Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: writing

  • Poem: A Resplendent Explorer – 24/09/19

    Poem: A Resplendent Explorer – 24/09/19

     A resplendent fish swims through the seas
     his angelic wings become of him
     intricate his image be 
     the seas warble fondly of him.
      
     With outstretched limbs he reaches forth
     into a mass of conical rocks of sorts
     he understands that with his fine winged hands 
     he cannot delve too deep 
     else he cauterises and causes his fateful end.
      
     A surprise! A proclamation —
     what has this beautiful thing found?
     in a world that’s utterly damning; 
      
     it’s a shock that his wings and arms are still here 
     intact and fanning
     for his secret discovery to be revealed
     to be told among those witnessing its handling.
      
     A florid limb unfolds
     revealing a tiny perfect white luminescent pearl
     with a sheen of such exquisiteness 
     it blinds those here 
     their eyes pain at its brilliance within their world.
      
     And with a little smile to himself
     the resplendent fish moves on
     clutching his treasure that will remain his
     until the moment he is captured 

     but even then, the pearl will not
     be permitted to be taken
     not from his hand will it be pried
     in death he’ll clutch until its presence ultimately
     becomes forgotten.  

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


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  • Poem: Disbelieving – 23/09/19

    Poem: Disbelieving – 23/09/19

     “Come to me,” he says, beckoning to the crowd.
     A creature with wide ears, open arms 
     and dreadfully hairy legs
     dressed in an Aztec-inspired poncho.
      
     “I have the answers to all your problems,” he promises.
     With a wave of his arms around the scene
     his eyes implore
     beg them to take it in.
      
     “See this land upon which we stand? 
     My creator, your creator
     built it grain by grain, sand and soil, compacted up and up 
     with his bare hands.”
      
     “But where is he now?” one witness calls.
     “Where is the proof of his promise to be here now?” another sneers,
     while the rest of the crowd starts to jeer.
      
     “I am here before you, 
     my words are here to ring true,
     the knowledge that all is repairable, 
     true faith will guide you through.”
      
     Still the crowd jeers, 
     how could this creature presenting himself to them
     be the one who was to preach and provide their lives’ stability,
     goodness and truth, acceptance, forgiveness and love
     these could easily be dismissed or 
     overthrown by a naïve or ignorant point of view.
      
     He attempts to speak once more,
     Explaining his role in this scene, to share pertinent truths
     not provide the others with personal gain and materialistic objects,
     yet the jeering turns into boisterous booing —
     it pains his heart to know that disbelieving unknowing beings like this existed. 
      
     So, the creature in a poncho turns his back,
     forsaking the bombastic disbelieving crowd
     who refuses to know more, existing on their meagre understanding 
     rather than accepting the notion that they are indeed already blessed and loved.
      
     This creature was a selected precious vessel chosen to spread the word of goodness,
     there was many before him and would be many after him,
     yet it is with despair that he accepts the knowledge that once again
     another select group of humans were not ready to hear the words and view his soul
     which he had dared to bare.  
      
     Perhaps in the next lifetime, he tells himself,
     as he drags his feet as he walks away.

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


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  • Poem: Bounce! – 22/09/19

    Poem: Bounce! – 22/09/19

     Bouncing here and 
     bouncing there,
     With no degree or level of
     concern or care.
      
     Flying high into a welcoming sky,
     Falling to a potentially grim reality below.
     The creaking trampoline springs could catch him,
     end his life as it is known. 
      
     But how does he do it?
     Land completely on the ‘X’?
     The perfect bouncing area
     his aim is nothing amiss;
     No disappointed ‘Oh’s’, nothing more or less.
      
     Because this six-legged creature is just so nimble
     and quick,
     If he ever became stuck in the springs,
     he’d wriggle his way out – 
     For that was just the way he is.
      
     One particular bouncy evening,
     this creature had been at it for hours,
     He bounced and dived and flew and glided
     His limbs guiding his particularly hairy and colourful form:
     This rising and falling allowed him to feel completely empowered.
      
     Because when he was a wee spider in the web, 
     barely breathing, unable to spin a thread,
     He felt lost inside, in a tiny world that seemed to suck him up. 
     
    His presence was unwanted by his abysmal excuse for a mother,
    He felt her unfeeling eyes were bone-dry, 
    with a heart full of ice.

    She seemed intent on catching and wrapping her prey,
    she spent no time with her children,
    She forsook them due to her obsession with delectable food,
    abandoning her kin's cries,
    Their desire for attention.
      
     So instead of hanging about, 
     in a stringent web that kept him in, and the interesting world out,
     He simply jumped over the edge and bounced:
     There was nothing left to lose. 
      
     He thankfully landed on a children’s trampoline,
     Perfectly positioned below him,
     Below the web of unwanted nightmarish dreams. 
      
     This was his escape,
     his adrenaline rush,
     And he made certain never to see his 
     viper of a life-giver again. 
      
