<![CDATA[Literature Network Forums - Blogs - ~Sophia's~ Choice by ~Sophia~]]>

<![CDATA[Literature Network Forums - Blogs - ~Sophia's~ Choice by ~Sophia~]]> https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?56988-Sophia-s-Choice The largest classic literature discussion forum on the Internet. Read Write Teach Share. en Fri, 05 Jun 2026 05:08:59 GMT vBulletin 10 https://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg <![CDATA[Literature Network Forums - Blogs - ~Sophia's~ Choice by ~Sophia~]]> https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?56988-Sophia-s-Choice Stoneheart https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9512-Stoneheart Sat, 12 Dec 2009 17:49:47 GMT

Stoneheart

be still my love - my life
the shadow nears (its
lightning arsenal firing)
why does it hunt you
why does it cry

as though its lucent sorrow could fall
into your dusky arms the way I do
one tender moment of each day
sand bound to stone

why does the scarred face of
this crumbling low not unnerve it

move on shadow, there is
nothing here for you

_________________________________

Note: The artwork is my first ever attempt at pastel. It's mixed with graphite and charcoal. Thankfully, my daughter is bringing me paints when she comes at the end of the month!
It's a drawing from one of my photos of a gravestone monument at Cimitaire Montmartre. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9512-Stoneheart Alexandre Dumas fils https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9431-Alexandre-Dumas-fils Tue, 01 Dec 2009 22:00:50 GMT I thought this being a lit forum, some might be interested in seeing Alexander Dumas' grave site. I spent the entire afternoon at the Cimetière de Montmartre. There are several painters including Edar Degas, writers and poets buried there but, Alexandre Dumas fils (son) is I would guess the most famous of them...

]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9431-Alexandre-Dumas-fils <![CDATA[I'm Here - In PARIS!!!]]> https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9418-I-m-Here-In-PARIS!!! Sun, 29 Nov 2009 20:06:07 GMT Arrived Saturday morning and, it's everything I've ever hoped or dreamed and more. I'm attaching some of the photos I've taken so far.

I am living in the 18th Arrondissement know as Montmartre. Many famous classic artists lived in this section of town or had art studios here. Though I haven't yet had time to write a poem, one is brewing! Adieu mon amis!

ps: There are more than 100 photos (in 1.5 days LOL) on my facebook. If you are interested you can see them on

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?ai...0&l=c3e92787cd ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9418-I-m-Here-In-PARIS!!! When The Hurricanes Return https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8113-When-The-Hurricanes-Return Fri, 01 May 2009 05:23:58 GMT

When The Hurricanes Return

it must have been because
(not when)
the birds and my eyes fell from the sky

that I needed something to hold and
rode at dusk on Encuentro beach

sorrel tarantula running down
the cricket’s evensong

past girls with legs like herons basking
past boys with plantains in their hands

the downbeat of hooves in the wash
raising the hackles of a resting wind

they call him Tinto - I call him Tronar

Spanish patois, mustang surge
face in his mane, remembering

I used to bareback. Maybe in June
when the hurricanes return.

-----------------------------

(that's one of my paintings) ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8113-When-The-Hurricanes-Return It Only Means https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8076-It-Only-Means Fri, 24 Apr 2009 00:01:52 GMT I’ve been to the cloud forest where wind trees wink silver and pale magnolias dissolve loose petals on a white capped sea. Where I stepped... I’ve been to the cloud forest where wind trees
wink silver and pale magnolias dissolve

loose petals on a white capped sea.

Where I stepped out of a beach towel and
thirty nine notes of Chopin’s raindrops hit the shore

I put my right foot in - I put my right foot out

but, I’m afraid of the arm’s length centipede
behind the dresser. Wiki says it lays eggs.
Now I can’t sleep -

hard - like the sleep in a vial of Dengue
take two, dream a fever

hot as the vapor that draws June bugs
bigger than June tapping at the window

of an electric city that’s disconnected the phone

I - jerked off the last tube of paint till
it came on the wall. A graphic frustration

moving - away
from street dogs with hollow legs and mouth sores

from the broken prayers of invisible children
on tanning beds at the new funeral spa ~

“24 Hours Open for Grieving” a Spanglish mutation

of firefly wings pricked by rusted pins
until, there’s only jet lag -

a carrier and enough space in two suitcases

for the music that makes me cry. The scent of
something caught on the night the hurricanes came,
the first easy breath at a castle on a hill and
the last time I remember kissing.

