"dormouse" poems
How glorious it once was
My Wonderland
Singing flowers, unbirthday parties
And painting roses red
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee
Laughing, playing jubilantly
White Rose
Beautiful, brave
Shy Violet
Strong, sweet
Hatter
Protective, playful
Gave hope, kindness, love
I grew older
Wonder fading
Until only madness remained
My dormouse hid in his little teapot
My Cheshire cat disappeared
The Queen of Hearts gave misery
Tied in a treacherous bow
The caterpillar tried to transform
Toxic, ***** fear
Beware the Jabberwock, my dear
He wants you for his bed
My love, the Hatter left me
One golden afternoon
Devoid of wonder
Doomed to ache
The White Rabbit came
And took me by the hand
To lead me from my once wondrous Wonderland
You’re late You’re late
Your future will not wait
No time to say “I love you, Goodbye”
You’re late You’re late You’re late
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
All day panda girl reclines
Exercise she declines
Horsey girl will bring you luck ( U )
Her legs are strong and she drives a truck
Bonobo girl is worth consideration
Taking account of her reputation
Cat girl charms you with her eyes
She chings her claws and claims her prize
Crocodile girl will make you happy
Until she gets a bit too snappy
Dormouse girl may give a peep
Together you'll have a lovely sleep
Turtle girl will be just swell
If you coax her from her shell
Wallaby girl needs some space
To hop about from place to place
Tarantula girl gives you pangs
When she shows her fearsome fangs
Cougar woman's after me
Completing my fantasy
Menagerie
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
I haven't been here in awhile. This section of Wonderland is almost foreign to me, after all this time. I have teetered upon its edge for ages, but now I have finally fallen in, down the rabbit hole, and I do not know when I will be able to get out.
The dark parts of Wonderland, where the Jabberwocky roams free, have terrify me and always will. The simple thought of that monster lurking in my head brings a slew of tears to my face, a torrential downpour of my own misery. I do not trust the Jabberwocky, for it brings ideas, hallow, dark ideas to the front of my brain and causes me to wander in the frozen desert or extract my blood from my own skin, and I do not know myself anymore.
Each word is shaky, I cannot feel it on the tip of my tongue, I am numb. No one here in New Wonderland understands the Jabberwocky; hell, only the White Rabbit and the Dormouse really understood it in Old Wonderland, and my heart still broke relentlessly, like tides on a beach.
Those not from Old have rejected the Jabberwocky side of me, and that terrifies me. What if everyone here fears the Jabberwocky? I understand that fear; no one expects sweet, innocent Grace to also be the monster screaming under their bed, but I need people. I need people who know and understand and accept that tough I can be broken and horrific and abhorrent and repulsive that Grace is still there underneath it all and she needs love. She needs it more than she'll ever admit.
Words. I have lost them. I haven't the faintest clue what's left to say, for the Jabberwocky is ruthless and hateful of my words, and I'm lucky to have gotten this far. In my dreams I am whole, in my imagination the Jabberwocky was gone, but I know now it has not left me.
It never will.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
Through the looking glass I peered, hoping,
Hoping to see another world.
Alice, oh Alice, how envy I you,
Dreaming, still dreaming,
But your dreams come true.
No one moved, not a single spoke, silence,
All around the world grew, or shrink it did.
It was you, Alice, you,
You were the one who grew.
Eat of that mushroom you did.
The caterpillar, smoking its pipe, wheezes,
In the garden, the flowers did sing.
You fell down the rabbit’s hole,
Not too long ago,
A new world you discovered.
The Cat, what was it called? Cheshire.
It’s wide grin, plump body.
Here, there, nowhere, it vanishes and reappears,
A cat without a grin, you’ve seen,
Not a grin, without the cat.
The Mad Hatter, the March Hare, seated,
Dormouse still sleeping.
Table long, tea cups and pots,
All set and ready,
Truly a Mad Tea-Party.
The Queen, oh, Her Majesty, Red hearts,
Loyal subjects pay their respects.
Golf, was it? No – croquet, you played.
Flamingos and hedgehogs,
Certainly a difficult game.
