Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: rhythm and rhyme

  • Poem: The Mauve Gown – 08/05/20

    I need to stop
I tell myself,
I need to stop this now,
the needle pulling through the silk,
the soft material.
 
I can’t keep sewing,
creating, making,
while my heartbeat thuds and pounds,
the danger’s lurking,
my task’s undertaken,
can I truly wear this garment loud and proud?
 
To them it announces revolt,
to me it signifies freedom,
those bright mauve tatters
sewn into sheets of beautiful layers,
ever so silken.
 
And I will wear them with pride,
without embarrassment,
no need to hide,
my fingers,
my thumbs,
pricked many a-time,
 
They will try to tear me down,
but this is not their time,
I will rejoice,
for my hard work,
all so damned sublime.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

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  • Poem: A Funny Little Poem – 26/04/20

    Poem: A Funny Little Poem – 26/04/20

    It’s three in the afternoon,
my tummy begins to grumble!
Time for a snack,
what’s on the menu?
Possible thoughts are tossed and tumbled.
 
A muesli bar?
A chocolate slice?
Caramel latte or a tea?
My stomach further grumbles:
rejection!
It seems these treats are not for me.
 
I open the fridge,
peruse available drinks and snacks,
but suddenly my eyes fall on a package
with a smiling cow upon it
and I know what I’m going to have!
 
Cheese, cheese, on crackers,
yes please,
dairy delicious and fine
and completely, utterly mine!

I’ll munch my way
through this treat and smile,
it seems far too long;
I’ve not had cheese in a while.
 
Now satisfied,
I grin from ear to ear,
my tummy complains no more,
delighted is its mood,
of this I can assure.
 
I'm no longer hungry or temperamental,
those around me should have no fear,
this little afternoon treat has raised my mood,
and that’s a stellar feat.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay  

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  • Poem: The Cat Who Dared To Dream – 28/11/19

    Poem: The Cat Who Dared To Dream – 28/11/19


     Georgette was a gracious house cat, 
     with the prettiest smile in her building.

     She was well known for 
     brightening other animals’ and people’s days,
     but inside she was always dreaming. 
      
     She wanted to be as purposeful and powerful as a lion, 
     with the courage and the heart and strength
     to face challenges with the best of all of them. 
      
     But inside she felt too meek, 
     too nice to realise that her dreams 
     could be a reality, not a only potential possibility.
      
     Because, what did it really take to be this lion 
     of which she wished to be seen as?
     Loyalty, courage, qualities of being powerful,
     personal resilience, 
     perhaps these were already within her, 
     not awaiting in store? 
      
     Perhaps she was already a lion inside,
     a strong, roaring beast who ruled her world 
     with benevolence, sweetness and kindness, 
     why, she was like this presently,
     in becoming a lion, maybe she was already there!
      
     Georgette the house cat no longer needed to 
     introvert and dream all day,
     because of her dream
     she’d achieved it,
     She was already presently there. 
      
     © 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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  • 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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  • 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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  • “Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories” Debut Story Book Available Now!

    “Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories” Debut Story Book Available Now!

    Good afternoon, all! I’m pleased to be able to present to you Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories, my debut collection of illustrated short stories. I had so much fun illustrating and writing these! Each story has a lesson or moral to be learned, with the collection being divided into three separate sections according to younger, slightly older, and older readers.

    Please click the image above to read the blurb and discover a little more about my book.

    Our Whimsical World: Illustrated Stories is available as a paperback from Gumroad, and as an e-book, and audiobook, from various retailers listed below.

    I sincerely hope you enjoy the whimsical journey.

    Lauren xo

    Available as a paperback at:

    Gumroad and various Amazon sites

    Available as an eBook at:

    Amazon Kindle | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble Nook | Kobo | Scribd | !ngido | Angus & Robertson | Mondadori

    Available as an audiobook at:

    24 Symbols

    [ https://books2read.com/oww ]

  • Fiction: The Arachnid Queen’s Deadly Songs – 27/10/19

    Fiction: The Arachnid Queen’s Deadly Songs – 27/10/19

    The Arachnid Queen weaves a web of delicate songs and spells, but this caster is known for causing perils in great a-many tales. While she crawls and creates, she plots the doom, of those unfortunate souls, lurking, unawares, waiting for her in the privacy of a stifling room. How she struts in toward them, turning this way and that, because while her spindly arachnid form is anything beyond compare, she doesn’t believe in being visually poignant, compliant nor aware.