Still, none of it means anything.
It only means I’m leaving. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8076-It-Only-Means Trip Happy https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8065-Trip-Happy Wed, 22 Apr 2009 08:43:36 GMT We laughed that Christmas.  
God how we laughed.
 
Migrant guests trapped beneath  
a twinkle-lit princess pink canopy.
 
Two shushing kids at camp  
after lights out and the warden’s  
final warning. Snorting,
 
bellies distended - undercover  
whoopee trying not to wake the dead.  
Do I miss you between conjugals?  
Hopelessly, inconsolably, yes. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8065-Trip-Happy Fifteen Pebbles https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8031-Fifteen-Pebbles Fri, 17 Apr 2009 21:21:30 GMT There is no answer for this. Only a bored cat’s mauling of a songbird. If all I ever do is recoil from this little crime called nature I... There is no answer for this. Only a
bored cat’s mauling of a songbird.

If all I ever do is recoil from
this little crime called nature

I risk nothing. But I’ve got to risk it all,
risk everything. Weigh the world in stones
not cotton candy.

The backlash of fifty lashes to the back of
my fifteen year old skin. That first night
alone in the barn (fifteen miles from
Elvira Gulch’s home)

I was the owl that startled the swallow
and the fifteen bats zigging, zigging.

Sometimes now - for no reason - my hands
fly through my hair. Lash back. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8031-Fifteen-Pebbles Canary Monologue https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8024-Canary-Monologue Fri, 17 Apr 2009 00:17:59 GMT I often have time away from your hands to sit by the brook and babble to stones that look back at me with dispassionate curiosity. Today the... I often have time away from your hands
to sit by the brook and babble to stones
that look back at me with dispassionate
curiosity.

Today the trickle is rather dull.
A stagnating conversation of small
sonar pings between pebbles

pale as the song of this meadow
caught in my throat. Muse, take me
with you when you drift past

ordinary. Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth above -
black as the graphite that weaves between

green rain and grenades, the erotic left and
the benign right - to where the canto shimmies
and even a bird with weak wings
can pierce the sky. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8024-Canary-Monologue Current Affairs https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7802-Current-Affairs Tue, 24 Mar 2009 02:48:50 GMT How many killing fields will we sow before we’re held accountable for the feast? Speaking in tongues we defend our collective amens, finger... How many killing fields will we sow before
we’re held accountable for the feast?

Speaking in tongues we defend our collective
amens, finger the mirror and pretend
we don’t read brail.

But if humanity withers by slight of hand,
and hate is ordained in the heart of man

while the earth shudders from rockets red glare
and Grace forsakes our children in prayer

will we be missed by anyone? ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7802-Current-Affairs Piti Piti https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7773-Piti-Piti Fri, 20 Mar 2009 04:21:56 GMT http://www.aegis.com/news/mh/1997/MH970603.html An article from 1997 and if anything, the numbers have grown. Piti Piti The undertow of... http://www.aegis.com/news/mh/1997/MH970603.html
An article from 1997 and if anything, the numbers have grown.

Piti Piti

The undertow of sidewalk
cruising between worlds -
lost boys, lost girls. Piti piti
dolls with nuclear arms

strapped, thorny blood fired
from a broken thistle; feathered
shrapnel, the incubus wounds
of a dreaming pillow before

herons lift this impossible love

with cries of pity pity for every
prostitute that was born a virgin
and every virgin that dies in vein. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7773-Piti-Piti Hallmark Days https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7755-Hallmark-Days Wed, 18 Mar 2009 07:07:37 GMT Some childhood memories 
should just be left at the curb 
along with the rest of the trash. 
Rancid, like a carton of milk
with a picture of a 
missing kid on the side
and a 40 year old 
Best Before date. 

