Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Little bunny was so adored,
Little bunny then grows as
Peter Rabbit.

Peter Rabbit was so loved,
Peter Rabbit now becomes
Her guinea pig.

Alice was her name,
Alice in the Wonderland.
Alice liked Peter,
but treated the rabbit no better than a mere guinea pig;
for her experiment—
in her Wonderland.
Thanks for experimenting on me, *****.
Stark Nov 24
Rocking your head back and forth
Disbelieving faces stare
As you cry for mercy
Quietly going insane

Dropped through the hole
Feeling nothing at all
As you saw what the world could be
Reality and fantasy kaleidoscoping

When you awoke--
The brightness was gone
Vanished from your mind
And your ideas seemed inconceivable
--to the others

Oh, the others
The disbelievers
The skeptics
The ones that refused to open their mind

Possibility spreads like a tree from a single root
But they are unable to see it
Instead, they dismiss you
Send you to the sanitarium
Where your screams of madness can be heard
Even today
Avy Fabros Nov 1
Let me tell you a story,
a rendition of Alice's story:
Her fall down the rabbit hole,
Her descend down ever after.
She as a girl, with dreams so high,
They were towering,
she believes in achieving.
But one day Alice learned:
Day isn't as bright as she had always known.
The sun's not shining,
The sky's as dark as evening.

With a blade in her hands,
The gate opened with her blood.
No doubts, no qualms.
She jumped.
Deeper, farther, the march hare she met.
She tore through every door,
ON! to the new world she moved on.

She met twins, nameless
They were fighting, endless
The prophesy foretold something,
But she's not that Alice, she's different.
She growled, she screamed.
The world froze.

This is her world now,
And she will claim it no matter what.
She is Alice,
An Alice gone mad.
Wouldn't she make the best partner
of a hatter they know best?

Hatter is hatter,
Hatter became her armor, her sword her shield,
Whatever she wanted him to be.
Together they fought, charged hand in hand.
Off with the red queen's head,
Off with the jabberwock's
Hatter gave her a purpose,
But hatter left her to fend in that new world.

Gone is hatter,
still and cold.
And there goes Alice screaming back and forth.
Hatter became her life,
But they both lost against Time.
Now tell me,
Who is Alice without hatter?
What is Alice with a purpose?
With hatter gone, how will the story ever end?
Carla Oct 11
“Alice, Alice,
Where are you?”
I’m dizzy, I’m dizzy,
Stuck in a cloud of blue.

My vision is blurred,
My mind is scattered,
Where’s the White Rabbit?
Where’s the Mad Hatter?

The Queen of Hearts,
Should’ve yelled by now,
“Chop off her head!”
Or make me bow.

I’m so confused,
And lost in this land,
Where is my dream?
Where is Wonderland?

Where is Twiddle-Dee?
Where is Twiddle-Dum?
Where’s the Blue Catterpillar,
Getting drunk on ***?

The Cheshire Cat,
Must appear soon,
I can’t be left alone,
This can’t be my doom.

I can’t feel my feet,
I can’t feel my hands,
I don’t know where I am,
Where is Wonderland?
A twist on the story you know and love, I apologise if I ruined it for you.
L Aug 28
I ask myself this 3 word question every waking minute

I'm a *******
Or so that's what I'm told I am

I know that I crave women
Their smiles
Their lips
Their curves
Everything tiny detail about them

But recently, I've been questioning

Not about my love for women
But a more complicated matter

My mind is scattered
Kind of like Alice and the Mad Hatter

I long for a relationship
But not with just one

Perhaps I'm not over my past endeavors
And thats why I **** after more
I take a pill each morning--
"to keep the madness away,"
declared the doctor,
her tone clinically nonchalant
as she handed to me
a prescription for
small, white tablets
that leave a bitter chalkiness
in your mouth
when you've left them
on your tongue
for too long
before swallowing.

But
there is only so much
modern-day pharmaceuticals
can remedy.

Sometimes,
I can still hear her,
you know--
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
scratching at the
tessellated patch-work
of my psyche.

I can still feel her
as my fingertips flit
across the liquor bottle--
"Drink Me,"
it murmurs.

Curiouser
&
curiouser
I become with
every shot.

When the room
starts lurching,
when I am too
dizzy to stand,
I close my eyes only
to find that the world
is still spinning.

Or perhaps
I am just falling.

Yes,

D
   O
       W
            N

the rabbit hole I go.

And, as I plummet,
the phosphenes of colour
behind my eyes
transmute into the most
peculiar images:
a mercury-tainted top hat
encompassing the harlequin
countenance of a man
as crazed as I;
the trundling wings
of a Jabberwock
and the heaving snout
of a Bandersnatch;
a pocket watch,
its face lustrous and
encrusted with Jadestone--
"Time. It's time!"
it chimes.

"Time for what?"
exclaims the girl
in the periwinkle petticoat
(she appears simultaneously
excited and terrified
by the impending chaos).

"Bloodshed,"
reckons the squire
of the pocket watch--
the March Hare,
a grisly little thing
in a tattered waist jacket.

"Bloodshed, bloodshed,
off with her head!"

And that girl in periwinkle?

Why that girl is me,
and the Queen of Wonderland
has dealt her cards--
she'd like my head
(and my heart).

But
sweet.
lost.
mad
Alice
has a trick of  
her own to deal--
a Wild Card
tucked beneath her sleeve.

She is capable of imagining
at least six impossible things
before the high is over,
you know.
All it takes is a
simple flutter
of an eyelash
and then,
gripped between
her fingers,
appears a substance
foreign to Wonderland--
***.

"Bottoms up--
for with this,
I shan't feel a thing,"
she surrenders.

"What?"
roars the queen
upon her arrival.
"You will not fight?
Why, you must be mad!"

"Haven't you heard?"
replied Alice.
"All the best people are--
Cheers."
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com

(P.S. Use a computer for an optimal experience)
Jenna B Sep 26
To be honest
I can feel myself slipping,
Spiraling,
Falling,
Slowly but
Surely

I barely slept at all last night,
I didn’t take my B12 today,
And tomorrow doesn’t look much better
I’m slipping, spiraling, sprawling
and I don’t think anyone notices
Or would really care

I’m not a poet
Nor do I want to be
But my heart is torn,
My mind a disaster
I’ve fallen farther than Alice
And I don’t care
that no one cares

I know I’m falling,
Spiraling,
Slipping
And I’m not trying to stop
In fact
I rather like it
veritas Aug 26
does she recede into her lair of solitude and silence, or does she slip away shadowless to the soft secret of her dark cove?

or, rather, does she sink into a sweeter place, a heavier place,
lifted high with the smell of  
  deep oleander and tall curtains of swaying stalks?
    for down and down she goes,
      the descension into madness made so easy.
        down and down and down until she is
          all that place and not at all that place.
      and so until her descension halts,
    down and down and down

she'll go.
alice in purgatory.
L Aug 15
Ah, to be a little frog.

Allow me to hide amongst 'your' belongings.

Under the cushions of your swing set, upon your screen door, mayhaps even in your outside rainboots.

You may shoo me away at once, if you must. I will be back.

Ah, to be a little frog.

I think i shall hop away now.

Toodaloo.

Until next time.
Observances and thoughts.
Next page