Sophia White

Sophia White Poems

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

Spin us a tale, tell us a rhyme,
What happened “Once upon a time”?
Give us a ballad, sing us a lay
Of kings and princes far, far away.

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

Words bind me, wrapping around me like vines
And like vines they grow, and constrict, like a boa
And like a boa they hiss in my ear, the most wonderful things.

This place is now a nest of darklings.
The air is rank with all their lies.
Once it rang with truth so sparkling;
But now, in the storm, truth dies.

I've made a paper airplane
With wings of Crayola blue
I made it just for me
To fly away with you.

I loved to look upon him,
The Hunter near the Way.
So strong his arm and long his bow
And so bashful of the Day.

The sky is bright, the sun’s on the sea
The salt’s in the wind and the wind’s on me.

The world is good, the weather’s fair,

A small garden, lush with flowers
Pinks and whites and lavenders
Specked with candles in colored glass
Strolled two young and handsome lovers.

I see His mark writ in the stars
And in the ocean’s roar
I see His hand among the trees
And in the eagle’s soar.

The clouds have scared the stars away
And I am left alone.
So I weave above my head
A thousand of my own.

Sometimes I can be zany-zony orange
Crazy as a loon, Light as Splenda
Popping here and there,
Floating in the air

What I learned in vivid dreams
What I saw in gold sunbeams
What I felt in streaming rain
What I wove in daisy chains

I don’t want to run around
This great big wheeling earth
Like a hamster in a ball
Rising just to fall

When she walks outside into the golden light
Her bare feet tickled by the daffodils
Her blue eyes open wide and shine so bright.

Fragrant night
(Cool, crisp air laden with blossoms)
Somber light
(Bright round moon sends silver caresses)

Time… drags… by…
With achingly… slow… steps.
His head… is bent… with fatigue
And his energy… is spent…

There are those who merely exist.
Who srabble about the Tree of Life,
Gathering nuts and stray leaves
Building nests of dead, dry twigs.

The sky is blacker than a bottle of ink
Spilled across a panther’s pelt
In the deepest, darkest cave.

Come, boy, and let us run
And soak up all this lovely sun.
Let no one dictate where we’re going,
For soft, a light and fair wind’s blowing.

Sophia White Biography

When Sophia is not at class, doing homework, trimming hedges, spelunking, sleeping, eating, reading, or spending time with her frieds, she writes poetry. 'I first became interested in poetry when I took a class on it in the ninth grade, ' says Ms. White. 'I am enthralled by such poets as Shel Silverstein, Alfred Noyes, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Don Marquis.' When asked where she finds her inspiration for her poems, Ms White thoughtfully twirls one golden red curl around a finger before replying, 'I think that people I know well and care about a lot can move me to words, as well as particularly emotional experiences. That is when I write my more personal poems, such as 'Darklings' and 'When Words Fail.' However, when I am in a 'green' sort of mood (read 'Color Me! ') , I love to write idylls and ballads, like 'A Light and Fair Wind's Blowing', 'My Myles Has Gone Away', and 'Cursed.' Ms. White has been writing poetry for one year - 'And it's been a most lovely year, too, perhaps the best I have yet lived! ' At sixteen years old, Ms. White is a young poet, just begun on her literary endeavors. She looks forward to growing in her creativity and command of the poetic devices. 'I think structured, rhymed, and metered poems are the most delightful, ' she says, 'and I think free verse is used much too freely and in often bad taste. Much of my own free verse is ill done. It is much harder to write a structured poem, but the results are so much more rewarding.' When asked what her goal as a poet is, she promtly replies, 'I want to write poems that leave the reader with a refreshed, sweet, and pleasant taste on their lips, as though they had just sampled a small droplet of nectar from a honeysuckle.' Ms. White lives in the lush green foothills of the Appalachian mountains, where she and a small group of friends write poems frequently. She enjoys outdoor activities and anything related to literature.)

The 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 star that
Simply isn’t there?

I cannot know! Oh, God
Why must I struggle with
This doubt that pulls at me
Rends me, limb from limb?

What sort of hope leaves pain
Where it should instead leave joy?
Is this hope at all? Or perhaps
Some wicked demon’s ploy?

I cannot know! Dear heaven!
How can I even begin to dare
To hope for something – anything?
Is no assurance there?

No promise? No guarantee?
I cannot stand it! I cannot!
The doubt is a plague
In my every thought.

Dare I hope to hope
In a hope that leaves me dry
And lost? How can I dare
To hope in hope? How can I?

Sophia White Comments

Dickson Mseti 26 April 2010


6 2 Reply
Brian Dorn 26 February 2007

Sophia, your poetry is so good it makes it difficult to comment piece by piece. Instead, your gift for words instills an urgency to read on and on. In my opinion, the mark of great poetry. You have an amazing talent... you are destined for greatness. Brian

6 2 Reply
Goldy Locks 08 July 2006

Sophia White is a passionate, beautiful writer. Her delicate pictures combine clarities & understandings—aspiring for her youth. Long live her poems! Sus x

3 3 Reply

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