Painting the roses red, they were,
Red, red roses. The gardener,
He grew them all wrong: White roses from the trees,
Card soldiers, hard work.
Roused, awakened, your sister came, running,
A dream you thought.
It must have been, maybe,
The mushroom in your pocket, the white rabbit’s glove,
You know where you’ve been.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
There will always be an Autumn spat
where the cat foils the dormouse
and the Annual taster chocolate box
arrives as nonchalant
as the mysterious sender.
Sometimes I wish we were boxing hares
to really celebrate an outlet for renewed anger.
Munching on my bagels, i feel a pang of Hypocrisy.
I run fickle, planning out the chequered
season.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
At the bus stop,a beautiful dormouse nibbled.
Gnawing away at a roll filled with sausage.
The freak with the tea-bag face.
Let's call her Alice.
Fair maid.
Mousy fair hair cradled her shoulders.
Reminiscent of Wonderland.
No blue and white pinafore dress.
Just a pair of leggings wrapped in complex patterns.
A medley of cream, brown and black.
Fluffy ebony boots of winter.
One missing thing no Cheshire cat here.
The road is rather too hectic for a cat to come and frolic.
Not even a fantasy cat with a grin.
Alice's mother stood close at hand.
Protecting her as they wait.
Quick as a flash.
The bus came.
Right one for me.
Doubt if I'll see bus-stop Alice ever again.
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
As the sun briskly rises on a chilly autumn morn,
my Dormouse pokes her nose through the side of her nest,
her gorgeous loveable eyes are still half closed,
but she still crawls out of her soft home to start the day.
She has a long day ahead of her,
scurrying around finding blackberries to nibble,
on the odd occasion she might stop for a nap,
but she wriggles on to look after her partner,
Me!
Mr. Wormy!
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
***“We're all mad here.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland***
Go ask Alice
about the adventure,
how she fell from grace
into that ungodly space
amongst mad people
places that go meow in the night
yesterday, she was a different kind of gal
believing in the impossible before breakfast
out of touch with smoking caterpillars
she left the rabbit hole
with new frightful insight
it hardly matters which way you go
it's always a huge puzzle
It was no secret she was entirely bonkers,
whence the queen squealed off with her head
Mad Hatter served tea
with uncommon nonsense
whilst chasing dust bunny shrooms
chatting backwards,
then asked curiouser & curiouser
'why is a raven like a writing desk'?
They all jammed yesterday and today,
into clouds, sand & sea, so that
eventually, logic and proportion of the Red Queen,
only made eccentric sense to the dormouse
feeding your head...
&
uncle Walt getting richer on the hookah smokin'
blonde ***** pill popper,
~too bad the moral of the story is frozen for posterity...
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
So this is the end.
This conundrum, this series I have created has been swirling on the tip of my tongue for months, and I have devoted my heart to it. Time is running out on this singular year, and everything will change in a moment. For now I will cherish the moment I'm in.
Bagels and cream cheese and coffee shops will be my home, I will splendor in them for as long as I can. I just cannot believe everything is changing. I was well aware it would change, said that it will change, but now that I am on the precipice I just want to take three steps back and tell Grace not to jump.
The one who I never expected is now gone for summer, and it broke my heart a little. The others are almost gone as well, and that breaks my heart a little. I will be back in the realm of the white rabbit and, though I miss him, one white rabbit does not account for seven unexpecteds
Down the rabbit hole I go again, to find another new wonderland. Grace is always changing, evolving, and this time I must do it without the aid of my friends. I will survive, likely, its just the loneliness that scares me. After months of being loneless, I just am not quite sure how loneliness will fit on me.
Just promise yourself to not go back to the dormouse and the queen of hearts, Grace. Promise you won't stoop that low. They have bottled and broken you, and you deserve better. You have better. Don't let their honey words and fake apologies change who you are.
So now its over. But it will be renewed, the time will come again for Grace to be in this neck of wonderland.
And for now I will be a survivor. A survivor of old wonderland, in hopes of getting back to new wonderland. I can almost touch it, taste it. It is only months away.