    No, she prizes her spinning ability above them all, to be the black widow in the tales of those whom happen to helplessly trip and fall beneath her multitude of feet. She glances down at them acting so feebly – she will wrap them slowly, it will amuse her greatly, don’t you understand? It’s all so plain to see!

    And she’ll continue to lure them in like the easy prey, victims that they are, only known for wanting to be seduced by something that they secretly fear but cannot draw themselves any further from, neither walk nor run further, because her songs, the lyrics, they draw them in, such lilting, sweetly sung tunes, like the sirens pulling in the sailors to their deaths, she drags them in with such fine musicality, her deadly cadences are anything but folly.

    Would any rise above the Queen’s misdeeds? Would a victor arise, to avoid his encasing, future suffocating wrapping, simply because for the wrong being he had fallen with ease? Nothing is proven in this measure, they are all mesmerised — ears, hearts and minds — seduced by her warbling spells, until one rather bland evening the sign of the Jackal is cast across the skies: something important surely is about to befall them all.

    While the Queen lazily sits upon her throne, casually singing rhymes, tunes, trills, arpeggios, a hero-in-the-making spots his chance to escape to freedom of his own. A tear in his casing, close to his left hand, my, the Queen’s error in weaving here is uncomfortably astounding, and with a quiet ripping with his thumb he frees himself. But he will not yet leave – he refuses to do so, not without assisting the other captives in the saddening scene.

    And now here is the perfect opportunity; the Arachnid Queen has lulled herself to sleep, the devil in the details, why, they are already being seen, and with a few slashes here and there, the men escape to freedom, with the snoozing Queen entirely unaware. She will awaken with rage, I promise you this, it will be of complete and utter disrepair, and awaken the entirety of her captive kingdom.

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


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  • Story: A Race With Conniving Emu of the Bush – 26/10/19

    Story: A Race With Conniving Emu of the Bush – 26/10/19

    “I can’t fly? Well, I’ll be damned!” the bushy emu said to me. With a squawk and a wink he ran past me with great ease, a bush sprinter as proud as can be.

    He then returned quickly as he could.

    “What do you say to a little race?” he suggested coercively, “The winner gets to sample all the fine tastes of the Bush’s delicacies.”

    I wracked my brains for what these delicacies could be and whether they would suit my palette, but after understanding that this emu was offering up fruits and seeds, I was pleased as punch to verse this bird who carried upon his face such a cheeky permanent grin as his habit.  

    “Ready, set,” he uttered, and before saying “Go” he sprinted away from the scene, the dust billowing in my widened eyes, shocked at the audacity of this bird which had just been seen.

    Still, I began the race after fairly uttering my version of the starter’s “Go”, and ran and ran as fast as my tiny little human legs could push me forth, struggling as I had never ever known.

    But on my path, I noticed the Emu of the Bush; he had fallen down, sprained his ankle. He was flat on his toosh. I was horrified, he looked in such pain. If I were an untoward being I could have continued on with the race, being the reigning victor without any complaint.

    However, I was not of that type, I was empathetic to his plight, and from my backpack I carried everywhere, I removed my first aid kit, removed a bandage and upon his ankle it was tightly applied.

    Tentatively he stood, gingerly on his sore foot, but then with a grin, he realised he could still run with some ease. And off he trotted, ahead of me, towards the end of the race’s scene.

    I was devastated, I could barely lift my jaw from the floor, but I resumed my style of a slow human run, impeded by a sense of an ego made sore. Again, I spotted him having fallen by the side of the path but this time I wouldn’t, did not stop, and through the discussed ending of the race did I reach with a victorious laugh.

    It was only then that Emu caught up, fossicked in the brush for my prize: a large handful of small stones known as gizzard stones, which assisted emus with grinding up their meals.

    It seemed that today both of us had been taught a lesson or two.

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


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  • 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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