Wormhole Poems - Poems about Wormhole

Alice Can't Slip Through the Wormhole

It's been many months since I saw 'Malice'
In fact, she was hard to recognize  
There's a faraway look in her bloodshot eyes
She resembles a Michelin man with loads of spare tires
Her blue and white dress is strained at the seams,

Good god she's put on so much weight
It must be so annoying
that she can't slip

Alice Through The Wormhole

After Alice almost forgot her exhilarating experience 
in the dream of her visit to the wonderland,
her imaginative mind drove her often outdoors onto
the open expanse of the undulating landscape 
that rolled before her dreamy eyes with animated fantasy.

One night as she was spell-bound, 
gazing at the star-crowned sky,
she felt she flew beyond the galaxy 
and

Alice Through The Wormhole

Blinding rays of moonlight pierce through windblown curtains, whilst droplets of sweat bead on a heavy forehead. Sleep becomes more elusive with every tick of the clock, as insomniac nights and broken days gnaw into a fever-worn Alice. A herbal tea sits untouched on her bedside table—she’s too feeble to muster the strength to drink

Wormhole Wonderland

She followed a rabbit
stitched from stardust,
leaping between planets
like lily pads of light.

A comet brushed her cheek
a whisper,
a secret,
a scent of home long gone.

Her dress,
woven from constellations,
twirled in zero gravity,
threads unraveling into galaxies.

The wormhole found her.
Not a door,
but a pulse,
a soft tear in the silence. She stepped in.

Light bent like memory.
Time folded into origami.
She became
a thought,
a

Cassiopeia

Just like her favorite character Alice, she wears a light blue dress and a pinafore, she pairs it up with white tights and black Mary Jane shoes.   A black ribbon pulls hair tight, she adds something else, around her neck a skeleton key adorns.  It was her grandfather’s, an amiable, pleasant friendly

The Wormhole Wore a Waistcoat

She entered unannounced; no bell, no brass. The aperture, a bureaucratic lapse in Nature’s accounting, permitted transit for the curious, not the wise. Through corridors of warped conjecture, she drifted—unclaimed luggage of a thought experiment. Each particle bowed with procedural discipline; each law maintained protocol under duress.

The stars retracted their nominations, preferring anonymity to metaphor.

Alice Through The Wormhole

Alice lay reflecting on the adventures she had
The characters she met there - good and bad
The lessons she learned in Wonderland,
The tea party that wasn't so grand...
Once again she began to ponder
What about life outside Earth and beyond her?
A sudden gust blasted open her door
And swept her away to the unknown once more!
And what would

ALICE THROUGH THE WORMHOLE

*For Tom Woody contest

Curiouser and curiouser thinks Alice.
Why must I always follow that rabbit?
Last time it didn’t work out well,
I must try to break the habit.

This time they’re on a spaceship
And she’s suddenly floating around.
Ever since they blasted off,
Her feet haven’t touched the ground.

But at least her height remains constant.
No more shrinking then growing.
But where

Alice Through The Wormhole

"I'm bored," said Alice to nobody in particular. Lying in her bedroom, gazing wistfully at the stars, she often wondered what life might be like on another planet. School was boring, she didn't have any friends to speak of, and it had been nearly four years since her trip to Wonderland. "Not even a teenager

Alice Through The Wormhole

The wormhole led them to a desert, 
where they could see dunes ahead. 
The elf looked at Alice, nodded, and smiled. 
She understood what his smile meant. 
A few hours later, they stood in front of the dunes 
When suddenly sentinels appeared around them. 
Alice looked at the elf, and he smiled at her again.

Wonderland

Day 1
I fall—not through space
something thinner—
like light stretched
too far
across the skin of a thought
I buried years ago

The tunnel hums
with memory—
a child’s scream rising into laughter,
the sting of ozone before the storm
the flicker between blinks
where everything vanishes

Darkness
Sun blinds— 

Day 2
The sky is a calm equation—
no clouds, no noise,
just light folded neatly
like fresh hospital sheets

The grass soft

BUCKLE UP ALICE

Poem written for “Alice Through the Wormhole” Poetry Contest, Tom Woody, Sponsor, July 2025

BUCKLE UP ALICE!
Buckle up, Alice, for the cosmos calls!

The stars beckon with a siren song of the unknown.
The air crackles, charged with electricity.
Gravity bends and warps, pulling at the seams of reality. 
Time stretches, a rubber band pulled taut.
Can you see it,

Alice Through the Logical Wormhole

Good evening, sir, my name is Alice.
A man of peculiar predilections, 
Lewis Carroll, made me, not from malice.
Rather, more so, from his affections. 

A pen name for a man, pedagogic, 
Charles Dodgson was the given name 
of this Oxford professor of sound logic.
To me, he's Lewis Carroll, just the same.

If my creator made another choice,
and

Alice's Adventure Down The Wormhole

Early one morn, Alice spied a strange spaceship, 
Rocketing towards her, with a rabbit cracking a whip.
In the blink of an eye, it landed beside her.
Out popped the rabbit, yelling in a frenzied blur: 
"It's Time, It's Time, No Time to Waste;" 
"Space Time is Here! Let's bolt with haste."
"We're off, to who knows when

Supernova Bossa Nova

Now I’m ninety solar masses and I grow as I accrete
all the inter-stellar gasses near my neighbors when we meet.
My doctor says I’ve grown too fat too fast, “… it’s unsustainable!”
But I’ve big plans for a big blast that I know is attainable:

I’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
Let’s do the

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