Tag: writing

Poem: My Body is a River – 30/08/20

My body is a river,
I rush over you,
soothing as a salve or balm,
running over your pebbles,
smoothing their jagged forms.
 
My delicate hands dance,
my currents rise and fall,
to you,
my body is a river,
with my flow
I can cure you of all.
 
Aching, yearning,
pain which must be departing,
despairing,
depression,
lonely,
to cleanse you of these is my calling.
 
So, my liquid licks and laps
against your shore,
the in-between where
hunger and pain are raw,
unknown, a certain calling,
your fingers reach for me,
I flush you with calm respite,
truthful news,
release from your gloom.
 
You no longer suffer,
you are brave
for having survived your internal ravaging,
but because my body is a river,
you were permitted this vital saving.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Jessica Furtney on Unsplash

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Poem: Quelled – 22/08/20

Night time should promise depth,
and warmth, and promises,
whispers of sweet tomorrows, and
tight caresses,
dreams, and deep rest,
instead: 
three hour’s sleep,
then wide awake in the same evening,
sleeping for half hour shifts,
then rising, eyes searching for the time,
wishing it were later, silently begging.
 
This sleep pattern is skewed,
it is all over the place,
I am suffering each night,
nocturnal, without wishing to rise so early or late,
what I would give for a solid night’s sleep,
my eyes are bloodshot,
dreary,
if I could stomach something
I’d surely feel less queasy,
and truth be told,
I just need proper sleep,
I could pop an extra pill and it would all be so easy,
but I am reducing this aid,
and this is a sure sign
that my mind needs adjusting,
to create chemicals to 
replace what the medicine
provided to quell my overactive mind.

But when I rise at six in the morning, 
after an hour of amazing uninterrupted rest,
I feel bright and satisfied that my body was 
exhausted enough to bless me with that extra slumber - 
I feel close to what could be this morning's very best,
and I know that later in the day I'll rest some more,
it's not so bad, after all,
just I'm living in a strange topsy-turvy style.

At least I'm getting some rest, 
it all adds up, 
better than never ever sleeping at all or never enough.

It'll only be temporary,
this topsy-turvy, Nocturnal Me,
I've been on this med for years,
how could I expect it to be undone so easily?
   
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Ann Danilina on Unsplash

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Poem: A Lasso on my Heart – 15/08/20

I’ve got a lasso on the moon and I’m holding him
so close to me,
his glow causes me such 
excitement and trembling,
because my hold on the moon is tight, 
though it is gentle enough to be kind,
and I know that our love for one another,
it is spectacular, it feels utterly right.
 
And here resides a man in the moon, why, he curses and scorns,
he is jealous of the Moon's and my love
thinking that I am set to take Moon away,
quietly, he is right,
I vow to snatch Moon from him with all my might.
 
This is not to say this man in the moon will be extracted,
nor will he be sent away to a land of unknown,
he can remain if he wishes to do so,
but he must understand my love for Moon is more
than he can ever have thought he’d be capable of performing,
let alone feel or inherently know.
 
I have a lasso on the moon but the moon has a lasso on my heart,
it seems like we’ll forever be entwined,
and never shall we part.
 
Moon smiles at me gently, and he wisely says,
“We must keep Man in the Moon wrapped within our hearts,
because if not, it is cruel to hurt another being's soul that way.”
 
I cry, “If only the pesky man in the moon would accept his relegation,
it’s not so harsh,
it’s simply a slight demotion.”
 
But Moon shakes his head, beams sadly now, and holds my hand,
“Our love cannot last a second longer, if you’re unwilling to accept the man,”
and with a gentle tug, up and away goes the lasso from around my luminous love.
 
He and his friend rise like a balloon into the night sky,
and take pride of place where everyone can all share in admiring their spirited light.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Altınay Dinç on Unsplash

This poem has been written in response to Manic Sylph’s Writing Prompt #77, “I’ve got a lasso on the moon”. I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!

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Poem: Shades of Purple – 05/08/20

Purple is royal, regal,
it is crushed velvet pressed against my cheek,
purple is for kings and queens,
and princesses in lilac who walk among
the public, blessing them in busy streets.
 
Sashes of light purple are for
accomplishments,
university achievements,
and musical delights,
I remember earning my purple sash,
I was so proud to have worn it that night.
 
