Poem: Running From Dusk Until Dawn: Stuck in a Year I Was Never Meant to Own – 21/10/19

 From dusk to dawn I thought of you,
Obsessed, my mind ran through moments lacking your truths.
Where passions were high and my fingers danced their little tunes,
I begged, beseeched for you to listen
To my heart
My beating
For you so true.
 
I yearned for your presence
But you would not allow me this
I rarely saw you
Yet my words I sent them
Stronger, becoming desperate,
My emotions to you were amiss
Yet when I thought of you
All I could recall was a misting bliss.
 
What could I say to make you turn my way?
To gather your feelings in a heartfelt kind of manner
That would make you want to visit my world
And here remain?
 
I should have wished for something more
Because with you there was soon a forceful need
To escape
To run
Or at least
Refrain,
Falling in love was a misdeed.

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

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Prose Poetry: Daffodil – 20/10/19

The daffodil is strangely beautiful in its brightened yellow garb. In his coloured outfit of delight, he makes observers sing and sigh with breathy appreciation and flowing rivers of love.

He is modest, this daffodil, he does not ask to be seen for what he is not, he is not showy or greedy for eyes, he accepts what is given, where our eyes are cast.

But we cannot stare at anything other than him, his joyous melody of lightness seemingly singing, singing, through our innate senses of melodious being.

He also represents awareness, a sign of a reminder, but here he is simply here, present, and we appreciate his wonder. All the while though, there is a knowing that his sincere purpose is to make others show that we understand, we are aware, of his meaning we truly care.

His beauty can be deceptive, but he is now blossomed, into full bloom, like the brightened message he represents, we can take this flower with us, from hushed room to comforting room.

This daffodil is magic, and he is perfectly pleased with being part of a message, raising eyes, awareness and acknowledging the brave hearts whom the blossom is trying to help save with his blessings.  

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


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Poem: Adorn Thy Clause: An Acerbic Recollection of 2015 – 20/10/19

 ‘Adorn thy clause, irreverently yours’, 
You once held my yearning heart for ransom.
 
I spoke the loving words you never spoke,
As my heart held open doors,
Now they’re firmly closed,
No in-and-out fairies a-prancing.
 
Many times, I proclaimed my ardour for you
With brightened smiles and flowery poetry,
But the wool was pulled over my eyes,
And now it’s time to share the story.  
 
Had you not made me walk your path
Where I experienced your sheer manipulation
And audacity
 
I might have never found my true love and known
How I deserved to be treated by another,
Decently, respectfully, properly.

The juxtaposition between my present love
And your lying proclamations was a comparative
Level of suffering.

You should not have been allowed to
Remain in my life for that long
The fact you had is strangely amazing.
 
Oh, call the lyrebirds,
And the peacocks with their brightened plumes!
That evening when we first properly spent time together,
We had our first emotional encounter in that starched white room.
 
But as likely with all your romances,
You caused this to become pear shaped,
You blasted away any sense of responsibility
You took my hard work, honour, and generosity
For granted each and every day.
 
Your behaviour should have been wiped away.
 
I didn’t need something or someone like this in my life,
I’m actually glad that you pulled yourself away,
Excised me from my strife,
For I had better things to write of, feel and say,
I was worthy of the then-unwanted freedom you cast my way.
 
And for months I was required to heal,
My mental health wrecked and ravaged,
I speak for myself, as I speak for all,
We are not all left that damaged.
 
So, I adorn my clause,
To you I present not even as irreverently yours,
Not even sincere in the slightest.
But because of you, and how you make me felt,
Like dirt smooshed into the ground,
I realise and know that I deserve behaviour
Only of the finest merit.

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


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Poem: Cheer Girl – 19/10/19

 She cheers for me,
She cheers for you,
She’s there standing by the side lines
When we are down and blue.
 
She encourages us
To be the best that we can
She calls out motivation and speaks of
Our inner and outward strengths.
 
When we stumble
If we fall,
She’s roaring now,
She’s having a ball!
 
She screams for us to keep on going,
That we can perform what we wish to be
Our dreams must be ongoing
Her voice she does not think of saving.
 
And then from the side lines
She now rushes onto the court
Holding our bodies then raising us up
 
She swings us round and round
Like children on the Hills hoist
And reminds us to enjoy our lives
In all our successes,
Failures,
And future joy.

