Alice is Waiting

This is actually amazing! I didn't think she was dead, I thought she was waiting for death but was a bit mentally ill and was imagining a room full of friends even though she was really alone. Don't know if this was intended but I loved it anyway. Excellent spooky feel... amazing XD

Like the other review, I also thought Alice was dead...until the last stanza.

I feel that some stanzas you try to fit in one too many syllables to read at a steady pace. The good thing about doing this, however, is to give the poem a unique feel and rhythm.

I have to say, that to me, the poem gives the impression that Alice is almost dead, or caught in-between life and death and in her own prison. Is this the impression you want to give?

Let me say this: This is the best poem I've read in ages. I feel that though the rhythm is a little off, you shouldn't change it at all. This poem is near perfect. I love the mood you've set and your descriptions and the sadness and melancholy Alice herself emanates. Oh my goodness. If I could write something half as good as this, I'd be super blessed.

Keep writing. This was a wonderful reading.

Hey

I really liked this, especially the description and the rhyme scheme. Most of this rolled right off the tongue. Dark poetry like this are some of my favorites. And I hope you were intending it this way, but I pictured Alice from Alice in Wonderland...

Anyway, I only have a few points to say, one of them being that I understood it all up until the last stanza. I was getting the impression she was dead, but then she spoke so I got confused. Sorry if that's just my tired brain not working and I missed something.

Mostly I just thought there were issues with punctuation. I made my corrections in red.

Trees now brown and withered still,
As darkness reigns with horrid chill.
Hidden away, her body broken,
There sleeps Alice, never to be woken. No comments on this stanza. It's fantastic and I love it.

Hair of silver, down her back;
Sunken eyes, glitter black.
Her boney flesh, thin like paper--
Her breath escapes, as sickly vapor. I just changed some of the punctuation because I thought it seemed funky, and the stanza seem monotonous.

Candles flicker on the wall,
While Alice sits, with tattered shawl;
Dress of blue and dress of white,
Sitting there, her lonely plight.

The room so tiny, painted red,
The table’s set with uneaten spread.
There she sits, and there she waits,
With dusty cups and empty plates.

At center table, sits wilted flowers.
Clocks, they’ve stopped counting hours, (I put the second comma after "hours" instead of before "counting" because it seemd to make more sense that way)
Stacks of invites, yellow with age;
Still she sits, in lonesome cage.

She sits alone, with an empty smile.
“Won’t you come and stay awhile?
Come and have some tasty tea
But once you enter, you can’t go free."