Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: writing

  • Poetry and Prose: Shedding Her Print – 07/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: Shedding Her Print – 07/10/19

    Photo by Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well

    Unlike a leopard that will never change its spots, this girl has shed her spotted print. She has altered her life for the better, she has cast aside those undesirable traits which lurked within. She is different now, careful, yet carefree, light as a feather. Her heart and mind are filled with gladness, there is nothing to cause her to be grumbled and sour nor overly candid.

    Unlike that leopard which will forever hold its spots, she has deterred herself from behaviours that are unnecessary, unnoteworthy, and which had not aided her plight, nor changed her for the better. Now she is wholesome in goodness, rested in the night and brightened in the day. There is little she yearns for, because she has them provided for her and by her in many and most ways.

    In her world she searches for moments of true happiness, sparkles in her eyes, plucked from the skies by fingertips eager for more twinkling light, and she carries these sparks inside of her, releases them inside her billowing heart, large enough and large enough it becomes, for her world which was often torn apart.

    Now she holds so many sparkling love-bugs, brightness inside her chest, that she smiles to herself, secretively loving the fact that she has her own collection, to keep them at their best. Where she will nurture their glistening hopeful selves, reminding her to cherish everything tiny and immaculate, whether minute or precious within her world, and live with the understanding that some human leopards can shed their prints even at the worst of times.

    After all, it’s only a pattern, and a habit can be formed in so many days, how easy enough it has been to displace her negative traits, and place herself within a desirable loving stage.

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


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  • Poetry and Prose: Symphonies of Kindness – 06/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: Symphonies of Kindness – 06/10/19

    Feel those interlacing melodies, the interwoven harmonies rise and fall, like a spectacular swarm of hungry, eager bees, starved from Autumn and Winter, waiting for the buds of Spring to appease them all. These melodic bees enter the symphony as they desire, lifting and lilting with their buzzes strictly moving from flower to flower. The pollen dirties their legs, but, they do not mind, they are not self-conscious, neither are they abashed, because they love the dirty work as much as any other insect, except these can rise far higher than any other with a set task at hand.

    And like these precious hungry bees, I speak to you, begging for nourishment. For my meal of sustenance, and for my deep-seeded hunger to be fulfilled and cause a whirlwind of taste-bud excitement and delight. Others would not feed me their love, they starved me, in fact, they took from my heartfelt feelings and left me broken and bruised, a gaping hole in my stomach and soul, from associating with people who didn’t deserve the true Me that I was offering them. Had I offered my heart to you? Did you laugh as I despaired at losing the presence of you?

    But now I can hear that buzzing, accompanying a melodious male voice, speaking of acceptance, duality, and kindness, symphonies of smiling adoration and knowingness. You have taken me into your life, made music out of the lullabies I sung to thee, and with your arm around me, we sing together now, accompanied by our symphony of precious bees. Because their pollen will fertilise the flowers, make them bloom, blossom, grow, for many hours, and with their colourful additions into the scene, you and I can travel hand in hand to places we’ve never thought to have been.

    Our armour has been displaced upon the ground; unwanted, unnecessary, and now unknown. Because, in you, my love has been found.

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


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  • Poem: The Ribbon-Twirling Dancing Dolly – 06/10/19

    Poem: The Ribbon-Twirling Dancing Dolly – 06/10/19

     She joyously twirls bright ribbons yet feels dead inside,
     With a knowledge that what was once there, 
     Fresh-faced, bright, youthful, still alive,
     Is now broken, irreparable,
     Scattered in pieces upon the stage,
     An urban pavement,
     Nothing to show for the destruction,
     No sense of inner pride or holding her head up high.
      
     Her dolly-brightness is a façade
     The light and shade a humorous method
     At relaying that inside she is still ignited
     Still burning with life;
     One only has to look at her lack of brightened eyes
     To take in this scene with a sense of absent mirth.
      
     Oh, how she could have reached the heights
     Become more than she had ever been
     How she could have flown into the hemisphere
     Succeeding and achieving at building a life
     Of her own.
      
     But here she is
     Dead as a doornail because of the path that she chose,
     To vacuously entertain and be admired rather than use her mind, 
     To exercise the chemistry of her intelligent brain

     For a while she was simply an amusement
     A joke
     Something mocked behind open hands 
    Just something to be viewed in passing
    upon the set stage.

     But with time, hopefully she’ll rectify her life
     Breathe in once more
     And live a great freedom, a life
     Without recollection of that strife.
      
     Because dollies are meant to play
     Entertain their owners 
     Give them joy for hours upon days
     And seemingly there is nothing wrong
     With amusing another
     When it is performed with great respect of oneself
     And with an allowance of renewed life and vigour.
      
     Thus, with her self-justification and self-talk
     She feels less dead inside now,
     Her stitched-shut eyes now become visible once more,
     Brightened with the knowledge 
     that her presence is again wanted
     She is popular,
     Not cast aside onto the floor. 
      
     A renewed sense of popularity,
     A chance to regain a zest for life,
     To provide them with who she was meant to be -
     Now,
     She throws down her ribbons
     Which kept her bound and down.

     Altered, affected and no longer ill at ease
     She strives for something more,
     Something less vapid,
     A role in life where she could be
     Acknowledged as being more than what she’d been designed for,
    Her eyes are finally open enough to see.

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


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  • Poem: A Mirror of Blossoming Colours – 05/10/19

    Poem: A Mirror of Blossoming Colours – 05/10/19

     Stardust, starlight and blossom so bright,
     A mention of colours I see tonight
     Be they bold, subdued, or delicate, or brutal,
     I see them;
     Internally, I can feel them. 
      
     It is as though each colour has an emotion, 
     I assign a meaning to each shade, each hue,
     Only I absorb their meanings, 
     I can hear them,
     Can they feel my appreciation, too? 
      
     Like a beautiful tropical bloom in my sight,
     The combinations become heightened 
     As my emotions grow in power,
     There is nothing beyond my colours, 
     but an ephemeral fog which will last and obscure us 
     for a little while longer. 
      
     But the shades, oh, the shades, 
     How they make me feel such tender turmoil,
     Their assigned meanings remind me of
     The yearning years
     Where I was delicate and life was anything but simple.
      
     Where I ached for someone to truly notice my colours
     The uniqueness that my vibrancy displayed,
     How I wasted many years chasing other shades
     Not suited to me,
     Monochromatic in shade. 
      
     I thought they were right,
     I thought they would complement me,
     But my hues were too flamboyant and different,
     I wasn’t accepted -
     Always viewed as something other than wanted
     Usually indifferently, 
     An undesirable, unpopular oddity. 
      
     But now I can bloom with brilliance
     Just like this summoned flower before me
     In fact, it is as though it is my mirror
     Reflecting myself back at me.
      
     I no longer need to hide away,
     I can blossom and shine without doubt
     Without feeling afraid,
     The absence of approval is easy enough to do without,
     And my true self I do not need to disguise or hide away.

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


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  • Poem: Finding Your Footing – 05/10/19

    Poem: Finding Your Footing – 05/10/19

     There may be occasions where you’ve lost your footing, 
    in fact, many times, possibly. 
    Where your legs and feet scrabble for a holding, 
    a firmer footing, to cease the potential of falling deep, deep below. 

    When your heart is almost in your mouth, 
    the fear is palatable, tastes of thick iron rust,
    the bloodied mess that is your broken organ, 
    still beating, but a complete and utter mess. 

    There may be occasions where you slip and fall, 
    into the abyss of the great unknown, 
    speaking of darkness and unsureness 
    and times of great distress and unknowing. 
     
    These, my friends, are occasions which enable learning, 
    where you can take what you will from the putrid or frightening moments, 
    and make of them something worthwhile, 
    a learning process where you drag yourselves up 
    and out of the murky dark.

    The strength of character displayed from 
    when you fall and how you pick ourselves up demonstrates a 
    certain strong will and determination 
    that I know you must be proud of possessing. 

    Because darlings, I know that you can make it 
    through these pains, these issues, 
    You’ve done it before, 
    And you can do it again. 
    Just listen to your aching heart and plaster it with bandages of courage; 
    You’ll make it in the end.  

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


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  • Poem: Apparition in the Night – 04/10/19

    Poem: Apparition in the Night – 04/10/19

     The apparition comes in the dead of night
     One unblinking unnerving pupil
     A ghastly flowing body
      
     He enters my dreams soundlessly
     Through the cavities of my broken mind he travels quite efficiently.
     Never ceasing to amaze,
     This apparition knows how to communicate entirely wordlessly.
      
     How he emphasises his point
     Drives into the ground his defiance
     That his phantasmagoric appearance is required
     For with the night he has made an alliance.
      
     Tucked away within my mind is he
     The corners and avenues where he travels does he
     Knowing solely what he is looking for
     That one key for opening that mighty blocking locked door. 
      
     Then my secrets will spill forth,
     All, the lot of them
     To be viewed, 
     To be sifted through by him.
      
     He will never find that key
     Never, not even in my weakened state of sleep
     My dreams now provide a barrier
     Impenetrable they are, 
     No gaps, the lock is heavy, wrought, and my intention for it complete. 
      