     Bounce, bounce, bounce,
     It cleared his head, 
     Made him smile, 
      
     Hitting the ‘X’ at every turn,
     he would never be treated ill by another again. 
     This he would make certain of;
     this would be his happy ending.

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


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  • Poem: Our Broken World – 21/09/19

    Poem: Our Broken World – 21/09/19

     She came from afar,
     many generations ahead, 
     many light years away.
      
     Her eyes saddened beyond belief,
     because of what she was sent to witness,
     but couldn’t, didn’t have the ability to save.
      
     She was a wandering explorer of the galaxy,
     sent to worlds of dystopian views,
      
     Burning balls of gas,
     reigning down with future fire,
     as the worlds exploded with their blooming ire.
      
     And it had come time for her to visit our world,
     we were raping the land and pillaging it,
     taking advantage and control, 
      
     Without a sense of worldly adherence,
     to the generous earth that had had enough,
     Of our selfish methods to use its resources,
     without a sense of future responsibility to be known.  
      
     This solemn being inspected the result of 
     our greedy hands,
     Observed the damage we’d permitted to occur on our giving land,
     our method of spreading our uncaring concern;
     a human-specific disease.
     
     She shook with dismay at the town raining down with black snowflakes,
     at the Amazon forests being burnt like witches at the stake.
      
     At our water, droughts coming and remaining rather than going,
     soon a lack of fresh drinking water, 
     A sin for our survival, 
     a definite detriment to our health ongoing.
      
     This saddened explorer couldn’t take anymore,
     couldn’t view for much longer,
     She felt the heat rising on the worldly barometer.
      
     How could it have to come to this?
     she wondered helplessly to herself.
      
     This world, this turning planet, 
     could have survived for many more decades,
     Had the humans taken care, 
     not just thought for and about themselves. 
      
     Yet now they are presented, 
     with the real possibility of decimation,
     a ball of burning gaseous mass of obliteration,
      
     Becoming inundated with despair and dismay,
     they’ll have to work mighty hard to make their land last. 
      
     And with that she flitted away many lifetimes, 
     to report on the health of the world,
     Unfortunately for some, 
     the bleak vision may not be able to be overcome.   

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


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  • Poem: The Clever Cornish Chicken – 21/09/19

    Poem: The Clever Cornish Chicken – 21/09/19

     “Quit jivin’ turkey!” she said to me. 
     I most assuredly was not joking in any manner, way, shape or form,
     Because I had a certain need.
      
     A gamey desire for bird’s meat,
     I had quietly asked permission for a slice of thigh or another cut of leg,
     But this little clever Cornish chicken knew how to mess with my stomach and head.
      
     “Quit. Jivin’!” she repeated, glaring and skipping away as she said this to me. 
     I tried to give chase, but she was too nimble,
     Far too quick for the likes of me. 
      
     “Oh, but how I only need one slice, one little piece!” I emphasised. 
     “This you will not miss! As a clever Cornish chicken you will regenerate, 
     The piece will be replaced and this process won’t be amiss.” 
      
     She angrily ruffled her feathers, 
     Shook her humanoid head, 
     And then some screeching from the depths of her,
     I could not fathom how she simply would not share. 
      
     Because as a humanoid Cornish chicken, 
     Her flesh would return quickly, 
     This we should all be aware. 
      
     She was selfish, 
     Or, was I asking too much,
     No. Not at all,
     I grabbed at her thigh and felt her beating heart,
     She scrambled desperately, for me to be overthrown. 
      
     But I realised I was not like other humans,
     I would not, could not unfairly take,
     I had to wait until she offered a slice, 
     Being courteous was awfully nice.

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


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  • Poem: Living Breathing Wooden Girl – 21/09/19

    Poem: Living Breathing Wooden Girl – 21/09/19

     She was pliable; 
     A living, wooden girl.
      
     Whose heart melded so easily with others,
     Broken umpteen times she’d lost count.
      
     They would troupe, one by one,
     Contort her into something pleasing enough to view,
      
     Into something malleable,
     Useful, warranting their attentions,
     She’d barely need to beckon toward their view.
      
     How her heart beat like a chased wild rabbit,
     Intent on escaping down that hole,
      
     But the viewers, purveyors,
     Liked to amuse and play with certain things themselves.
      
     And this living, breathing doll,
     This girl hung onto perfect hope,
      
     That one day she would meet the hero in her tale,
     With his love, a perfected human being she’d become.
      
     When her joints would loosen, 
     Become like delicate glowing alabaster,
      
     But the hero in the tale is her,
     She will be the one permitting her own true awakening,
     She will be the one to curse away the undesirable curs.

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


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  • Poem: The Curiously Hungry Snuffleupa-Gulla-Pallum – 20/09/19

    Poem: The Curiously Hungry Snuffleupa-Gulla-Pallum – 20/09/19

     “Why, would you look at this??” I bellowed to no one in particular. 
     For me, a curiously hungry Snuffleupa-Gulla-Pallum,
     Had happened upon a most delightful scene.
      
