Love does not speak tonight
It pants
In warm whispers in your ear
With fingers trailing silken skin
Tracing soft and subtle curves
It pants
In hot and hurried breath
It licks
It bites
Salt and wet
'Til torrid passion
Is finally met
Love does not speak tonight
But sighs gently in your ear

Sleep, sleep,
still your breath
and just sleep.
Sleep through
the drum-circle,
the neighbour's garden,
sleep through
the fever,
the sentence,
and the eventual pardon.

Sleep, sleep,
blot your eyes
and just sleep.
Sleep through
her hands touching,
the solemn submit;
sleep through
the wastelands,
the war-zones,
and sleep with the deficit.

Sleep, sleep,
in the castle keep, sleep.
Sleep for the potions,
the poisons,
the crimes you commit.
Too steep is the gangway
to an easier life,
too far is the leap
and too impossible, the wife.

Sleep, sleep,
still your mind
and just sleep.
Keep to
the sidelines,
with intellect deep;
fall to sleep
in the limelight
of your  day,

for you have
earned your rest,
you have found your way.

Stop.

Your over the top brand of loving
has me breathing too quickly, and I cannot

Stop.

I look up at the full moon shining,
as your mouth
quivers down my neck,
and I don't want to

Stop.

My limbs are quaking and the
moon is glorious and tomorrow,
there will be dishes and children
and you really need to

Stop.

I think to send you home,
our bodies heaving,
My mouth forming 'oh's
and you really need to

Stop.

Just stop, park that car,
look up at that moon,
so still, so far,
so here, so near,

Just stop.*

And 'Oh'

Can we just 'Oh?'

For a while?

She wrung the morning
From her paint soaked dress,
And watched sunlight
Dance across her fields.

You came to me with little baggage,
you placed your hand in mine
and your lips on my forehead;
soft, not heavy. Fragile.

The only baggage was that of your past,
and your eyes screamed with experience.
I could never find the ghosts that haunted you.
I spent months trying to read your story;
found that you were a novel of suspense and mystery.
You spoke very little but your breath smelled of alcohol,
and that's when I knew there was something unknown.
I tried to find what burdened you, tried to sink beneath your skin,
but like floorboards you creaked and were full of tight nails;
I tried, but too much force could break you apart,
I never wanted to hurt you.

I could never crack the case of you,
your windows were too fogged to see through,
and then I thought that maybe you'd left them like that purposely;
who am I to knock down your walls?
Who am I to peak into your corners?

I never did find what burdened you,
and I feared of becoming a part of whatever that was;
in some ways I hope you left with less baggage than you came with,
but sometimes I hope the scrape on the window reminds you
that someone once tried.

If you don't want me around,
please, lock your door.

(NJ2014) ©All Rights Reserved.

I want to smile like the sunrise

sleep in the heavens like the high moon

be cradled aligned with the stars

and rise like a proud head of a woman

that turn the neck

of a stubborn man


I want to be the apple

shinning beside my consort

run for miles to the closest rainbow

reach out to the struggles of nature

and embrace the rain

where I am baptized in holy evaporation


I want to heal

a broken childs heart

after and abuse

after an attack

and make them feel found

and whole again


I want to run with the wild

and fly

with Roman and Greek mythology

where fantasys crown me queen

and they are my dream

cause it never dies

whatever is young in my mind


when crumbled

I want to succeed

when fallen

I want to stand back up

and look at the world

and hold on to it tightly

because it is all I got

to survive.


And the world smells good.

© S.T. Rebel of Eden

she wrings the morning
from her paint soaked dress, dreaming
dragonflies hover
becoming sunlight dancing
vast, her fields of flowers bloom

Oh fickle poet!
Your slippery heart is in your hand
Bind your mouth,
Persevere.

you, who are of my heart, you, who
still the breaking waves upon my shore

i am but a scratchy grain of sand,
yet i knit the pearl of your longing

crack the oyster shell you cling to
and know your beauty

see that your heart's desire
has been within you all along

The street-side artist drew your body with
charcoal and claimed the best form of life came
after the forest fire, over a more
fertile land, when the ash-cloud will come to
unsettle your vision from what is laid out
before you. He shaded your ******* in with
his thumb over the blackened lines of hope
that you would come to envisage yourself
in the way each passer-by came to do.
Once you paid up and walked the promenade,
you came to the lighthouse in the distance
as a ship turned to change its course for you.