Behind Locked Doors

This poem was originally supposed to be a series of poems concerning the Alice In Wonderland/Through The Looking Glass novels by Lewis Carroll. I found it difficult to complete the series beyond this poem, but I decided to keep this poem nonetheless. It concerns Alice’s original fall into Wonderland and her escape into the wild worlds of which she thought she could visit within the realm of dreams.

Infantile girl, in a bewitching world
subject to all colours becoming unfurled.
Her eyes so full, from an innermost pull,
a child no duller than a worldly fool.

She rejected her call, with an almighty fall,
crashing through windows, over piano stools.
She counted the chimes, of a grandfather’s strike
as she recanted her heirloom nursery rhyme.

On marble she smashed, it was a welcome crash,
a landing without trace of blood or gash.
In a chamber she lay, it appeared she must stay,
a parliament of locked doors denied her way.

A key did appear, it was nowhere to near,
thus she engulfed it in her tide of tears.
She swallowed her shame and her thoughts overcame,
her revulsion at her place in this game.

It was a potion she saw, sat just atop the floor,
instructing ‘drink half, absolutely no more’.
She sipped without care, and burst through the air,
the key in hand but not going anywhere.

A cake she did see, emblazoned ‘eat me’,
a risk taken under notions of a dream.
Minute as a mouse, in a manorial house,
she ducked through the doorway and she got out.