I always thought Hall
missed the mark.  

Mom… 
this Mother’s Day  
I just wanted to say 
sorry you always felt 
I ruined your life on
the day I was born.  

Dad… 
It’s Father’s Day and
I want you to know 
the warm feeling of
your strong hands
around my throat 
stayed with me. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7755-Hallmark-Days Come Here Little Girl https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7741-Come-Here-Little-Girl Mon, 16 Mar 2009 04:35:58 GMT I've edited the photo out because it was not intended to offend any Lit-netters. I will search for a less recognizable photo. Sorry.
--------------------------------------------

Come Here Little Girl

It weighs on me - this elephant in the parlor.
This larceny of wood-be Lancelots flashing
yellow teeth and green backs, the
undercurrent lucre of

tumescent little flags raised by the
holy blue grail (the drug of choice
on Rogaine Row) they swallow virility,
and swear allegiance to the loyal order
of old fools.

If I could, I would pinch their burrowing
egos with tweezers, yank the heads out
like ticks in folds. Tattoo
buying her youth won’t bring back yours
on their sorry butts and send them home
to their gullible others.

It irks me, this needy campaign without
conscience - their own sanctified wives
and daughters safe in the holy lands.
Distance absolving collateral damage,
sixteen year olds carrying baby long tooths.

Heretic at the altar. Throw a few
pesos on the collection plate, high five
the victory then shuffle onto a plane
to plan your next assault.

Of course you’re not a pedophile if
you're on a "golf vacation"
with your buddies and you
don’t ask her age. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7741-Come-Here-Little-Girl Café Olé Intermedio https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7725-Café-Olé-Intermedio Sat, 14 Mar 2009 00:32:27 GMT You gave me Carroll and Lorca I gave you Flamenco with a little Sexton on the side. My castanet clacking confessions driving your habitual... You gave me Carroll and Lorca
I gave you Flamenco with
a little Sexton on the side.
My castanet clacking confessions
driving your habitual duende.

It was always like this. 
Sinking into my reserved spot 
on our thrift shop sofa
studying

the cinder shoot rooted to your lips. 
Ash colonizing eight inches above  
the carbon stained keyboard,  
a wraith cut-out diminishing,  
the cigarette dragged on. 

Eventually you bled to death
leaving nothing but wet dreams
on the marriage bed. Did you forget
I lived in your jugular?

I miss the frothy awakenings,
Café Olé in the morning.
Your mouth tracing my torso 
the way a luthier carves willow, 
flirting with the taut narrow 
until the viola moaned 
one octave above  
the cello. ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7725-Café-Olé-Intermedio Life On A String https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7691-Life-On-A-String Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:37:47 GMT Marionette jiggling  
from nose to toes  
Pinocchio, Pinocchia,  
the Gepetto God reeled  
when I pleased him but  
just one kink and  
it was off with my  
Chakra which, never  
was the la dolce vida  
Chocolate promised so  
I moved to Phoenix  
with a stage hand to live  
in a third floor walk-up  
but my ribbons  
only dangled to  
the second string  
fiddle I never  
learned to play  
crazy  
|
|
| ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7691-Life-On-A-String Anemones https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7686-Anemones Tue, 10 Mar 2009 16:45:27 GMT

Anemones

Humidity tangles my saltwater hair,
thick knots of the intolerant me
lashing out an admonition to a God
who like the horizon flatlined

dissecting us from a distant eden.
Only the whooping vultures fatten
on the cuttings of His image; the
fleshy scraps that fall to the floor.

Their eyes - an oasis. My eyes - mutate
in the turquoise sea, black coral reefs;
amputees swaying like anemones.

Bush-league medicine staining the
flamboyance, discreetly sweeping
indigent debris under an all-inclusive
welcome mat.

______________________________

(When I moved here, I was astounded by the number of amputees. I’ve learned that health care is too expensive for at least 50% of the population and amputation is the cheapest way treat serious wounds, infections etc. Prosthetics of course are out of the question. Things they never tell you in
travel brochures) ]]> ~Sophia~ https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7686-Anemones