sophiadh

Mostly a visual artist, frequently a poet. Not a novelist, however many times I attempt it, but I'm getting there.  I draw the things I don't have words to write about and I write the things I can't put into pictures.  Here's some of my work!

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Myrtle’s Memorial

written at a Creative Future workshop at the Custard Factory on Monday 16 May 2016 in response to a strange blue painting of a box with what looked like three breasts, an extreme ‘outie’ tummy button and a rectangular slot… When they were writing her eulogy and designing her gravestone, her husband Fred insisted they …

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From Pole to Pole

What Keeps Her Here She held on till the daffodils split their sheaths of green the flowers too large to have been so contained and then had to wait for the forsythia Goodness knows why They have such a horrid Yellow Like instant custard Next it was the lilac Her face in it, tickled, enchanted …

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Fifty-five Years of Me

A life of Morse Di-di-di dee-dee-dee Of dots and dashes Less often, lying a full-stop Hunched, Holding an awkward position Against cushions that stab A Quasimodo I make of myself With a book or two or four or three Water and a headache pill Curtains heavy shut People-banning Angry with almost everything Or more often …

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