Purple is lavender, rubbed between hungry, famished fingers,
eager for that scent that bees delve into
for lunch and for their dinner,
 
purple is a passionfruit cheekily disguising its tart insides,
purple is the joy of a restaurant’s purple mascot –
children cannot wait,
so excited,
much anticipation for Party Time!
 
Purple is a soldier’s heart,
for men and women fallen in combat,
and purple is for spirituality,
in fact, purple feeds my creativity,
this hue so powerful that hearts and minds and eyes
will rise with great potency.
 
I clothe myself in purple,
though I do not wish myself to achieve nobility,
I cloak myself in this shade,
this hue,
because it feels right to do so for me.
 
These wide sleeves of velvet,
I wrap the material around me,
I cannot feel anything but bliss,
it flows through me freely.
 
I am now purple, purple, purple,
I am at one with this colour,
everything it represents,
I may be, I may not be,
but truthfully,
inside, I feel a raging fire,
 
some metaphorical power
must have sent
for me, to announce upon me this very hour.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Orlova Maria on Unsplash

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The Liebster Award Nomination – Discover More Blogs!
I am forever grateful to https://awayfromthemaddingcrowdblog.wordpress.com/ for nominating me for the Liebster Award. I discovered her blog through another nominee and her style of writing drew me in immediately. I look forward to seeing more of her work as time goes on!

Liebster is a German word which means different variations of similar sentiments: darling, honey, dearest, friend, sweetheart; and I find this award so endearing because it enables us to show our appreciation for not only the work of, but also our dearest writers, bloggers, poets, artists, as our friends and comrades, and encourage each other to keep working at our craft, and sharing what we have to offer the world.

I have been blogging for a year now, and I love how WordPress is such a close-knit community of support, creativity, and honesty. I always look forward to posting each day, sometimes multiple times, and I am so appreciative of the interaction I have with my readers and followers.

I am glad I am now able to pass on my appreciation for these eleven bloggers who I have nominated.

The Rules
1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and add a link to their blog
2. Answer the 11 questions given to you
3. Nominate 11 bloggers that you think deserves the award
4. Ask 11 innovative questions to the ones you have nominated
5. Remember to notify your nominees once you have uploaded your acknowledgement post
My Nominations

The Flippant, Comic, and Serious – https://donmatthewspoetry.com – a fellow Australian writer whose work is witty, short and on point with his delivery.

Lemongrass – https://shrubaboti.wordpress.com/ – I love Shruba’s style, her voice speaks to me.

The Waves of Poetry – https://thewavesofpoetry.com/ – beautifully presented visual poetry.

Laura Saxby Sketchbook – https://laurasaxby.wordpress.com/ – an Australian artist whose intricate artwork I adore.

I’m The Computer Guy – https://michaelxjohnson.wordpress.com/ – a talented white-hat hacker detailing the journey of honing his craft.

Mybookworld24 – https://mybookworld24.com/ – I enjoy Alex’s beautiful and often candid poems, and his book posts.

Danielle Adams – https://danielle-adams.com/ – A blog with great literary tips and links to publishing opportunities.

LaurenWritesToo – https://laurenwritestoo.com/ – Lauren’s work is lovely, and she draws me into her world.

Murray Robertson (Photography and Poems) –

https://mrobertsonphotosandpoems.wordpress.com/ – I am a new follower of Murray’s and am enjoying his work immensely.

The Sad Owl – https://thesadowl.com – Thoughtful, moving poetry which flows with gentle ease.