Then, I will be home again.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
It might be the pungent steam from a ***
steeping herbs meant to bend its sippers'
minds to potent effect, or an unanticipated
digestive reckoning from that mawkishly flavored
brand of store-bought paste they pass as butter.
However the dough arises, their collective
recollection of storied events, lengthwise sliced
and ritually rehearsed, hops facilely on the ****
of a bucking and overtly nonsensical wind.
Tea parties with slippery perspectives
have been shown quite clinically to induce
heightened sensitivity in participants,
so it's prudent to set about tidying the facts:
The hatter, it's become clear, shifted one place
too many and disappeared with a trace -- leaving
behind his hat to nobody's great advantage.
Lacking a wearer, the headgear's reputation for
producing madness has rapidly diminished.
The march hare pulls off his change in a very
separate and seasonal way: the bunny's
bottom half somersaults its top to occupy
both his spot and the hatter's vacated seat.
The dormouse upon its latest arousal
is re-visioned to be small, but not much mouse
at all. He's plush with the long-in-the-ear habit
of a pink stuffed rabbit, which the crusading hare
furiously declares is most curious, casting
doubt on the vermin's commitment to "no room."
Alice remains foremost in tact and is given
a bonus of two spare feet complete with slackened
bootstraps. She keeps them and her other luxury
items well-sheltered behind a stout table leg.
The absentee hatter doesn't dare shame her
with a radio-show call-in decrying
the waste. She's generously agreed to
cover the medical expenses from his firm flop.
May 27, 2010
May 27, 2010 at 2:54 PM UTC
Little dormouse,
nun trying leather,
desperately cleans up her stigmata.
I hear you whisper prayers,
I see you twitch to stop yourself
to sign the cross
and I feel your foreign fear.
Little dormouse,
can you only muster
a half-riot, a part-furore?
Do you need a bit of blasphemy
to wash in dirtily
in order to be forgiven again?
And know, When you’re an angel,
floating up to live with the lullabyes,
will you grip your shoes
with your little toes?
Little dormouse,
moving your lips slow,
to look better to the snake.
To be new-born, translucent
In the half-light.
Such sanguine wine,
your flesh and your offer is.
The drugs and our pleasure
the pressure of our nature,
which we will not bow to.
Little dormouse
wants a bad habit,
not a good man.
Wants to understand,
things forbidden to think.
Wants an unhealthy metaphor,
not enough,
she wants to want more.
Under smiles,
there's proof the world is anything,
you’ll find whatever you look for,
but not the love.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
Deceit lies there, among the roses,
blooming in the weeds;
slugs sidle up the leaves
where the dormouse breeds;
and nothing gently lives here
where the sparrow haunts-
within the shadows that voles fear-
the breeze that whispering taunts.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
The Lemur is enthroned on the heights of an island
In a luxurious villa, complete with a sauna and a pool
The Dormouse holds, modestly, a small pharmacy
Where people can buy necklaces, gemstones and pretty threads.
Every Monday morning the lemur fixes
His hair with a delicate ivory comb
Asks about the stock market in overflow
Swallowing a pure white powder in a row
His orange eyes threaten to explode
So he sits down, eats lobster and sated,
He doesn’t have a care in the world as descends the evening
His paw resting on a black jade cane stolen from the dormouse
Monday morning, the lemur, operational
Goes fast, pick and pickaxe at the mine
Extracting, sweaty, some beautiful spinel specimens
Hoping that one day at the Lemurian’s he would dine
For a trifle, the latter bought him
His most beautiful crystals and this without paying taxes
He became the leader of the island thanks to his kinsmen
The exotic animals knew something was wrong…
His only friends were the rich and the bohos
Under the yoke of this monkey, the island was a hellhole
Their chef was addicted to coconut powder
Whoever dared to say it was put in irons
When finally, an evening he overdosed
Nobody buried him among his friends
The Dormouse humbly undertook to do so
At the hole where he dug, he found a stone
The moral of the fable, listen to it then,
Who shows compassion exists with reason
Do not judge too fast, because we're leaving too early
Nature often rewards us in her own way.
September 11, 2019
Nancy, translated on November 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
Trapped in the rabbit hole, forever a lifelong journey
To meet and greet the cards and paint the roses red.
