Sophia White

Rookie ('90 / America)

Sophia White Poems

1. Water Spoons 3/6/2006
2. Sharp Rocks 3/9/2006
3. Orion 5/8/2006
4. Porcupine 5/10/2006
5. Art 5/10/2006
6. Pride 5/10/2006
7. The Constant Wolf 5/10/2006
8. To Ellen And Sarah: Friends Of Yesterday 5/10/2006
9. Vague 5/10/2006
10. Mother 5/11/2006
11. Promise Kept 3/3/2006
12. When Words Fail 3/3/2006
13. Composed At 10: 15 Friday Night 3/3/2006
14. The World Of The Toothless Alligators 3/5/2006
15. The Lighthouse Beacon 5/12/2006
16. I Cannot 5/12/2006
17. To Be Sure 5/12/2006
18. Three Mice Who Hoped 5/12/2006
19. Mother's Day Bouquet 5/12/2006
20. The Land Behind (Or) I Can See 5/14/2006
21. Poemhunter 5/14/2006
22. Essence 5/15/2006
23. Heroica 5/21/2006
24. Child Sense 5/21/2006
25. The Three Quills 5/24/2006
26. A Woven Web Of Light 5/25/2006
27. A Thousand Knights! 5/25/2006
28. One Star 5/25/2006
29. A Study In Murder 5/25/2006
30. Song Of Rusviel 5/26/2006
31. Song Of Roth 5/26/2006
32. Za'Anaia, Warrior Queen 5/26/2006
33. All Praise Saphilora 5/26/2006
34. These Past Few Nights 5/26/2006
35. Ria's Pool 5/26/2006
36. Alas 5/26/2006
37. The Poet, On Seeing A Mess, Groans: 5/27/2006
38. The Poet, While Hiding In Some Closet, Gloats: 5/27/2006
39. Mask Maker 5/27/2006
40. The Painted 5/27/2006
Best Poem of Sophia White

Dare I Hope?

Dare I hope to hope?
Is it safe? Is it right?
Am I hoping for nothing
But a black and empty night?

Hope should make me happy.
I should laugh, sing, and dance
Because I am hoping. Right?
Ha! Not a chance.

How is it that hope can leave me
Trembling in the darkness?
How is it that something so “good”
Should leave me feeling helpless?

Dare I hope to hope?
What difference does it make?
Fate will be fate in the end,
It will either “make or break.”

Does Fate regard my hope?
Does She listen? Or care?
Am I shooting for a ...

Read the full of Dare I Hope?

Something About A Forest

There’s just something about a forest
That makes the turbulent soul fall still
And listen to the mournful dirge
Of the solemn whipporwhill.

There’s just something about a forest
That makes closed eyes want to look
At the rippling, tippling kaleidescope
Of the steady-flowing brook.

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