"wonderlands" poems
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
"Wait a year, they said, wait a year and things will get better. They think one single lapse of a human’s concept of collected time can change anything. A year she waited, she listened; she had to. But the year came, and the year then went, and nothing had changed. The girl was left with nothing. There was a hole, a chasm, never to be filled and never to be touched. There was nothing left and soon she could not find words, syllables, even sound."
A year ago, this is what I expected. Funny how a character I created much darker than I, actually reflected the shadows of my soul. I never realized she was me, the darker me, the hidden me, the me I was after I lost Him.
The depression is real. Its is apart of me. The swirling vortex I'm so afraid of I have to accept. But it doesn't mean I cannot smile. The turbulent tremors of my aching heart will forever be apart of me, but they do not control me. I control me.
Control. That is something I thought I lacked, but I realize it is my strength. Without my strength, the dark wonderlands of my heart would have taken me already, to a place that would be darker than imagined.
I didn't want the world to see me, because I didn't think they'd understand. And when it came to him, I was right. He didn't understand why I couldn't just **** it up and smile, why my outlook wasn't so positive, why I was looking at the world so darkly.
Its a dark world, darling, if he knew me, he'd know its actually optimism most days. But no, all he saw was the darkness and how I could not overcome it and it broke me from him, like a rock from a shore.
I felt like a rock with him, not a season, that is until I met more people who could understand, who could see my face behind these broken eyes. It murdered my never-ending love for him, because I could finally see I could do better, I could be happier.
Bipolar 2.
That's me, but it doesn't control me.
Not anymore.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
I never knew what true love is;
Until you came and brought the chills.
I never knew the magic in the kiss;
Until on it, you put a twist.
I never have skipped a heartbeat;
Until you passed by with a smile that's so sweet.
I never felt and never acted crazy;
Until your words became so cheesy.
I never believed at love at first sight;
Until you captured me at random one sigh.
I never cared about wonderlands;
Until you introduced Peter Pan on my mind.
I never thought I’ll need you in my life;
Until destiny crossed by and brought a good vibe.
I never asked for more than anything;
Until your love made me believe about this everything.
© Quenniebells, 2015
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
I painted you wonderlands of sorry
I flew over mountains of pain
And I swam in the coldest part of regret
But none of it
Made you
Forgive
Me
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Tell me night, ****** beast, in the forest,
how long have you been lying in wait,
catching my scent like a hound, don't hide
the truth, it's the moment that completes.
I know well, how desperately you want
to take me in to your warm bear hug,
as I pass through the labyrinths
subjected to the onslaught of light
in it's varied intensities and hues.
An expectant silence following , you are patient
count my every heart beat and draws me near.
Floating and diving in the blue sea waves
I covet a flourascent green sheet of water
to play with, take me to the coral wonderlands.
In an oblivious mood I stand under the rain cloud
receiving the soft caresses of blue rain in my brain
it touches my heart, gently rocking, anesthetizing
my mind and making me safe from the raging wild fire.
Here I sit on the rock jutting in to the sea below
immersed in the vermilion-gold splash on the horizon
a wild ecstatic sunset, never once looking like one before,
a wintry wind blows telling me all the hidden truths
Now I would come to your moon anointed bed
for our long awaited tryst; an ultimate ****** encounter.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
Mistletoe hanging on the door hinge
A mess of tacky holiday sweaters
Caroling in the streets of snowy wonderlands
and houses flashing red blue and orange.
Wishlists to Santa sent in the mail
Gingerbread houses are built
Families tobogganing down the hills
Leaving behind a sleek icy trail.
Holiday shopping is nearing its craze
Christmas trees cluttered with presents
Little girls and boys staying up late
waiting for Santa 'til they fall asleep in a daze.