Daydreaming as a Profession – https://drbogdan.home.blog/ – great poems with often unexpected plot twists at the end!
1. What is the story behind your blog name?
My blog started off as Alice Well Art, as I was going by both my artist name of Alice Well (a play on “all is well”) as well as my actual name. After I published my book, I began bridging into more serious, personal poetry and decided that the Alice Well side no longer fit. Hence, Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose was created.
1. Why did you start blogging?
I love writing and being creative, and when I started my blog, I wanted to share my short stories along with my soft pastel illustrations. I wanted to have an outlet to share my words and art with others, to become part of a community and read other writers’ works, and to view their art, too.
1. What is your favourite colour and why?
Pink, most certainly, as a vibrant, lively colour, I used to wear it all the time as I feel it is a complimentary colour to myself because it would brighten my mindset, but these days, I lean more toward wearing black – I know it’s a shade, not a colour.
1. Who is your favourite superhero and why?
I don’t have one.
1. Movies or TV-Series? Why?
Probably TV-series as I have trouble concentrating for long periods of time lately.
1. What do you do to de-stress?
To de-stress, I write. Pouring my feelings out certainly helps. In saying that, when I’ve stressed myself, it could be because I’m writing!
1. How do you prepare for your writing?
I don’t prepare, I just sit at the computer, hope for a good starting phrase, and off I go. Although, sometimes I may look up prompts when I’m stuck.
1. What are your other interests besides writing?
It depends on my mood. I could indulge myself in making a little art, read some poetry online, play a video game, talk to a friend, vent about something that’s on my mind, or perhaps go for a walk.
1. If you could travel to a place you have never been to before, where would you go and why?
I’m bit of a homebody and I don’t like venturing too far away from comfort, so even a nice park that I’ve not been to before for an afternoon picnic will make me happy.
1. Have you been heartbroken? How were you able to move on?
I have been heartbroken, by someone who didn’t care that I’d continually handed him my heart. It took time, and time away from being around and thinking of that person, distracting myself with other things. And it took me realising I was worth more than how I was being treated to be able to truly move on.
1. Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?
I think with soulmates, that is a tricky one. Some could say they’re the makings of Hollywood; others could say they are a cosmic reality, each other’s destiny. I’m not so sure. What I do know is we find others in our world who we connect with, whether on a spiritual, mental, or physical level – sometime all three – and we make the most of our time together.

My Questions for my Nominees

1.      What is the main reason you decide to write or create every day?

2.      If you had the opportunity to be a sought-after ghostwriter your entire working life, or only write your absolute honest and rawest truths for all to see, which would you choose, and why?

3.      What colour clothing would you select to pick up your mood if you felt angry or depressed by a situation?

4.      What is your go-to comfort food when you are feeling glum?

5.      What is one person or thing you cannot live without, and why?

6.      Who has been your biggest champion in terms of you chasing your dreams?

7.      How do you measure success?

8.      You have received a puppy or kitten for your birthday! What breed would it be?

9.      What is something you do to unwind from a long, stressful day?

10.   What is or would be your ideal writer’s or artist’s getaway?

11.   What would you like to best be known for?
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August 5, 2020

Poem: You Can’t Be Here – 31/07/20

You can’t be here, she tells me,
her mocking voice, her stuck out tongue.
Yeah, you can’t be here! another girl joins in,
you’re not wanted here,
won’t you learn?
 
My eyes become downcast, I shuffle away,
my upper back curved, I want to shrink,
disappear,
I’ll let them have the final say.
 
I don’t know why I’m so undesirable,
this group is cruel, I only have one cause –
to be loved and accepted and appreciated for who I was,
because now, I am falling apart.
 
With each taunt, each nasty means of bringing me down,
you can’t be here, you can’t be here their words ring,
I want to wring the danger away from my heart,
the warning siren’s sound.
 
Because part of me wants to hurt,
to annihilate,
though I am not vicious,
not violently inclined,
but how nice it would be to erase their memories,
cause hurt, anger, and other feelings,
to replace their nasty words of their days.

It is as though I am unworthy,
unworthy of being within their friendship group,
and what, and why?
I simply wanted to be seen for who I am,
who I was, too.
 
These two forms of me are different,
one naïve and gullible, and the other jaded,
yet saddened and broken,
slightly hostile,
what is it I am meant to do?
 
To repair myself will take time,
and to expose myself further to them will
cause my soul to divide,
but I yearn for their acceptance, their precious time,
though it’s really worth nothing,
or at least should be worth nothing as compared to mine.  

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Rodolfo Quirós from Pexels

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Poem: Lovesick – 30/07/20

Lovesick…
he yearns for you,
he apparently cannot live without you.
 
Darling, can’t you tell,
won’t you comprehend,
he much he needs you?
This is not a truth which can be bent.
 
But, my sweetheart,
why does he need you?
Where is he calling from –
low, high, the hay,
but my precious, won’t you see,
that his neediness for you
reaches both night’s lapping shore 
and the brightness of your day.
 
But, of course, if he possesses this need for you,
every single moment, of every night and day,
perhaps this makes his need genuine,
and truthful,
and right,
is this not a possibility,
aren’t you swayed?
 
Do you understand that this man,
he needs you more than anything in his world?
Timely circumstances, truth be told,
your heart, extracted,
threaded,
hurled.
 
