Sophie Reynolds has been writing poetry, plays and stories from the age of six. She grew up in the Somerset countryside before moving north to study English, Writing and Performance at the University of York, and then to London to study Creative and Life Writing at Goldsmiths College, University of London.


She has been widely published in magazines such as Magma, Acumen, Dreamcatcher, The Rialto and Time Out, and has contributed to a number of books including 26 Treasures (26/Unbound, 2012) and Shakespeare in 100 Objects (V&A/Nick Hern Books).


In 2012 Sophie created Haiku Review, a poetry blog in which she responded to plays and theatre productions performed in London theatres and around the UK.


In 2013 she was the inaugural Poet in Residence at the New Diorama Theatre in London.


In 2011 Sophie wrote a new adaptation of A Doll’s House for Theatre Delicatessen, which was produced with an all-female cast and enjoyed sell out runs at Theatre Delicatessen, London and at Latitude Festival. As a playwright she has also written for the V&A, Theatre 503 and Jermyn Street Theatre.


Sophie lives in London and works for the Victoria and Albert Museum. She is a regular contributor to V&A Magazine, an interviewer for TheatreVoice, and an assessor for


Sophie Reynolds




ISBN 978-1-909357-938


Indigo Dreams Publishing




138 x 216mm


36 pages


£6.00 + P&P UK












Shakespeare in Love


Noel Coward Theatre, London

July 2014


Playwright of the river,

drinking with whores

and mongrels

in a backstreet tavern;


Poet of Cheapside,

pressing love

onto a page

with sighs of ink.


For all your words

was there a girl

who would have been a boy

to tread the boards with you,


a girl whose heart you met

like twin souls on the stage,

before she was  

forever wrenched away?





Wolf Hall & Bring Up the Bodies


Aldwych Theatre, London

May 2014


Catherine: face of an angel,

niece of an emperor,

hard as nails. She will not bend

like a sapling, though

she is dragged of her queenship

and left out to die like a dog.


Anne, dancing in yellow

on her grave: a virgin bride,

eye like a hawk, mouth full of serpents.

Maybe a step too far, maybe a bed

or guilty door that leads her at last

to the headsman.


Jane, a dormouse creeping

into conversation: small and sweet,

with skin and will like thick, rich cream

and on her cheek a blush

that is like nothing more than a pink rose,

thorns carefully plucked.





Mies Julie


Riverside Studios, London

May 2013


Red wine, her father's best.

Red cotton dress, glaring

upon her breasts.

Their evening lust

burning down walls

and spilling blood.


Their fingers worn

upon a bruise red floor,

beneath which history

and hate will beat

and lay to rest

all hopeless thought of love.

Theatreland is a collection of poetry inspired by trips to the theatre. Each poem is a response to a live performance, revealing something special about a particular play: a resonant image or idea; a character’s journey and struggles; or the high emotion, tension and atmosphere that carried its audience that night.


You don’t need to have seen these plays to enjoy their poems. These works are beautiful, lyrical and thought-provoking in their own right, and perfectly capture something of the exciting, yet ephemeral nature of theatre.








Steptoe and Son


Lyric Hammersmith, London

March 2013


Step to it son,

spinning your song

and dance upon

this cart heavy

with scrap; dreaming

beneath the moon,

a ticking clock,

an old, chipped plate.


Pour us a drink,

stay in and let

the world spin by

the two of us;

forget the girl

who glows in your

desperate dream

of her embrace.







Hampstead Theatre, London

July 2014


Down pit you're dark as death

and hot as hell, sweltering, swearing

in relentless pitch,


up to your waist in water,

rubble, grit, coal in your eyes

and lungs, coal in your shit.


You hold the picket line

against all odds, fighting for what

you know to be man’s right;


brought to your knees for scraps

you rage and weep, as all

you ever worked for slips from sight.





Sophie headshot bw amend

“Having joyfully followed #HaikuReview on Twitter I am delighted to read these thoughtful, witty and incisive poems in a volume. In this unique meeting of poetry and theatre, Sophie Reynolds has brought her brilliant skill and talent to offer intelligent and passionate insights into some of our most thrilling recent theatre productions.”

Vicky Featherstone

Artistic Director, Royal Court Theatre


“Beautiful, insightful and intriguing. These poems conjure up many happy evenings at the theatre.”

Tim Carroll

Director, RSC/Shakespeare's Globe


“Sophie Reynolds’ eclectic UK-wide journey through contemporary Theatreland captures snapshots of memory – those ‘tastes left in the mind’ after the curtain falls. Her love of theatre shines through every page.”

Chrys Salt, MBE

Director, Playwright, Poet


" 'Theatreland' is as much an exploration of poetics and criticism as it is a beautifully written snapshot of contemporary British theatre. Reynolds brings a daring formal exploration to criticism, and a nuanced narrativity. The writing performs an orchestrated conversation; we feel present in each encounter, close to the characters, remembering as if these were our own lives to live."

Diana Damian Martin

Performance critic and dramaturg. Editor, Exeunt Magazine


Sophie Reynolds captures something of the fleeting experience of watching theatre - crystalizing character or capturing an atmosphere with evocative economy. These poems are miniature celebrations of the magic and mystery of that ephemeral art form ... impressionistic gems that serve as happy reminders of – or introductions to – some of the best plays to grace British stages in recent years.

Holly Williams

Arts journalist (The Independent on Sunday)


This fresh, evocative collection of poems by Sophie Reynolds is a must-buy for every theatre lover, actor and director. It reveals to the reader the plays from the outside looking in, as well as the theatre from the inside looking out.

Lucinda Hawksley



Twelfth Night


Shakespeare's Globe, London

September 2012


Here is a perfect sky that quickly turns

to velvet and to black.

Here is an oval wreathed in thatch

and keen, expectant faces

circling the stage. Tonight this wooden O

is made of shrill high hope and expectation,

clamour and acclaim, as after ten year’s wait

one man, one play, returns to play again.

He comes burnished with fame

and white with make-up,

guarded, tremulous; and in the face

of high-sea crowds

he dares to be as delicate and tempered

as a skittish foal, a princess

sure as heaven of her jewel case.

He takes the stage and holds it easily

as if it were a pebble in his palm. He barely sighs

but in that sigh there is the squeak

and dab of his Olivia,

the weight of water and the ocean’s depth.

He wears the dress, the face,

the woman in his every breath.