The scent of ham is filling the halls
Loved ones gather 'round
While children open their presents
and compare their rockets and dolls.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 4:31 PM UTC
For Alice (Who used to be me)
I have believed in fairy tales
Once I walked in worlds of rosy hue
I lived in Wonderland and Counterpane
dreaming dreams I knew would all come true
Morning turns to noon day to evening all too soon
Oz can turn to ashes in just a day
Princes return as frogs to their lily pads
Wonderlands Alice is a matron growing grey
No one comes to kiss the princess as she sleeps,
Knights in shining armor ride no more.
Tinker bell is dying with no one to believe.
The Mad Hatter is laughing at the door.
The dragon is not slain but lives in glory
Roxanne always marries Christian after all
Cinderella sits forever midst the ashes
Too late for Alice the door is much to small
The Emerald City's walls are bottle glass
And reality has crushed them neath its heel
The yellow brick road leads nowhere very quickly
And Alice knows that lonely is the only thing she'll feel
oh! let alice return to Wonderland again,
Away from the mud and slime outside the looking glass.
Life is much to large without that tiny door,
And she would seek the March Hares party where time will never pass.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
Hard pang of metal
louder than my
brittle ears can withstand.
Hard ping of wonder
sent, malicious,
from hidden wonderlands.
Cleave
my warm limbs from me.
Rip
my innards from me.
Substitute synthetic
amplification
for my
basic
weakness.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
You dug today
Some mud and clay
With two-year-old hands
And a giant *****
You dug today
A new place to play
Filthy, muddy wonderlands;
Just the place for an escapade!
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 6:46 PM UTC
they fall into slumbers
under mossy lumber
as we walk with the sun
when the moon bounces on hills
and the wheels slow down on mills
that's when they stretch their limbs
on cobble stone roads
and homes owned by groaning toads
they paint the fresh prints of tomorrows
so when we rise
in misty morning tides
we will have a new place to go
but who are these things
the ones with paper mache' wings
that glide for us in the night?
could they be malice
the one who pushes Alice
down into the wonderlands of our mind
or are they that saints
marching with golden shaded paints
to color our paths of divine
no one will know
for they mingle with just the crows
to us
they are simply the silent ones.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
I am an early bird
My creativity wakes me up from my sleep
I dream about poetry
My nights are wonderlands
I am a poet
I am an original
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
Blue tree of life
Holding your arms for all to see
dripping with wonderlands regain to be
peaceful upon stoic breezes
kissing the cascading rain
there you were once again...
There were moments we once belonged
but now everything seems so wrong
sitting beneath your branches so strong
reaching for my life once more
waterfalls spray and wash us clean
Your blue limbs for all to see
holding my hand till eternity
Crying the tears of beauty....... your broken Sun
wondering where it had all begun
My blue blue tree of life
cry me a million tears tonight
Debbie Brooks 2014
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
A dream is a gushing rarity
Throbbing in explicable clarity.
It stretches the walls of imagination
To seamless leaps of pulsate stagnation.
It blows in a raging flight
Racing blindly upon each bend.
A prism to a faulty sight
To see the beginning from end.
It cuffs the voice of reason
And frees the mind from prison
To hover and graciously be blown
Forth vast wonderlands unknown.
It tricks the heart to please
And be happy in vanity.
That the sorrows cease
And we awe in queer insanity.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Alice had forgotten what happiness felt like. It’s been long since hers plummeted to rabbit holes with non-existent Wonderlands — hers plummeted to rabbit holes, from which it was never again able to climb back from.
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 6:37 AM UTC
I am like her, you know.
I am like Alice;
but the flowers and the rabbit, they speak a different language.
And when the Cheshire cat
tells me his riddles, I am alone.
My eyes see his moving mouth,
and I am a creature of Death
in my burning solitude.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 3:28 PM UTC
A place where dark becomes the light
and inner candle burns so bright.
Where dreams center to grow and sprout
and feel great peace so one can shout.
A place where love drifts in the clouds
and sounds of birds play nice and loud.
Where you and me can feel as one
inside the night and setting sun.
A Wonderlands not far at all
It is the place where we stand tall.
To face great change for fear to fade
replaced by love do join parade.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
Our love isn’t at ease,
just like the wind in white acacias
and like a bead on child’s hand,
it’s not at ease.