Your organ now,
he dangles it from a string,
and swings it round and around,
because, really,
he wants this game to be seen,
to show he holds concern for holding you,
whatever will these antics result in,
whatever shall they do?
 
He does not bother to extract his own heart,
to meld with the string of yours,
like a yo-yo you’re toyed with,
a sign of a desperate need,
he just wants the amusement
of love, and life, and his validity to be seen.
 
He needs you, darling,
why can you not see?
Why can't you see what he’s doing to you?
I suggest you snatch your heart from him
and willingly set yourself free.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Magdaline Nicole from Pexels

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Poem: Relocation – 30/07/20

Sometimes it’s positive to relocate,
a subtle change of scene,
a change of pace,
being stagnant,
stuck in the same room, same world
for so long,
it can drive me around the bend,
four walls enclosing on me because
 
they can do so with
the slipperiest of ease,
despite my view from above,
the wondrous blue sky,
down below, quaint houses and greenery,
 
I need an alteration at times,
stitch stitch stitch
a change of colour,
won’t you permit this
on my threaded line?
 
So, I move outside,
settle myself into place,
hear the soaring birds in their flocks,
as my heart begins to race.
 
I’ve not been outside in so long,
breathing stale air unknowingly,
my own carbon dioxide from my own body,
slowly poisoning me as I tried to breathe.
 
It’s ironic, isn’t it,
that while I dredged sorrows while
trying to expel to become free,
I essentially was breathing my very own poison,
while typing it all out also so freely.
 
But now that I am outside,
the sun permits her joyful gaze,
upon me I feel her love,
her warmth
all around me
because
 
sometimes a change of pace is what is required,
a change of scenery, more like,
I absorb the wonderful ambience out here,
and know, that of my mindset,
I have altered it in a means that’s wanted,
desired,
from this new world,
I feel its love.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Artem Beliaikin from Pexels

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Poem: Already Departed – 27/07/20

I am sick to death of this draining,
this haunted state of false reverie
where I’m lulled into a state of dumbfound and airiness,
because the flow, it has ceased, as I know it to be.
 
Beautiful melodies once soared from my throat,
from my lips,
blustering blight, I’m not at all pardoned, from losing bliss,
I appear to have lost my creative flight and drive,
of its absence, won’t someone please answer to this?
 
Soar, will those wings, the fingertips of eagles?
Mountainous sky beings which thrive and are so free,
I wonder whether my syncopation, smooth and erratic rhythms
will return,
they used to project from my energised hands and mind
with accepted and utter ease.
 
And now, I lie in my bed,
immovable, helpless, irritated by my brain’s inability to cope
with an increased stimuli,
rather than thrive, it appears to have been fried,
rather than embrace the challenge
of increasing my ability to dictate and describe
I feel I must simply wave them goodbye.
 
It appears they’ve already left,
there is no danger at facing the wrong direction
which may lead me to a path ill-sent
because there’s nothing left here to detail,
I’m drained, empty pickling jars, lined upon the shelf,
nothing to cure, nothing to consume,
little, no, nothing at all,
to scrawl, to capture, for you to view.
 
The eagle soars;
he’s already discovered another’s truths. 

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image from Pexels.

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Poem: Hibernation – 17/07/20

A calm bear,
sedated by the lulling nature of food,
excessive within his belly,
he can hide away more easily.
 
He is fattened up,
layered with furry clothing he’s
eaten and fashioned for his form,
each pair of bear-like track-pants or layered sweatshirts
are perfectly suited to him.
 
I am like this creature
but I have swallowed my words,
living off the bare minimum,
but in reality, I’ve indulged myself,
I roll around my cave
with obvious glee
because my words I am saving,
banking up,
quietly.
 
And around me, like a chain they’ve grown,
wanted links,
interwoven with themselves, their own,
I am not secured,
but I am enclosed,
though in a method I am wanting.
 
Then the links become daisy chains,
they’re delicate, adorable, agreeable,
some children might say the work of the fairies,
and while this once-lumbering bear will sleep,
I will always wear this fresh crown of linked daisies.
 
My load has been lightened,
I’m decorated with white and yellow,
and as I enter the bear’s quarters with spare flowers,
I tiptoe gently, ever so lightly,
I will make him king,
for while he temporarily sleeps,
when, disgruntled and hungry he will arise,
at least he'll have something pleasant to greet him.
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Pexels from Pixabay

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