Sophia White Poems

I long, with blood and bone, to carve my name
Deep into the tree of glowing thought;
To set my words in wood eternal grown
So deep that time cannot wear them away.
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What if I died and you were not here
If you were far, far away
And I died while you were gone.
Would you hear of it soon?
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She has piles and piles of papers to write.
She has miles and miles of sources to cite.

She has many and many a book to read.
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There is this feeling –
Not an emotion, not a tangible sensation,
But a deep and unspeakable sense
That I cannot explain in words or in art.
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All the wishfuls desperately cry:
“Muse! Muse! O Muse! ”
But where is the muse
To enthuse
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This is a pleasant evening,
Jazzy, in a way that makes you dance.
If it were a color, I’d call it transparent blue,
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The door is shut, the window is open.
The gossamer curtains are dancing in the breeze
And I hear, distantly, a squirrel chattering in the trees.
The world is quiet here.
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Blue eyes caught me
For a moment.

Blue eyes smiled
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Wrapped up in my dreams, nothing can go wrong
Night is moonlit and the days are long
Thoughts are reality, my world is my own song,
And butterflies don’t get trapped in spiderwebs.
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She saw a man on television
In a suit and tie
And he wore a fine felt hat
Cocked over his eye.
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