Sophia White

Rookie ('90 / America)

Sophia White Poems

1. Za'Anaia, Warrior Queen 5/26/2006
2. You'Ll Never Go Solo 9/25/2006
3. You Inspire Me 10/8/2008
4. You Chose To Play 7/1/2006
5. Wretched Day 11/16/2006
6. Wouldn'T You Agree? 7/17/2006
7. Words 5/8/2006
8. Where Are You? 8/24/2007
9. When You Are With Me 5/17/2007
10. When Words Fail 3/3/2006
11. What Is Not 7/8/2006
12. What Is A Gift Worth? 4/16/2007
13. What If I Died And You Were Not Here? 11/23/2008
14. Whale 3/23/2006
15. Weeping Lebanon 6/2/2006
16. Weakness 6/21/2006
17. Water Spoons 3/6/2006
18. Wake The Books 1/25/2007
19. Waiting Candles 6/1/2006
20. Vague 5/10/2006
21. Vacillation 10/2/2006
22. Upon A Shooting In Virginia 4/16/2007
23. Up, Up, And Away 2/7/2007
24. Unwritten Poetry 9/11/2006
25. Unwind 10/22/2006
26. Unhealthy Habit? 7/20/2006
27. Unexplained 3/16/2007
28. Unearthed 10/10/2007
29. Tree Of Light 8/27/2006
30. Trapped 7/17/2006
31. Train 6/2/2006
32. To The Storyteller 3/2/2006
33. To The Old 2/27/2007
34. To Ellen And Sarah: Friends Of Yesterday 5/10/2006
35. To Be Sure 5/12/2006
36. To Be In Scotland 6/2/2006
37. Three Mice Who Hoped 5/12/2006
38. This Is The Moment 5/17/2007
39. They Come Again - In The Dark 5/31/2006
40. These Past Few Nights 5/26/2006
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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