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Monthly Archives: August 2016

Dangerous Possibility

EmiliaWilk44

She knows

she should not let it

but it will

itch and ache

sigh and whisper

excite and arouse

until her mind is full

of dangerous possibility.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Emilia Wilk

 
5 Comments

Posted by on August 31, 2016 in D/s, Poetry

 

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From afar

Art by Marcos Beccari

You are a distant land

One I will never reach. Never touch. Never fully claim.

And yet I want to know your geography.

Every inch of your tempting, tender terrain.

I want to uncover your lovely, luscious landscape.

Study you from each perfect, precious, peerless, perspective

Map your marks, covet your curves, lust over your lines, ache for your angles.

I want to discover you,

I want to uncover you

and cover you

with words.

I want to be thrilled by my journey to the very heart of you

adoring you

wanting you

worshipping you

from afar.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art my Marcos Beccari

Not new, but no less relevant for that.

 
17 Comments

Posted by on August 29, 2016 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Never compromise

 

Art by Marcos Beccari

Your beauty

may be luminous

your intellect

formidable

your body

immaculate

your wit

wonderful

your sensuality

eloquent

your seduction

exquisite

your creativity

compelling

 

yet I will never

compromise

on my sexual control.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

 

 
8 Comments

Posted by on August 27, 2016 in D/s, Poetry

 

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To dream

Art by William Oxer

 

When midnight

wraps its arms around me

I will chant your name

softly

so no one else

can hear.

Only you

when laying down

your lovely head

to dream.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
11 Comments

Posted by on August 26, 2016 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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I will use you

Art by Marcos Beccari

I will use you

Every inch of you.

Your luscious skin, your gorgeous hair, your cheekbones, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The elegant line of your jaw, your throat, your neck. Your sensual curves, The stunningly sexy shape of your breasts. Your nipples (so easily aroused).

Your back, your belly, your arse, your legs, your ankles, your calves, your thighs. Your arms, your hands, your fingers, your feet, your oh-so-prettily painted toes.

The delicate, exquisite, perfect folds of your sex.

I will use you.

Your glorious curve of your smile. The joyful, soft peal of your laughter. The way you move, the way you eat, the way you talk. The way you say my name. The way you dance. Oh god, the way you dance.

I will use you.

Your thoughts, your hopes, your dreams, your imagination. How you analyse, how you consider, how you (sometimes over) react. The way you care. Your honesty, your loyalty, your charity, your generosity, your charm. Your temper, your obstinance, your tenacity, your strength. Your sometimes stubborn frown. Your warmth.

Your tears sliding hot and unchecked down your lovely face.

I will use you.

Your clothes, your shoes, your scent, your make up, your jewellery. The toys you keep at the back of a bedside drawer.

Your music, your books, your art, your films. The (often rubbish) things you watch on TV. Your work, your hobbies, your interests, your exercise. How you spend your days. Your food, your drink, your wine.

The things that excite you, arouse you, frighten you, sadden you, disturb you. The things that make you want to be hugged.

I will use you.

Every amazing, challenging, wonderful, infuriating, incredible, shy, breathtaking part of you.

Everything that makes you unique, rare and special.

I will use you.

And I will write you.

My heroine, my fantasy, my main protagonist, my key character.

The star of the show.

The woman at the very heart of it.

And you alone, all by yourself, will make it magnificent.

You will turn my untidy jumble of words

into a masterpiece.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

 
16 Comments

Posted by on August 25, 2016 in Still Life

 

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Safe

Art by Francine van Hove

When the world

is torn by conflict

starved by greed

betrayed by belief

brutal with hate

it is enough to know

that you,

my angel,

are safe.

.

.

© the author waiting as Romantic Dominant

Art by Francine van Hove

 
11 Comments

Posted by on August 24, 2016 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

Art by Fabian Perez

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off La Rambla. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the close and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

 

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union that night.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I first wrote and posted this two years ago. It recalls a true event that happened in my past. This song always reminds me of that night. I hope you enjoy it again. And this early recording of the song itself.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on August 23, 2016 in Lovers Past, Music, Still Life

 

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