Thursday, December 1, 2016




Is sad if one cannot dream
of rivers bathed in bluish-green
or mossy beds on which to lie~

Would be the saddest shame
If one could not drown in passion's rain
Or clutch to vines of purple ribbons~

No regrets lie in a mind of sensuality
that has a playground of amusements
parks filled with birds of scarlet and tiny flowers~

Hope hanging like festooned branches
glimmers of dew drenched like diamonds
ponds tucked within trees coven~

Drenched flesh of two hearts
to heart secrets under surface of smiles
Priceless treasures behind doors~

'Tis sad the soul that feels it is whimsy
Not open enough to allow the rain to fall
Heartbreaking the one who feasted upon the slightest taste~

No confidence to dare swim deeper and perhaps
dies awaiting for the train to show
yet the dusty road's expanse lies lonely~

A soul so sad to tell one swinging from vines
Dressed in pink flowers that those vines are
In one's imagination if clinging to the perfect chariot~

Or perhaps a new concoction brushes moist lips
Butterflied hearts floating on waves that cover
and pull under in frenzied rapture oh a symphony~

Not a heart alive can deny the beauty of these words
like trinkets of shimmering colors tinkling with chimes
Sad the one who has thought enough to dare deny another~

The grandeur of these longings and sweet tips upon
tongues that tango in a mellow mood
Still the passion of the ones who see these prisms~

Who refuse to look upon what may be
but rather grip tightly to these dreams
in rainbow Technicolor hues~

For this is love.

© Caroline - all rights reserved Sept 2014


As sleep evades
I wonder as if inside of a dream awake,
I avoid letting my mind escape
to the place that will hurt me~

That place between real and illusion
The place that feeds my every fear~

Those fears that are neatly wrapped
in yellowed paper and wrinkled bows,
Those doubts that choke me into submission
and pull me under like quick sand~

I sink deeper into the muck
if I dare open the worn out pages,~

The book has been read before
and over analyzed then ripped apart~

Bound up with empty words and utterances
Yet freed by things unknown and kept~
As a bride prepares for her groom
so my mind for hers~

Who is the groom there?
Will he escort her over the threshold
of her sanity and welcome new air~

He may simply turn and fade into the midnight
as she clings to shreds of hope,
A disquiet feeds her dilemma
as racing thoughts encumber~

Trepidation easily ensnares
and trips within nets of faintheartedness~

Clinging to vines of certainty
wound closely to her grieving heart~

An effete heart resides
and pumps dreams and visions
to the very soul~

Though it is supple
it is brave yet easily fragmented
Where shards can cut caring hands of protection
Uplift the poignant bleeding-heart
give reason to surrender~

© Caroline - all rights reserved


Twinkle little moon
I see a man in your stars.
Is he really that far?
Oh star so bright
won't you darken
up tonight?

Don't cast your beams
so readily upon my dreams.
Go behind the clouds
for awhile and go that extra mile
if you would blocking out
the sun that provides
cold days for me.
The sun a dim orb
that hardly shines
upon the climate.

Why can't you
find it within
to blaze a trail
of light for me?
Or do you prefer
to hide in a haven
with your cosmic friend

All rights reserved 2012

CAROLINE MORPFHEW is a mother and a grandmother that lives in Tulsa Oklahoma USA..She loves to write especially poetry and makes her living ghost writing.. She is a published author you can find her on and Amazon.


  1. hello GIRLFIEND.. your poetry is some of the best.. GO GIRL GO!!!

  2. Beautiful beautiful Poetry, Caroline. I don't know which one I loved more so I will say I loved all three equally so. You are very talented and I love your word choices and each poem had its own tone and mood, I like that. I look forward to reading more.