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


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Prose Poetry: Hoot Hoot – 19/10/19

Hoot and holler, holler and hoot, they express their blatant approval as you walk past their scene. Where you are not viewed as a person, but an item, a beautiful thing to be objectified and admired without the understanding that you feel and express yourself too. Now you hoot and holler, toward them you shake your fist and call, standing up for yourself, you won’t take their disrespect at all. With surprise they lower their eyes, ashamed, awash with embarrassment, they should have known better, to perform their social role with the respect they’d been taught to express at home. 

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


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(*Used Shutterstock image as a generalised drawing reference then altered.)

Prose Poetry: Expulsion – 18/10/19

I have long ago released all ill feeling for those whom were once in my life, for the former alliances, for the ones who took advantage of a young naïve woman who was I. For those who exploited the gullibility in a cruel selfish manner that meant only they would be the ones benefiting, I speak to you now: you have no effect on me anymore, it is easier to forgive then commence forgetting than to cling to the hatred of years before.

While it is effortless to recall angered words about them, in my being, in my core, I don’t feel anything bad or negative for them now, not anymore. It’s as though the thick black soot of anger and slime which permeated my being when I recalled them has simply annihilated itself, wiped itself clean.

Certainly, I can detail my former anger and sense of insult and offence but what would be the point in that? Live and let live. These beings are the ones who have to live with who they truly are, how they are themselves, and that is quite possibly the biggest sucker-punch of an irony to be known and seen. They will one day be suffering; this I can assure you. The conscience has a way of making oneself accountable for their actions. And I know to stay well away from these types, because for me, the warning signs signal in my mind for evermore.

I can’t imagine being like some of those self-serving, arrogant, selfish people I once knew. They would have to come to terms with how they treat others, and perhaps for them, there is nothing wrong with being advantageous, fashioning circumstances benefiting themselves and themselves alone. They do not think kindly of me, nor do they think of you, they precisely alter the methods and exercise their wiles until you’re backed against a wall, with nothing more to say. Unfortunately, occasionally our self-control and courage take a sick day.

Do not allow yourselves to be affected by these types, nor the memory of what these types have performed. They are unworthy of your anger or spat spite, instead allow yourself to be free of negativity, they’re worthy of nothing in your life, nor space in your mind. They are gone for a reason. To the memory of them a firm goodbye.

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


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Prose Poetry: Your Little Birdy – 17/10/19

Broken, he seemingly fell from the heavens, into your considering view. Into your loving care and concern, he assisted at healing you too. As you nursed him back to health, hand rearing, listening to his joyous, tenuous calls and providing your skills of motherly loving, you watched him and his confidence grow tenfold, in the days you spent together.

Then disaster would strike, oh, the horror, as differing birds came to sweep your Birdy away. Yet he is now looked after by a larger other, of his own kin; you smile to yourself, knowing he is finally grown enough for freedom with his own kind, with his other hopefully he will stay. Though, close to your heart his memories will forever remain, and you wish for him as a guardian of your land, you know you cannot will him to be anything more than free, as the moment that he flew from your hand.

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


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Prose Poetry: A Bouquet of Fronds – 15/10/19

You, my dear, are like a bouquet of colourful, delightful fronds. Rare in my life and treasured and adored, I hold you close like this exquisite leafy arrangement, because of our love I am truly assured. Need not there be gifts of diamonds and gold, of precious gemstones set in shining silver — those gifting days have long passed. I caress you, like the bunch of bright and perfumed foliage to my chest, and breathe you in, your precious, peculiar scent. The heady perfume that you create without even batting an eyelid, a resonance felt in my heart as I inhale, then heavily exhale and once more, I breathe you in. I draw in as much as I can from your loving presence in my life, and know intuitively that unlike the glorious bouquet that you happily presented to me, your existence in my life will never be fleeting. You, my love, will always be mine.

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


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Prose Poetry: Slipping Through The Cracks – 16/10/19

We can, at times, choose to fall into the cracks, to allow ourselves to become lost, forgotten in our life paths. There is a certain way of thinking, defeatist in itself, that will disallow us to keep churning along. Our former dream-chasing no longer ongoing, the once-joyous ribbons ceasing their unwinding, ceremonious unfurling. Because if we permit ourselves to trip and stumble at each possible failure, feeling like we cannot rebuild ourselves upwards from the pains and sorrows from which we suffer, we can forcibly lock ourselves into a dark, dampened place where nothing positive will live. No self-love, no personal acceptance, no sense of real responsibility. No resonating sense of control to be delivered. Where we can wail and drown in our style that is completely differing from the method of being brightened and proceeding through failures triumphantly and swimmingly. If we can’t teach ourselves to rise from the dirt, from the mud when we’re thrown down, beaten in certain circumstances, how can we expect others to look to us for comfort and guidance?

