Alice

This is a poem I tried to write in the style of fellow poet/blog owner, the one and only Emily Ecrivaine. Hope you enjoy! 

Poem by: Clara Pond

(Cover by the lovely Emily Ecrivaine)

Alice, you have to stop going away,

Stealing to Wonderland every day,

The mushroom wears off, your mind is fried,

Do you know how much your Mother's cried?

You might be mad, but we're all not,

Too many times dreaming you've been caught,

Talking of ballymags and singing flowers,

Caterpillar sages and impossible powers.

Alice, hear me

Stop your dreams

Everything is

As it seems

Dull to you

Yet fine to me

Wake up now

To what you'll be

Remember you're still under the tree,

The reality we're all forced to see,

C'mon, Alice, stop your rhyme,

It makes no sense and I haven't the time.

The Queen of Hearts isn't the rub,

Of dear of Alice there's only a stub,

My precious sister, distraught to tears,

Decided to waste such precious years.

Alice, hear me

Stop your dreams

Everything is

As it seems

Dull to you

Yet fine to me

Wake up now

To what you'll be

I wanted her to surmount all

Instead I got her sanity's fall,

Curled up with the Cheshire Cat,

And the Madman with his Hats.

Butter flies, and plant life mocks,

In her mind Alice now gawks,

Refusing to wake up to me,

Slipping away, pretending she's free.

Alice, hear me

Stop your dreams

Everything is

As it seems

Dull to you

Yet fine to me

Wake up now

To what you'll be

Endless tea and countless dances,

Through imagination Alice prances,

Forgetting what she's left behind,

Bent on what'll be her next find.

Eventually I left her there,

At her aging body I couldn't stare,

A woman who thinks she's a girl,

In a vibrant and ridiculous world.

Alice, hear me

Stop your dreams

Everything is

As it seems

Dull to you

Yet fine to me

Wake up now

To what you'll be

By the day she awoke from sleep,

Her cocoon we could no longer keep,

She'd already been joined with the ground,

Too deep for her screams to ever be found.

Belatedly my Alice had learned,

That even in Wonderland the Circle turns,

Her purring cat dark, empty cups of tea,

Let her see what she came to be.

Sister, hear me

From the void

The reality

I did avoid

Might have been

A better choice

But I can't say

I've lost my voice

And there lies Alice, sleeplessly,

Pondering what in Death she'll see,

Until she realizes she was lost long ago,

The seeds I planted didn't grow. 

She wanders out in ghostly form,

In this shape she is forced to mourn,

Until she finds what she truly lost,

No matter how painful, or what the cost.

Died for my dreams

Buried with hope

It's the only way

I learned to cope

But is it coping

If you lose a life

A family, a future

And still have strife?