Away with you o' wondrous fate
My inner eye perceives with depth
Gazing ghouls of tragic past
Follow the path of wondrous fate

Lips that part with blissful hearts
Pleasant words of sweet allure
Bridges built on time and love
Usher in thou blissful hearts

Serene content the waters deep
Salvage mankind not once to drown
Life abundant swallows crude
New birth abounding in waters deep

Unleashing beauty’s blooming flower
Transforming shadows dancing moon
Joyful embrace of scenery cheer
Henceforth doth spring o' blooming flower

without you is a lonely shore,
a stretch of sand, a closing door,
where wisps the winds from off the waves,
such mockery of my heart they make.

no matter what the time of day,
i think, i dream of you this way:
hand in hand, at last as one,
sharing laughter, love and fun.

Dear Alice,
I'm *writing this letter to say, please help us. We grow mad each day. Please come back, life is not the same without you.
Please bring baby ravens with you. People forgot how to write here in Underland, it's quite sad, really. I'll be waiting at my desk drinking tea with Hare and Doormouse. Please don't tell me you're not coming... we sent White Rabbit to get you. It took him a lot of time---time, what is time?
.......
Just like a raven we want to live and be free again. Boy, the *people down here are crazy. But all the best people are. One of my dear friends told me that. :) I hope to see you soon, Alice. ****** Big Head is locked away!
Love, Hatter

P.S. Send some cake.

i can no longer understand how now,
this sleeplessness at night,
when the world is waking in other places
so far away from me,
to the ethereal powders of the breeze,
that paints the morning with its poetry,
as the phantom of the love i love,
causes me to awaken with a cry.

It's going to rain, rain, it's going to rain,
those sleek-silver drops will take me back again,
to those cobbled, winding streets,
the raucous, song-filled pubs,
and the green, the green, the red-brick,
granite and oh! the green,
the steaming Earl Grey tea,
of which i love with a yearning need,
waiting, waiting for me,
on that precious island on the sea.

The tea kettle whistles-
I feel its relief.
My own blood boiling
so violently
the tea is cold to me.
Sipping steaming tea
to cool my burning soul.
Fighting-
Preposterous preponderance-
Witless whim-sickle wiles
show styles of-
Deceptive discrepancies
in a cool calm
quagmire of queries.
Intensity subdued by ethos-
Small pockets of heat erupting
from mountains of flesh called-
pores.
Stores of tears dwelling,
So subtly at the ready-
corner of my eye.
The ardor climbs-
I cannot-
contain.
Listen to the steam-
Scream
from my ears.
Finally time-
pour me out.

“It was after I’d been *****
that my cat died” you said.
We laughed.

Why did we laugh?
We made tea
hoping to find the answer in each
sip.
But all I could detect was
sour milk and a lack of
sugar.
(I clanged the spoon onto the mug
to make musical tea
thinking it might cheer you up).

Someone’s been laying in
to my cheesy thins
and I have no biscuits
to offer.

Like a broken cup of tea,
You only think you are free.

And even though you can't move on your own,
Well, at least you're not alone.

Coming down the carriage with her coffee, tea and name badge,
She LOOKS like an Emelia.
Serious and quite beautiful in some ways
In her dark skirt
Her keys that hang and jingle
Her expression of slightly resentful concentration -
A miniscule pursing of the lips as she pours
- She was not made for this.
She was once a princess.

She still is.

Bare pad of feet on wood - he feels her warmth
Sashay in the towelling robe to sit
Before him in her simple finery,
Hair in dripping ringlets from the shower.

Across the little kitchen table eyes
Meet and know in comfortable quiet.

The tea between them steams its blessing.

A misty world is waiting for the words
She leans and looks to know his question.  
"Diamonds, dreams, or love?" he says.

A slight incline of head and hazel eyes.
Outside the quantum dance of autumn leaves,
But here is human trust that wills
A circle round them both Forever.  

"Kindly Chinese soldiers live in Cookham"
A slim hand reaches past his cup to touch
His fingers, "Don't worry - dreams do that, My Love,
And we started/ended with the third as it should be..."
And as for diamonds - well, the day will tell!"

They look their love and rise to go their ways.

The leaves dance on.

Sweet, smooth, bright-green beauty,
Chunks of chocolate perfection
Generously swept through the soft swirls.
An ******* minty dessert.

Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.

What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?
What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?
What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?

Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,
And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.
I was myself the compass of that sea:

I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw
Or heard or felt came not but from myself;
And there I found myself more truly and more strange.