Sipping tea from cups that look more like forks.
Where has the Hatter gone, along with his parter the Hare?
And what of Mr. Dormouse? He's gotta be in there.
The Queen of Hearts has faded away, like a palpitation.
The Cheshire cat has spent his nine, giggling in the dark.
Dare we speak of Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee?
They got a domestic partnership, and live forever as combs.
Then we come to the White Rabbit, who seemingly late
had to be eaten, and tasted rather great.
The most pleasing thing to my mind
Was that the flower bed, soft for chattering lilies and roses
Was now harder than fruitcake, severing their vocal chords.
Now they just stood there, silent and foreboding.
All the while, I was the hub of Wonderland.
That's what you get when an Amazon goes down the Rabbit hole.
(Inspired from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass)
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
What was so cool flew out of the window.
It was only left slightly ajar.
The mad dormouse sat in his tea ***
Trying to work out what to wear.
Will today's writing hat feature war or care.
Pasting an image.
Maybe decrying, sensations of caring.
Writes sometimes audaciously daring.
Buzzing around like a wasp in my hair.
Driving me mad with his lunacy.
Decrying love story.
Then love in it's glory.
Says he wants to be free.
Guess what.
Perhaps he should try being me!
In a breath of fresh air.
He'll write a cute muse.
And in the next breath.
Another he'll abuse.
The poetry man with the black and white muse!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
The winter receded, the sun came out, the wind relaxed.
Alice went hunting for dormice.
Curiously, she peaked into nest box.
To make sure he was safe and warm.
She was truly glad.
Free from harm.
She found him safe and well.
Escaped from floods and winter's hell.
Snuggled up in minute ball.
After hiding from malevolent winter storms.
In the dark corner at the back of the box, at last with spring he came forth.
Out he sprung, he ran away.
Alice thought she'd invite him round for tea
The wakeful dormouse went out to play.
Still he's running free.
(C) Livvi
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
Treasure your holidays
in Llandudno, Alice.
Skip along the promenade,
play tag on the beach
and when it’s time for bed
wave goodnight to the sea
as it drinks the sunset.
Go boating on the Thames.
Paddle your fingers.
Listen to stories, doze.
Chase a talking white rabbit
sporting white
kid gloves.
Take tea with a dormouse,
play croquet with a Queen:
this is not your dream
but makes you smile.
Don’t wish too hard
for womanhood,
it arrives soon enough.
You’ll be feted, photographed,
posed as holy Agnes
and noble Alethea.
With "dreaming eyes of wonder"
Discover Alice
in your own looking-glass.
And when it’s time to dance
in your bridal gown
cherish the moment.
Two sons will die
fighting for their country.
Remember them
as flames that burn
long after each candle’s
blown.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
There was once a little speckled cat, with orange eyes and a silky hat. He lives in a dustbin at the end of the street where he eats pink luncheon meat. His best friend is a grey dormouse with a long tail and his neighbour; a colourful garden snail. He sits and twitches his tickly whiskers all day, drinking peppermint tea from a tiny tray and eating yellow fish from a little dish. On the weekends he plays football with street dogs and tag with green frogs. Before bed he counts each star and strums a little tune on his brown guitar. He’s everyone’s favourite speckled cat, with golden red fur and a silky hat – can you imagine that?