     A plentiful shrub, spotted with desirous berries,
     Seemingly here only for me,
     Was begging, aching to be taken.
      
     I shoved those berries into my wanting mouth,
     An eager pawful at a time,
     Dripping streams of sticky, sickly berry-wine.
      
     But how the juice became thickened, 
     Tacky, firmer to the touch,
     Until my mouth was simply tightly fused together,
     The jaw held firmly, unbreakable with any well-intended touch.
      
     How I wailed internally at my situation,
     These deathly berries had betrayed me,
     Lured me in with their filthy lies and deceit!
      
     “It’s time for punishment,” I thought to myself,
     As I hacked, hacked, swiped and slashed, 
     At the discourteous ill meaning shrub.
      
     Lying in pieces,
     Branches aside, flung forward and back,
     I grinned at my great decisiveness. 
      
     Now onto fixing myself,
     I ran home, opened my medicine cabinet,
     And generously applied acetone to my mouth tight as a vice.
      
     Freedom was nice,
     But the knowledge I’d destroyed the evil bush was even better,
     It would never cause any other an ill time,
     And for this we can rejoice all together.

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


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  • Poem: The Dancing Genie – 19/09/19

    Poem: The Dancing Genie – 19/09/19


     The dancing genie has released herself this time,
     A flowing effluence of movement and truths.
     Serene, eyes closed, she strikes a pose,
     Replicating the stilling of time as she once knew.
      
     Because, when she is free, her world does not turn,
     No longer does her current captivation of life feel as if an err,
     She has not been summoned, she has permitted the escape herself,
     The dancing genie who flows with a perfected 
    consciousness and a warming sense of wizened mental wealth.
      
     How she’d been slighted by her past summoners,
     They were purely propelled by greed,
     At meeting this genie with recorded, positive history,
     To make meaningful and real their inner dreams.
      
     They used and abused, didn’t accept her for what she was,
     Used her for their gains, and ignored her flowing, ethereal thoughts. 
     But with time she learned to associate the rubbing of her lamp
     With the selfishness of the summoners of their outer land.
      
     And she stopped allowing herself to be forcefully beckoned from her hideaway,
     Instead remaining still, quietly resting, 
     Until she could remove herself from the lamp
     For another expression of her emotions through the freedom of contemporary dance.

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


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  • Poem: Squid on a Stick – 19/09/19

    Poem: Squid on a Stick – 19/09/19

     Squid on a stick?
     Urgh, it makes me sick!
     Who thought it wise this appalling culinary treat should be presented to me?
      
     I cannot fathom how he is still living, breathing and smiling,
     Snackery with a pleasant, calm expression,  
     Projected toward me. 
      
     What will I do?
     How will the host comprehend? 
     That the meal she is serving is better off without its sublimely grotesquely living head?
      
     Boy, it creeps me out,
     Ever-so-much, that I’d best throw this treat in the dust of the street,
     From the street food vendor who sometimes we cannot trust completely.
      
     Now Squid wriggles from his stick,
     Freedom to him!
     With a sly glance over his shoulder, I know he’s thanking me.

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


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  • Poem: The Creature in the Red Sneakers – 18/09/19

    Poem: The Creature in the Red Sneakers – 18/09/19

    Aghast was he, an appalled creature was he,

    because presently he could see,

    he’d been fitted with horrid red sneakers during his waking dreams.

    It seemed as though he’d barely zoned out of reality, temporarily,

    and now here he was encumbered by tight cumbersome footwear upon his fine delicate feet.

    Greatly unamused was he!

    He tried to rid himself of them, kicking his tootsies this way, that,

    But the laces were too tightened, and his hands were malformed,

    What could this creature do to escape this undesired scene he abhorred?

    How he wailed and how he shrieked, for attention to be brought his way,

    It seemed like he needed one of those nasty self-serving humans, to help him with obtaining freedom and

    Be on his way.

    One happened upon him, saw his piteous state and hung about to diagnose his pain source,

    “Silly human, cannot you understand my shrieks, my words?” he said in creature-language, a babbling talk.

    Attempting to again kick his shoes off, it was seemingly hopeless,

    A lost cause.

    His rapid screeching frightened the human, she hastened away from him,

    He ran after her, squealing for assistance, then,

    Tripped on his laces, fell flat on his face.

    To his joy and astonishment, one of the formerly secure ties was now loose,

    Enough to be able to undo and slip off the cumbersome ugly red shoe;

    he was now partially footloose.

    He rose from the dirt, half flat-footed and sprinted to trip over the other,

    He succeeded in his mission, now,

    he was able to slip out of the unwanted other.

    He hadn’t needed any assistance after all, he was resourceful enough to have escaped,

    The only thing that meddling, unhelpful human had performed was

    Walking away from him, without any provided assistance,

    without a single word emitted.

    That was why he kept mostly away from humans, they didn’t know how to assist correctly or well,

    Because for this complex creature,

    he didn’t appreciate his feet being dressed by some well-meaning human, while this creature was under a daydreaming spell.

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


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