In it they miss – wonderlands,
delights, flame and solace.
And none of us will call it my own
before it passes us on slightly.
And it will stay somewhere – far away,
unapproachable, uneasy.
And yellow leaves will whisper in snows.
Our love isn’t at ease.
It isn’t at ease.
The original:
***
Не е спокойна нашата любов,
тъй както вятър в белите акации
и като мънисто на ръката на дете,
не е спокойна.
Във нея няма чудни светове,
възторзи, пламък и утеха.
И никой своя няма да я назове
преди да ни отмине леко.
И ще остане някъде – далечна,
непостижима, неудобна.
И жълтите листа ще шепнат в снегове.
Не е спокойна нашата любов.
Не е спокойна.
*Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
© bogpan - all rights reserved.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 9:00 PM UTC
my small frame always had no place in your wandering eyes.
you dream of unmapped universes – endless seas and abstract love.
but i was stumbling in the little things:
all of our moments and our lack thereof.
you waltzed through the days, the months and the years
you sought sunsets and moon phases in an endless chase
but i was left begging after the seconds,
for another moment in your embrace.
to you i am but a dismissive sentence in your explorer's log,
a grain of salt in a desert of sands.
but to you i will dedicate stanzas and lines –
all the prettiest adjectives for our abandoned wonderlands.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
with my feet on the ground
and my head in the clouds
I try to survive this trip stepping around
every stranger in the strange crowds
dreamers have no place in this world
so my heart fights my day job habits
my creativity shot from cannons is hurled
while I run down holes chasing white rabbits
have I lost my mind?
where was it before I asked?
did all the drugs politely turn down all the questions of my kind?
did every line of coke spell answers to my lifelong pain masked?
with my tie on to make a dollar
I can shake your hand with the fakest of faces
but the relief I need to loosen the collar
always leaves little strung out traces
but isn't life made to never count one person?
isn't that why we marry and breed?
so we have misery's company as the days worsen
and an excuse for the green bill greed
you think I fear the conference room meeting?
I'm more afraid of Captain Hook
because as I grow down I realize the stories
were precious distractions from all the beatings I took
**** you wear my life for a day and try to endure the hurt
I've learned the pain killers that go down like spoonfuls of sugar
I've learned to suture when the blood spurts
and the bars and friends with compliments will always be my pushers
so with feet on the ground where the killers carry all the keys
I keep my head above all that's you spell out as real
and I'll never take another **** on my knees
because the pushers and the wonderlands make sure I never have to feel
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
within my walk an ocean sloshes
within galoshes to the drag of
two muffled feet past wonderlands
but with eyes under - galoshes over wonderlands
and yarning-balls of lads pry at my vast inertia
and wonder why they for gravitas
and decorum and the bouncing of a high pompadour
cannot shake spray or splutter
what we were vast weights -
lest we change or (worse)
gets better
through wet feet but drying calf
blazing with hypothermia
sloshing-still
through the lucid air of a vast globe tied-
to a wast treadmill round and walking
lamely talking, for the trip
dries stagnant and still the tides
bow to my mammoth galoshes
and Hercules to my panoply
while up your thumbs
and down your *****
are shrugs only
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Long ago
Long before the dawn of his youth
Lived a boy, a young boy
A boy who had a dream
A childhood dream.
He would lay at the forest glade
And gaze, gaze in wonder
At the peculiar workings of the earth.
He would count all the birds of the sky
Wander into the dark forest deep
Stroll by the humming river
And paint with all the colors of the earth.
The night's inner glow,
The wild's cheerful tune;
All of earth's splashy marvel
Would prompt his thoughts
To travel the world
In search of a secret.
The blue waters of the Pacific seemed a decent start, he thought
Perhaps a swim in the depths of Waikiki Beach
Or a hike up Mt. Rainier
A stroll in the scenic wonderlands of Northern Idaho
Maybe a nice dinner in Broadmoor Hotel at Colorado Springs
Or build a cabin in Minnesota's lake country
A day picnic at Mt. Chocorua
A quick walk down Boston Common
Or a Tulip time at Bronx,
Drifted his mind.