     Phantom, you may now take leave of this scene,
     Your presence is unrequired here, 
     Your expulsion is as exactly as it seems.

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


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  • Poetry and Prose: Myself as the Other – 03/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: Myself as the Other – 03/10/19

    Sometimes, oftentimes, I’d wonder why. Why was I so awkward, so different, so quiet, so damned shy? I’d go through life wanting to avoid the stilted conversations, the dialogue that barely went beyond the obligatory “How are you?” “Good, thanks,”, and a cheery but weak-willed, “That’s good!”, knowing that it wouldn’t go much further than this point, this query and mildly obvious revelation.

    Would I ever become comfortable enough in myself to mix easily with other people: strangers, unknown beings? Or would I be forever in discomfort, eyes begging for a means of escape, where I could go without needing to be obvious about my need to be alone and contemplate?

    But then new experiences came along, fresh faces, different names, all a whirlwind of growing conversations and opportunities, explosions of learned moments within my mind. And I became more comfortable, at ease with myself and others, although I never learned to be completely as secure and comfy as I did with myself as the other.

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


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  • Poetry and Prose: A Lilt in My Rhyme, Thank You Very Much – 03/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: A Lilt in My Rhyme, Thank You Very Much – 03/10/19

    “A lilt in my rhyme, thank you very much,” I order, not ask.

    “You’ve got it, lady,” the bartender says, and turns his back to me. He commences his current task.

    Lady? Lady? I think to myself. I’ve never been called that in my life, at least not that I can recall. Sure, baby, honey, and so forth, but never a full-blown lady.

    The bottles and glasses clink and the blender whirls, the cocktail shaker with its ice cubes makes a nice heavy thud all of their own, and I, smiling to myself rest my chin in my hand, looking as pleasant as could be for my first date with What’s-His-Name. These dates are always the same; same formula, same format, just different person, different name. I’d rather a lilt in my rhyme than an extended purr to my name, and by goodness was I going to achieve this wish, one and the same.

    He shows in the doorway. My heart beats frantically. This one looks like a catch. My date approaches me with a great air of confidence.

    “What are you drinking, my lady?” There’s that word again.

    “A lilt in my rhyme, why do you ask?” I reply with a cheeky grin.

    “I do like them feisty,” he says, a twinkle present in his eye. And how do you think the night will unwind?

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


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  • Poem: Crashing Waves – 03/10/19

    Poem: Crashing Waves – 03/10/19

     The waves hurl themselves onto the rocky shore
     As though on a suicide mission
     I wonder what it would be like to feel those jagged edges biting me
     Protruding through the breaking waves
     Their strangled sounds strangely comfort me.
      
     I dare to reach forth
     One step at a time
     A momentous awakening has come about this healing time.
      
     And like how I come to the sand for serenity and to show respect,
     myself, I blossom inside
     feeling and breathing good health.

     the racing thoughts in my mind
     the strange understandings still in place
     will eventually be wiped away
     replaced with thoughts more socially acceptable and commonplace.
      
     But I will not lose my vigour nor my ardour 
     Learning more of discovery, healing and self-respect
     The waves continue to crash
     My eyes divert from the scene as they capture human movement
     Ah, there he is: 
     I almost thought he wouldn’t make it.

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


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  • Poetry and Prose: Swinging Stages of Creation – 02/10/19

    Poetry and Prose: Swinging Stages of Creation – 02/10/19

    I go through stages with my words, my artworks, my creations. Lighthearted, jovial, childish antics. Then I’ll swing to the right, suddenly serious and in love, purging myself of the almost-sickeningly sweet tastes I have devoured when fed adoration from his gifting hand above. I swoon, how I swoon, when together we are in my words.

    Where to next? Maybe back to the storytelling, the longer expressions of my mind and imagination, the telling of tales, freshly beginning? Or should I remain where I also now find myself comfortable, no more humorous creature poems to be spoken of, instead remaining in the flight of heady love, my expression of how we once were and how we now always are? Should I speak for you, address my intentions, of encouraging you, inspiring you, to accept who you are, self-acceptance internally wrought, prompted, but also heaven-sent?  

    Or shall I not plan, but write as my heart desires? I have many tales to share, many worlds to recollect and connect, my arms can only reach out for so many, but I hope to reach you all, with my heart of hearts I hope to reach you, to speak to you all. I aim to express my heartfelt emotions, my best, to produce what I can with no judgemental pointing or disapproving voices. But because I know there is always the presence of that type, I shall smile in my whimsy, and dance the night away, critical beings I shall not acknowledge, instead I shall dream where I now comfortably lay.

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


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