The World of Upside Down

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I come tumbling down,
falling in the world of upside down.
The journey down this hole's been harsh,
and abstract to say the least.

Everyone is mad,
and flowers talk and sing.
Drinking makes me small,
and eating makes me big.

It's a land that's ruled by cards,
and a quite ill-tempered queen;
We'll loose our heads
even for the smallest things.

A smiling cat is my only guide;
Will I make it out of here alive?
Nothing is quite the same
in the world of upside down.
Last edited by Elinor on Wed Mar 24, 2010 11:40 pm, edited 2 times in total.

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney




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I like this poem about "Alice in Wonderland."
I come tumbling down,
falling into a world of upside down,
where everyone is mad,
and flowers talk and a sing.
It's a land that's ruled by cards,
and a quite ill-tempered queen
I think you could have added some more description about the Red queen and the Cheshire cat. The rhythm of the poem was good.
Keep writing fiction.




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I come tumbling down,
falling into a world of upside down,
where everyone is mad,
and flowers talk and a sing.
It's a land that's ruled by cards,
and a quite ill-tempered queen.
A smiling cat is my only guide;
Will I make it out of here alive?
Nothing is quite the same
in the world of upside down.


I'm not quite sure what to suggest with this poem because it's very short and for all appearances very straightforward. There's nothing wrong with writing a poem that summarizes the plot of Alice and Wonderland, per se, but what's the point? You have some interesting assonance, and it's pleasant enough to read aloud, but it seems more like an idea for a poem than a poem. If you want to make more of it, you should probably find something to give it substance: some idea or experience or emotion that is yours, not C.S. Lewis LEWIS CARROLL'S I MEAN JESUS WOW WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN TODAY, with which to hold it together, and build on that accordingly. As it is, it seems like what you might find in a book report, only broken up and made a little more musical.
Nunc lac est bibendum.



For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein