genres.

    Blog: http://debatablydateable.com

    Twitter: https://twitter.com/DDateable

    Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/megokeeffewriting/

    Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44444533-where-i-ache

    Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Megan-OKeeffe/e/B07D24KQ7L?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1554267881&sr=8-1

    Disclaimer: Megan and I traded copies of our books in exchange for fair and honest reviews.

  • 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: Fruit and Veg – 22/11/19

    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.

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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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  • 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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  • Poem: My Peasant Fairy Godmother – 18/11/19

    Poem: My Peasant Fairy Godmother – 18/11/19

     My peasant fairy godmother,
     so round and delicate and wise,
     an orb and an orb unto herself,
     she flies to me through the skies.
      
     To provide me assistance,
     to provide me with hope
     she waves her hands and magically 
     provides me with her delicate scope
      
     of wisdom and inner strength
     of power and enhanced desire
     she touches my nose with her glistening wand
     and I cry out:
     “I can finally leave home!”
     I possess the power. 
      
     Because my desire, my mission,
     is to not leave to meet my prince,
     my desire is to be self-sufficient, 
     to create a world, a home for myself,
     among the whistling trees,
     beneath the glistening stars,
     underneath the warming moon
     which smiles upon me with ease.
      
     Now I need not run from my duties,
     of attending to many others,
     of being on my hands and knees,
     cleaning up after my sisters.
      
     I now know I have the power to 
     walk away from the muck,
     it is not my responsibility,
     I can now work Life out on my own,
     according to my own internal clock. 
      
     It is brave of me to do away
     with the burdening system that kept me away
     from obtaining a sense of freedom
     where I was always downtrodden.
      
     In my new rich silk and satin blue gown
     I will run from the lot of them,
     My life is now my own.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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  • Poem: Into the Mirror – 16/11/19

    Poem: Into the Mirror – 16/11/19

     He stares at himself: 
 who is this being he has become?
 He barely recognises the shapes, the forms,
 the features which make up his fasmall-poem-mobilece.
 Now, they are a conglobulation,
 his eyes scan the scene,
 a personal level of understanding
 of what is occurring beneath the surface of 
 lucid dreaming.
  
 His mind is in tatters,
 his anger explosive, 
 A feeling of overwhelming loss of control,
 his triggers, oh, those triggers.
 Abounding his sense of being,
 ripping his heart out, 
 either broken or whole;
 he’s completely lost all sense of control. 
  
 His face now shape-shifts, 
 as though a desert mirage,
 strangely he feels a tip-tip-tapping at his head,
 his crown,
 and he wonders at these, 
 are they delusions?
 Or are they borne in reality?
 He cannot be himself right now,
 because his understanding of who he is
 is no longer so upstanding. 
  
 He pierces his gaze into his right eye
 and then the left,
 hoping to calm himself
 or at least instill a sense of order —
 perhaps rigid or subtle
 but wholly still there.
  
 He knows what process he is undergoing,
 For him, it is brought on by stress, 
 A psychosis long having been in the making,
 He is in the eye of the cycle now.
  
 He won’t tell anyone close to him 
 what he is experiencing,
 the suffering and angst that he is feeling,
 because that is how he is, 
 he’s introverted and with inner feeling,
 not wanting to burden others with
 his sense of broken state of being.
  
 No matter how much he might yearn for
 a level of understanding
 or care,
 he does not receive this because of his situation
 others are not aware.
  
 They are not sure what is wrong with him
 but his anger, oh his anger does give rise
 to something purely animalistic,
 and now having revealed his state of mind to another,
 the understanding ticks over, it arrives in ample time. 
  
 He is strong for holding himself quietly
 while he attempts and succeeds at fixing himself,
 but when it comes to issues of mental health,
 one must not take it upon themselves to reduce dosages,
 essentially self-medicating oneself.
  
 The man now in the mirror with his mediation is strong,
 he has permitted the real being to return, 
 he’s gladdened his essence has come back along,
 no longer having to control the 
 rising sense of discomfort and lack of control 
 he had experienced as a whole. 
  
 © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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