Bend of Susquehanna, Cayuga Lake, Chesapeake Bay, Rehoboth Beach
Flashed upon his sight.
Then one day, not long ago
To his surprise
He found the secret
Veiled in one who owns his heart.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
*I am wine in a jack-in-a-box cellar
Wonderlands, neverlands propelling in a boomerang war
Exalting stubborn as weeds in the gardens of well-tended graves
As far off as the most withered waves*
**I'll drop my roses of singularity
And let the world leap topsy turvy**
*Eyes turned upside down like folded floral peels before a fallen angel
Rubbing errant pointed brushes against an airy easel
The teapots are now dancing round rainbow tornadoes
Clocks reverse themselves in a scourge of a prose*
**I'll drop my roses of singularity
And let the world leap topsy turvy**
*Singing horses dallying kings and queens with whips of cod
Skinny, scorned nutcrackers lolly gagging for a later maraud
Spoons racing Jack and Jill down a spiny valley of prats
I'd shut them off, they come alive with vicious spats*
**I'll drop my roses of singularity
And let the world leap topsy turvy**
*My trappings with all things mad
Wafted me ajar a silvery smoke of sad
I breathe the clouds of my helter skelter
As if in every catatonic whir it flutters rises an answer*
**I'll drop my roses of singularity
And let the world leap topsy turvy**
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Do you see me as a blemish?
Do you see me as a wreckage?
Do you see us as a fleeting second?
I reckon you don’t know the shape of my hands impression
Because you hazard hold on to her lesion-lesson
Well, if you could pay attention
I’ve got twenty one pilot pairs of scissors from Edwards hands
And magic from Peter Pan that I met in Neverland
That line Narnia’s closet door
Hidden in Alice of Wonderlands floor
Do you see me as a passing sigh?
Do you see me as replacement high?
Do you see us as a goodbye?
I reckon you don’t know how your thoughts could fly
Because you got glued down by the bad guy
Well, if you allow that glue to lessen
Ren McCormack would give you a dance lesson
And I’ll teach you how to be fluorescent
Like how jellyfish bioluminescent
We would never waste a second
Only love, would we beckon
Do you see me as a wreckage?
Do you see us as a fleeting second?
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
for years they have wandered,
they have tip-toed through wonderlands and graveyards,
through cities and villages, through meadows and forests
you can tell from the scars that they were damaged,
that each terrain made a mark on their fragile skin
we spend an absurd amount of attention
on how those marks came to be; not enough
on the middle, who struggles to wash them off
no,
i will not tell you how
they felt as a tiny speck of pink dust
being brought into this enormous universe;
but i can repeat the story of their
breeze of a birth, a breath of fresh air
i will not tell you how
they felt changing addresses;
but i can repeat the story of how
their family packed their bags
and moved two blocks away,
leaving their father to grow
a collection of empty bottles
in his empty apartment
however,
i will tell you of the time
they found a constant star
in their ever-changing sky;
it burned them with each touch,
but they kept coming back,
intoxicated by the light
this star burned too bright for
our flickering lightbulb of a hero
i will tell you of the time
they changed zip codes, twice
in the span of eight months;
lost everything except for
dusty yearbooks,
hidden scars,
and a broken body.
each land pushed our hero
into infectious isolation
our hero began to grow in,
but they wanted to grow out
i will tell you of the time
they stared into another person's eyes;
felt caterpillars crawling
in their stomach,
unsure if they would grow
into moths or butterflies
but these caterpillars
never wove a cocoon
and our hero was left with
wriggling worms in their stomach
i will not tell you of the past
if it does not affect the present.
old scars are no concern;
they are only reminders that
the past was real
this life they lead
is something in-between;
between firsts and lasts
between new scars and old
between beginnings and endings
this origin story is being rewritten.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC