Monthly Archives: September 2013

New leaf


It ends now.

A strange month.

Hope as pure as the fresh-from-womb-shining infant that fills the air with the smell of milk and birth.

Disappointment as bleak as winter, cloaked in sorrow, burdened with impossible, thwarted expectations.

Yearning as keen as a knife-edge, a desperate, relentless, sharp blade cutting far deeper than flesh.

Admiration for something, someone, whose beauty, poise and innocence has struck me dumb.

In these changing trees I see a thousand colors.

And a new leaf.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from theAgonoize


Posted by on September 30, 2013 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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Barely Know


There is you.

How do I explain you?

How do I characterize you, communicate you, describe  you, interpret you. How do I convey you, define you, depict you, give a sense of you?

How can I explain what it is about you that excites me and thrills me. That makes me hunger for you. That takes my breath away. That makes me want to write poetry with you in every single line?

How can I paint a picture of what captivates and enthralls me. Enraptures and arouses me. Makes me smile stupidly. Like a schoolboy. Like a fool?

How do I put into words how you make me feel beyond powerful, beyond strong?

Your protector, your guardian angel. Your Master?

How do I write this down clearly now?

When I barely know the answers myself.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from Lord-Kevinz

Reading by Romantic Dominant

(apologies for the Soundcloud generated ad)


Posted by on September 29, 2013 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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Walks this earth


There is a woman.

She walks this earth.

I have not met her, although I once came close. I have barely seen her, though glimpses have thrilled me. I have never spoken to her, although I swear I can hear her sweet accent in my head. And in my dreams.

I do not know her perfume but her scent thrills me. I have not touched her but can almost feel her skin beneath my finger tips. I have not looked into her eyes, but feel light-headed at the thought.

I have not owned her, but the hunger to do so consumes me.

There is a woman.

She walks this earth.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from AntekPyra


Posted by on September 27, 2013 in D/s, Erotica, Still Life


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Not Falter


Not Falter


He can sense her in every footstep.

Every cracked, grey paving slab,

Every rust-red, crumbling brick,

Every light-filled, laughing window,

Every mocking, welcoming sign.


He will not bend.

He will not falter.


He can see her in every stranger.

Every passing, dark hunched shadow,

Every bare-legged, smiling girl.

Every wide-eyed, staring child.

Every joyful, oblivious lover.


He will not bend.

He will not falter.


He can feel her in every heartbeat.

Every rapid, strained, urgent breath

Every drum-tight, bursting sinew

Every white-knuckle, clenching fist

Every streaming hot angry tear.


He must not bend.

He must not falter.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo by Roxess

I wrote this in a a spare hour a week or so ago at the request of someone pulling together an anthology under the overall title of ‘Struggle’. It is a rough and ready poem, but it captures a moment in my life.


Posted by on September 23, 2013 in Poetry, Still Life


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Stepping outside


I seldom step outside of Romantic Dominant.

He is me, but then he is not. He is part of me, but I am not part of him.

The last post was my 300th in the Notebook. There were a couple of hundred more in Love Affair Diary. And there were still more in the blogs before that. I have known a few of you for all that time. There are some of you who know me well. A rare few I have been fortunate enough to meet. And I have learned much about one or two of you. Sometimes beyond words. I am grateful for what was shared.

It is not over by any means. There is surely a finale. To steal and modify from Leonard Cohen – Like any Dominant he is watching for the card that is so high and wild he’ll never need to deal another.
I hope it is someone heavenly as sin.

So far it has been a glorious experience. To be read by friends and strangers is far more than my story, or at least the fragments of my story, deserve.

So I’m stepping outside of Romantic Dominant for just a moment.

To say – and I am sorry it is such a cliché – thank you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

PS Some readers have taken this post as a farewell. It is not by any means. It is just a thank you.


Posted by on September 12, 2013 in Still Life


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Where lovers meet

The Meeting Place at St. Pancras station

He doesn’t like to think that far ahead.

The dark nights of November falling like a cloak about his shoulders. The chill air hardening the skin of his face. Orphan snowflakes ghosting the afternoon.

He pictures her, wide-eyed in a foreign land. A mixture of innocence and swagger, confidence and vulnerability. Black, shoulder-length hair, sculptured cheekbones, exquisite lips, perfect chin. A slender waif.

Decadently, dangerously, deliciously young. Yet wiser and braver than many twice her age.

He doesn’t allow himself to conjure up the moment of breathless recognition. The coming together. The folding of her into his arms.

At St. Pancras station.

Where lovers meet.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph : The Meeting Place, a 30 ft. bronze sculpture at St. Pancras railway station, London. I couldn’t find the source – apologies



Posted by on September 10, 2013 in D/s


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Something about her

Painting by Thomas Saliot

I have (although I have no religion) been blessed.

I have enjoyed so much of beauty.

I have flattered, seduced, stolen, attracted, enchanted and compelled her. I have adored, admired, worshipped and respected her. I have yearned for, longed for, ached for, wished for, hungered for her.

I have dominated, owned, controlled, instructed, disciplined her. I have used and abused her. I have kissed, caressed, tied and whipped, licked, stroked, teased and thrilled her. I have made her body electric with pleasure.

I have felt beauty moan and sigh beneath my hands.

I have held her in my arms and soothed her fears. I have fallen for her.

Very rarely, I have loved her….

Yet of late I thought I had grown weary of beauty

I thought I had grown tired, cynical, jaded,

I thought my lifetime infatuation with her was over.

But there is something about this beauty that has captured my attention.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Thomas Saliot


Posted by on September 9, 2013 in D/s


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