Realise that your life is not only yours alone. Many of you have others looking toward you, as a prime example. They see what you do, and do what they see, not do as they are told, because demonstration is key. And how these others will praise you, sometimes silently, their eyes speaking of pride that you have once again lifted yourself from a moment of great sufferance or strife, that you have carried on regardless of the shame or embarrassment you may have felt at falling.

Love yourself, even when you feel your life spreading, unfairly unfolding. Terrible things happen to people: disasters, illness, loss, and we can’t help some of these — they are but truth, occurrence, circumstance, or destiny, and we need to accept that the way we deal with negative moments shows a certain strength of character. Your uprising from the cracks is the key. Allow yourself not to fall in the gaps, but to leap forth, rising like the superhero you truly are, and fly through your life with eloquence and style, knowing that you have done exactly as you have willed, performed what you are capable of and in the manner in which you’d hoped.

There’s nothing wrong with occasionally stumbling, but healing, recovering or carrying on steadfast and courageously; why, these are methods which make life truly worth living.

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


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Prose and Poetry: Explorers of a Breathing Forest – 15/10/19

Your eyes dart from left to right. Taking in the view, you know you appear confused. But, what does it matter? Appearances are nothing when you are alone, surrounded by no other living things. The forest appears to breathe though, with life it heaves and puffs, the life within these trees, this shrubbery, this undergrowth, is teaming with a sense of alertness that you are unable to wholly see. You can still feel it though, sense it, quivering beneath the surface, and you heave your breaths along with them, the forest you inhale and exhale with the lot of them.

You know not to touch though, to seek further, to spread apart the flowering shrubbery or to part the bushes from the trees. There may lay something dangerous inside, and you are not wont to look, you prefer to carry on with your life path, strictly you are on the path of seeking another form of outlook. Each step reminds you that you have turned away from the shudders, the living creatures hidden, hiding well away, because each footstep you take, the vibrations grow smaller and of less frequency, and this pleases you, for you can move on with what you seek.

What you seek is a place to lay, a place to rest your world-weary cheeks, to reside in a canopy of fronds that will tickle yet cause deep feelings of momentous pleasure-causing breaths, high then lower bounds and leaps. Where you can rest with quiet confidence that you will be uninterrupted, you’d even take an isolated gorge as a place of rest, if this solitude were presented. But now you discover a nook in the canopy, and further below what appears a gnawed-out area within some undergrowth, and here you are pressed for choice, which shall you select? With a firm conviction you crawl, hands and knees, into the tightly hollowed undergrowth perfect for someone of your stature and your stature alone, and you now breathe in the welcoming woody scent. You may have found yourself a warming and protective home.

Huddled, you rest, knees to your chest, rocking back and forth to generate some extra heat, as well as an expulsion of additional nervous energy, for you feel something is forthcoming. On the horizon there is no proof, no inkling that there will be a change in the view, but you can sense it, and your heart quivers with this truth.  It is as though you possess an extrasensory perception for these kinds of things, and like the breathing of the forest which you also breathed with, you hone in on the sense of trepidation you have come to associate with this futuristic feeling.

But there is nothing to fear, a brightness appears, heralding something close by, something becoming nearer. Your heart bounces and bounces; with each beat it creates for your life to continue onward, for your life to continue to be held lovingly dear. Then this light draws closer to you, seems to hone in on your presence, as though you are the heated target it seeks to reach its ill-fated doom. Instead of an explosion, the orb attaches itself to you, nestled through the occasionally-jagged undergrowth and now you feel yourself warming.

Hotter and hotter you become, as if your face is awash with burning shame, and then you realise that you are actually positively glowing. Glowing with the sense of confidence that you had lost for years, a strength of personal abundance that will keep you going and knowing that you are something fierce and mighty to combat, not something helplessly wasting away. That you are strong, you are an almighty being who you can now completely believe in. A sense of personal mystery is no longer vibrating as your aura. You are now glowing perfectly.

Feel the sense of freedom that comes with being your true self. At believing that you are talented, intelligent, on a path of truthful self-enlightenment. That you do not need to hide yourself away, ashamed at your apparent lacking of flowery traits and self-concepts, because you already possess the formula that life has projected within your mind and heart. You know these experiences better than any crowd who believes they knew the lot of them.

Possess your self-worth and place freshly bloomed flowers within it as if it were a freshly blown glass vase, because you are now transparent and there is only true beauty to view. Understand there may be slight imperfections, perhaps cracks or internal bubbles, but know this: you are amazing, and you have finally found the right view. It was always sitting within you, your internal mirror, the true reflection of you.

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


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