ALICE
Sitting on a fringed ledge in the morning, contemplating on the beauteous and simple stanzas of nature.
The beacon glorifies the scorching caress of the grandiose sun, the trees glared and whistled on the Herculean billows
An hour glass is enduring in the diamond of sands, the petals delighted in the slow dance of the tangles
As I languish in mellow havoc with time and belie one’s self from nuisance, a little girl bustled beforehand with a genial silhouette appeared in translucence
She cradled my hand and brought me to her wonderland and a scent of happiness was all around
She was in the mainstream of a rampage crowd but they were spell bound by her magic soughed.
She vented with the hatter and enlivened his heart, she is the frisky harlequin of every man in roughed
Alone she ambled like a thief in the night to the vicinity of a mystical door, she insinuates in defiance for a savior
And now we were trap in the ungraceful maze, and underneath is a fiery blaze. In all awe I saw an alcazar of enthralling ace cards, she named it as her graveyard.
She brought tea to the three enchanting rabbits trifled underneath the palm trees, She‘s generous even to the bandits travelling around the sullen fields
I fathomed the king and queen caper the shafts on bland and unflattering wall, this fine-grained damsel is like a pawn, noble and a faithful servant of them all.
When everything falls down she rises up again, forms another cloud filled with giddy moisture patiently waiting for her emancipation.
The she heard the blustering sound of the ringing bell, she spurred in the moment walking above the perilous braiding for the open door, but everything turned pale
She cried for she can no longer find way to return to her wonderland. .Oh sweet child, now singing the lonely tunes of the underground.
She search for a family portrait but it was not found, she quench to hear a lullaby but there was no sound
She won’t let go of the kite…She was all in fright, Once was a fragile face now a grotesque imprint of pain.
The golden beam now escapes her grimace and all I could gaze is a broken trace
Oh poor Alice of wonderland……..
I carried her with my arms and lay her in the sands…The hourglass vanished in quick episode…walloping waves has captured her.
…Oh they had taken Alice, prison in the icy colds of Davy Jones’ Locker.
I looked below the mirrored and reflecting façade, it showed me nothing but a vague reflection of my own countenance
This is a metamorphical poem about myself...............hahahhahahaa..............