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC
The voices
I always trusted them
Then they led me down the rabbit hole
I stopped trusting them after that
I couldn’t trust anybody but myself
Little girls were trying to **** me
Cats appeared and disappeared
Crazy men flew around with hats and needles
Tea time was alway on time and ready
The dormouse stabbed me
The hare rambled and little alice
Oh little alice was the worst she and white put me on trail and i was found guilty
Punishment death…
The voices
I always trusted them
Then i found out they for were against me and for little alice
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
Following the white rabbit in his waistcoat
Listening to the tick tock of his pocket watch
Let's fall down the rabbit hole nestled at the trunk of the tree
And where you land is a room
An entire world hidden behind a door and all you need is the key
A nibble from a cake that makes you grow
And with a sip of a drink, you shrink
Insert the key and twist the ****
Opens the door to a world beyond imagination
There's a cat that grins
And with a smile, he disappears
Have a cup of tea and a biscuit with the Hare, the Hatter, and the Dormouse
Paint white roses red with the Red Queen
Beware of her freakishly large head
Slay the Jabberwocky with the Vorpal Sword
And restore the White Queen to her throne
I'm sure the ****** Big Head wouldn't like that
"Off with her head," she would say
Listen to the bicker of the twins, Tweedledee and Tweedledum
The Red Queen calls them her fat boys
Partake in the musings of Absolem
The hookah-smoking caterpillar who transforms into a beautiful blue butterfly
Let us escape to Wonderland
It is far more appealing than the real world
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
perhaps I'm just alice walking sideways & upsides downsides through this rabbit hole
not a downfall, a ****** to the core of the earth
but an upfall (make me bright, I can see colour & roses) to the dimension
where the creatures have
stainless steel hearts
nobody ever hurts
unless the queen begs to differ
when her corset is revealed to be
suffocating her wicked waist
the jabberwocky seeks vengeance & a chance to breathe fire
"off with her head," is the threat from the enemy
but an escape is in sight
a little locked door
chesire smiles' a menacing grin
a crescent moon in the black night
it doesn't matter where you go if you don't know where you're going
a cake platter with "eat me" on a card in front
home? what is that?
tweedledee & tweedledum
mad hattee, tea, dormouse
and an unbirthday anthem sung
lacking gravity or worldly law
along the dining table for the quirks
and fablesome creatures of wonderland
-cj
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
the elephant sits quietly
in the corner,
reading Holmes
as we tiptoe through the to,
too many words,that slipped
from tequila lips
and open-gated brains.
the leopard,
is in the bathroom
tinting his fur
to an even shade of black
and the owl
is busy outside
trying to get
the wisdom of the ages
safely back.... inside.
monkey saw,
monkey did,
monkey lies,
monkey defies,
monkey now,
in the barrel
with a nailed-down lid.
and the whale sings,
a mournful song.
the dolphins,
once again,
thank us for the fish
and then move on.
but still,
the elephant sits
and reads on...
as we fervently wish
the dormouse to appear
and slap the mopey begger
on his ample rear.
*with nods of thanks to:
folklore, CS Lewis, Dr Suess
and Douglass Adams
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
It is Fall.
Autumn sheds her golden sleeves,
skirts swishing softly
Her sunset stained fingers
slather the world in orange,
clean, crisp lines that capture the
crunch of leaves on canvas,
dabs of brooding blue,
bright, bold strokes for the brick-red
walls where the dormouse scampers.
art and wind;
Art, and wind.
do you hear the seasons
changing?
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
There's a cat with a grin.
Wicked as sin.
So it doth vanish into thin air.
Just a big grin dangling there.
In the realms of Alice.
Red queen stirring malice.
Off with her head so the red queen said.
And the dormouse slept in the tea ***
Stewing quietly.
The tea's too hot.
The fella with ****** hats.
Doffs them to the lords and ladies.
Shady character for sure.
He sips from the saucer he chucks.
Off with the queens head.
A lucky shot.
He runs and hides.
Makes a keen escape.
Alice holds him tight under her apron.
White bunny grabs them.
Up through the hole they go.
White rabbit, Mad Hatter and Alice as you know.
Scarpered along the river bank.
Sat on a rug for a minute or two.
Toes in the water.
In the house on the hill.
Daddy waits for his daughter.
She's in the garden.
She strolls back indoors.
Bunny's chucked back in his hutch.
Mad hatter is sat back on the window sill.
The looking glass beckons sweet Alice back in still.
She's had enough fun for one day.
(c)LIVVI
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
The whippet stoops low with snow on its snout
He sniffs the air, is Christmas about?
Red robin sits perched singing rousing Christmas carols
Of reindeer's, snowmen and mulled wine in oak barrels
A squirrel stands alert guarding a great Christmas sack
Full of presents for Christmas that he had to pack
And the cat can be found baking a rich Christmas cake
Waiting for Christmas to arrive, when the children awake
Then they all settle down in their warm Christmas house
And sleep until spring like a tired dormouse
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC