Sophia White Poems

Bending, leaning, bearing up so many years,
Looking to fall – but stronger than stone!
By the stony brook, he stands alone.
...

What ho! A day’s work is done.
Work indeed! For I’ve done none.
No bread is earned, no bacon won,
Oh, the sand of words is run.
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So you wish to dance with me? Come then.
I’ll lead you on a dance as was never danced by men.
Follow me through shaded brake and glen
Through dappled wood our winding path shall wend.
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It was on a night of fog I died,
And I remember just one thing:
How the mists were white.
In wraithlike beauty, they sat
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The sun comes after the rain
And the lost come home again
The seasons each tarry a while
Bringing shares of tears and smiles
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I’ll paint a perfect afternoon in Georgia,
When the sun is steaming in the sky:
I am sitting alone on the veranda
Made of glass walls eight feet high
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My eyes slide slowly off the screen of the computer
To stare blankly at its reflection on the surface of my tea.
I tap the cup, and the reflection ripples. Looking up again,
I see my computer rippling, too, and as as translucent as the sea.
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Dear girl,

Words are words, faulty things
One word can mean, well, anything.
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The chimes upon the arbor
Are set to ring!
Harken, all ye peoples -
Hear them sing:
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Your road is set before you, a road that’s paved in stone
Stone from distant planets of galaxies unknown
It’s lined with trees and columns, all woven tight with vines
That cast across your future shades of tangles lines.
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