Down the tricky rabbit hole

I descended an awful depth

The ground fell from under my feet

’twas a downward leap of faith.

Growing smaller and smaller

Somehow I grew taller, reaching heights unknown.

The door knob bumped against my head

And caused a swollen collar bone.

But I hit the floor at last, Thank God,

’twas made of checkered stones.

Through a giant keyhole I saw a world instead,

Opened up like an oyster, in its pretty shell.

The sky was crazy crimson

but the clouds were bleak and pale…

In the garden, The Duchess sat

(plonk upon a mad hatter’s hat),

She was rather busy, spinning the tallest tale.

The Duchess she sat, upon the hat,

So madly glad and gay,

The March hare was quite certain

That ‘twas the merry month of May!

The Red Queen would have none of it

So throwing a huffy puffy fit,

She cried out in a puffy huff,

“I don’t see the point of it!”

Brandishing a sword as dull and dry

As her mindless wit,

“Off with their heads” she loudly shrieked,

“Now just get on with it!”

The undulating caterpillar

Shrugged a soft yet sinewy spine,

It looked cuddly cute and strangely mute

Holding an ornate hookah fine.

The Cheshire cat appeared too for a little while

With an almost-but-not-quite, enigmatic smile.

I drank my tea out of a dainty lobster shell

‘twas a lovely hollow scoop with a tiny pointy tail

Spiraling out of my fingers, wriggling very well

And in it swam, snarling, a sniveling snooty snail.

The tea was lovely, the tea was good

There were cakes and scones, and mouthwatering food,

But they didn’t behave, the way good food should.

The cakes refused to allow the edgy knife

To carve out even the thinnest slice

Jumping off the table for their scrumptious lives.

’twas naughty of them, they were just not nice.

The scones were sadly falling apart, silently they cried

Dripping bitter butter from their moist and runny eyes

Limp with defeat they complained

how the walrus always lied.

I fell to wondering why they were so sad

I really couldn’t eat the poor lads

So I sipped my lobster shell of tea

And asked the scones to tell me

Who the Walrus was and what was his crime

But that’s a story for another time.

© Amrita Valan

Excerpt from the book “Down The Rabbit Hole”

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About the Book:

Tick tock says the magic clock

In a language that’s part of the soul

Get in line for the gate

You don’t want to be late

For your trip down the rabbit hole…

“Down the Rabbit Hole” is a collective work of writings from poets who like you, live their lives inundated with the challenges and demands of everyday life. They have unlocked the door to boundaries we all make for ourselves and turned those boundaries into fantastic, beautiful worlds to both help ease the boredom and perhaps spark the imagination.

Lyne Beringer, Author of “Alaskan Vogue – Poetry From the Land of Ice and Shadows”

This book was sponsored by the Starving Artist Fund by the publishing group Creative Talents Unleashed.

100% of all proceeds from this book are being donated to the “Starving Artist Fund” to assist writers in becoming published authors. Please support a writer today!

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