Thursday’s Child

13 Mar


Thursday’s Child


Well, I hear that you have been travelling

with a friend in an open-topped car,

and you revealed to him all your secrets

and you showed him your operation scar.

You painted his name on your mirror

with a lipstick glossy and red,

and you posed for imaginary photos

in the warm nest of your unmade bed..


He sent you a handful of spidery poems

that you captured with pins on your wall,

I read them when you were sleeping

and they seemed to make no sense at all.

Yet you recite them when you are bathing,

trailing your sharp nails over your thighs,

and you emerge mysterious and glowing

with a wild, vacant look in your eyes.


There is more to this than just attraction

or some strange late night trick of the light,

and you shouldn’t be reading his memoirs

in a dress that is so transparent and white.

And I fear that you’ve sensed a religion

in the casual, brave cut of his coat,

as you kneel so sublime at his alter

clasping tight all the letters he wrote.


Now I hear you’ve constructed a bonfire

from the things your sweet mother knew best,

and that you comfort his wide-eyed supporters

who sleep with their hands on your breasts.

But you never once give them the shelter

they crave when the light has grown dim,

and while you suffer the press of their bodies

you save all your mystery for him.


I miss you when the round moon is sailing,

I feel your caress in the turn of the tide.

it is as constant as the ache in my shoulders,

It is the sharp stabbing pain of your knife.

And oh, how I hunger for you to be near me,

your peeled clothes like a sea at your feet,

your pale skin tasting of salt and seaweed.

I’m a slave to your scent and your heat.


But if I plead with him to release you,

with just a snap of his finger and thumb

will you forget his smooth benediction,

or the velvet magic of his silver tongue?



I apologise to regular readers who have read this often – but it has been a year since the last posting. This is one of favourite my ‘performance’ poems. In fact it might even be one of the poems I am most proud of having written. And it was written many years ago. It started out as a song but I struggled to develop a chorus.  As I said, I have posted it a number of times before when this blog was even less popular than it is now.  It tells a story that was inspired by (my) real life events.  Because it is penned in the first person, the reader/listener tends to think that the narrator is writing about himself. Actually I was the writer of the ‘handful of spidery poems’.  

Do listen to the audio – it was a poem that is meant to be read aloud.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photography by Ines Rehberg.   Model is Megan Szczypka. I chose this photo because she is not unlike the female subject of the poem



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19 responses to “Thursday’s Child

  1. Nandita

    March 13, 2018 at 4:48 pm

    This is your finest, in my humble opinion. And I love it so damn much. My favorite of yours!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Romina

    March 13, 2018 at 4:59 pm

    I adore the writing, but listening to it is something truly special. I love it.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. House of Heart

    March 13, 2018 at 5:19 pm

    Once again it is confirmed, the British accent is the most captivating. This poem is perfection.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Romantic Dominant

      March 13, 2018 at 5:41 pm

      Smiles. You are more than generous Ms. H. And I hope the accent captivated, though in truth it is just how I speak

      Liked by 1 person

  4. House of Heart

    March 13, 2018 at 5:44 pm

    On my side of the pond we call it an accent….you know what I mean Mr. D.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. gracefulphrase

    March 13, 2018 at 8:59 pm

    I can’t fathom how I’ve not seen this before. It’s breathtaking.
    I look forward to hearing it too.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. veveheart

    March 13, 2018 at 10:12 pm

    Bravo! You have every reason to be very proud of this one.

    Sent from my amazing IPhone


    Liked by 1 person


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