Finding The Pipe

 —Poetry on the Theme of  “Alice” by Lynn White,
Blaenau Ffestiniog, North Wales
—Original Illustrations for Lewis Carroll's 

Alice in Wonderland by John Tenniel

 

 

GREEN DREAMS

I am dreaming, I think
I’m dreaming
as I try to separate the layers
of real and unreal,
peel them away like the crinkled leaves
of a cabbage.
I’m peeling off the dark green leaves first.
What lies hidden beneath looks
much the same as the outside,
a little less battered, more crinkly,
a little paler with some yellow
languishing in the green,
but fundamentally the same.
Now for the next layer.
There’s a drop of water
shining full of light
and something darker, more solid,
khaki green and brown,
the leavings of some hidden creature.
Another layer reveals the holes
and then,
the sleepy caterpillar
in his cabbage camouflage,
his dietary disguise,
dreaming
of eating his greens.
He’s without his pipe,
without his crown.
So, unsure of
his identity,
much less mine,
I continue my peeling
layer after layer until
I get to the heart of it,
the pale, pale green centre
of naive youth.
Perhaps
I will soon understand 

where I’ve come from
and unpack the dream,
find the pipe, put the pieces
together,
make sense of the cabbage,
crown the king.


(prev. pub. in The Paragon Journal, 2018)

 

 

 

DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

I woke in the sunshine
and stretched sleepily.
That was when I saw
the hole under the tree
where a scraggy, stripy cat
had spat and snarled at me earlier.

It was too small for me to go down.
so I scraped
and scraped
to make it bigger.
A rabbit would have done better.

I found a stone
and started to dig,
dig till it was big
enough for me to go down.
Scrabbling
falling
scrabbling
falling,
looking for the end
wondering why
there was light
there
wondering
if I’m awake.

Then I saw the rabbit.

 

 

 

 

AFTER TIME

“I’m late,
I’m late again”,
said the White Rabbit
staring at his pocket watch
with exasperation.
He turned the minute hand back a little
and perused the new time
with satisfaction.
He knew the effect would be limited
unless he could turn back the hands
on all the clocks everywhere,
but it made him feel better
briefly.
He had pondered this issue of time
many times.
He knew that clocks and watches were irrelevant
to its passing,
which made him feel better
about his manipulation.
Philosophically speaking,
he knew that he could change the time.
He could break the watch and freeze it.
Break all the wheels that turned inside.
Smash them to smithereens.
But even then,
even when
broken,
he knew
the wheels of time
keep turning, time after time.


(prev. pub. in Capsule Stories, Summer 2019)

 

 

 

 

LIKE ALICE


I’m too big.
I’m too small.
I can’t I fit in,
fit into this rabbit-hole world,
any more than I did the other,
the above-ground world.
Both can’t be wrong,
can they?
It must be me
that doesn’t fit,
that can’t be made
to fit into the
me that's wrong.

Both worlds can’t be wrong,
can they?


(prev. pub. in Poetry Breakfast, September 2016)

 

 

 

OFF WITH HIS HAIR

“Off with his hair!” cried the Red Queen.
“I don’t think that’s quite right,” said Alice.
“It should surely be, off with his head.”
The Red Queen’s frown deepened.
She didn’t make mistakes.
It was a well known fact.
Never the less…
She shouted to Jack
who was reclining lazily as usual.
“Which is correct, hair or head?”
“Well, you are quite right, of course
as everyone knows.
But consider…
As all strength flows from hair to head,
Cutting off his hair may make it unnecessary
to cut off his head
even though all around are losing theirs.”
“Of course,” cried the Red Queen.
“Off with his hair!”
“They’re as mad as hatters,” thought Alice.
But she didn’t say so,
just in case an unfortunate judgement was made.
One couldn’t be too careful in a mad world.


(prev. pub. in Blognostics, April/May 2019)

 

 

 

THE OLD CURIOSITIES SHOP

“Curiouser and curiouser”, cried Alice
as she rummaged through the remnants
of other people’s lives,
now offered for sale,
to become part of
another person’s life.
“Curiouser and curiouser”, she said
holding up two fat schoolboy
salt and pepper pots.
“They look like real characters,
I shall name them Tweedle Dumb
and Tweedle Dumber,
for now.”


She searched in vain for a looking glass
to see if she could walk through it.

She had heard this was sometimes
a curious possibility.
But among the objects in a large shiny bag,
she did find a set of playing cards
with a fearsome-looking Queen of Hearts.
“I could write a good story about her”,
she thought.

She found the butler with his empty tray
somewhat unsatisfactory.
So she removed the tray
and hung a tape measure round his neck
and put a thimble on his finger.
Now he could measure his former master
for a new suit, she thought.
She was pleased with the transformation
and thought that maybe it was now time
to transform herself.


She undressed
and donned a little black dress
that she found in the shiny bag.
She painted her face
and covered her blond hair
with a dark wig
in a new style.
Such a pity
that there was no looking glass
for her to view her appearance.
She could only imagine
her new self.
Such a pity
that no one
would ever see
what she had created.
That no one
would ever know.


Or so she thought.


(prev. pub. in Visual Verse, July 2017)

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?

—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to the magical Lynn White for her fine, fun poetry today!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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