A pale, fading
April evening
folding in
playing old vinyl
burning patchouli
writing dark poetry
needing your beauty
wanting your body
and feeling like
seventeen
all over again.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Not new, but true.
Art by William Oxer
I am not a holy man.
But I will touch your brow
as you kneel before me.
I will whisper a prayer
to your beauty
and your body.
I am not a holy man.
But I will hear your confession
in the sacred darkness.
I will sing a hymn
to your sweet heart
and submissive soul.
I am not a holy man.
But I will place my hands upon you
and anoint you with oil.
I will bless the moment
of your conversion
that carried you
here to me.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Steve Hanks
This piece is perhaps five years old – I am still not a holy man
She feels sacred
she feels profane
she will give herself up
holy and heathen
pure and dirty
to his gently romantic
darkly erotic
sexual religion.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by William Oxer
Attraction is a mystery
What is it that captures, captivates and compels?
What is it that draws us, like iron to magnet, bee to honey, moth to light? What is it that makes us warm to another, need to make contact, need to be in their presence, or simply make us catch our breath when they come close?
Is it in their eyes, or their mouth? Is it the arc of their smile? Is it in their height, their weight, their curves and lines? Is it in the colour of their skin or their hair? Is it in their laughter, or their voice, or their words, or the intelligent mind within?
Is it in their honesty, their truth, their empathy, their kindness, their compassion, their hope?
Is it in their movement, their balance, the way their body moves when they walk? Is it in the clothes they wear?
Is it in what they do, what they like, what they believe?
Is it in their beauty, and the beauty they see around them?
Is it in how good they make us feel?
Is it something we instantly see deep in their soul, something we recognise and know? Something that touches our own?
Is it that we sense they will complete us?
Attraction is a mystery.
Even after all these years I cannot explain it.
But I do know
I am deeply attracted to you
by all of the above.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Written a few years ago. I still don’t know the answer, and probably never will. But I do know what attracts me …
Art by Hamish Blakely
How many
countless combinations
of skin and hair
muscle and bone
sinew and nerve
blood and eyes
breasts and lips
were tried
before the sheer perfection
of you?
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by William Oxer
You are you.
With your sweet heart
your clever mind
your warm smile
your rare beauty
your divine body
your submissive soul
you are more
than enough.
You are you.
You are mine.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Not a brand new post, but sometimes valid.
Art by Antonio Sgarbossa
Sometimes
my poetry
is just poetry.
It is not
a song
from my soul.
It is not
a yearning
cry for help.
It is not
the burning
of desire.
It is not
a statement
of intent.
It is not
secretly
about you.
It is not
how I feel
right now.
Sometimes
my poetry
is just poetry.
A jumble
of words
I strung
untidily
together.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Written a year ago. Still true. Except for the many times when it is not just poetry.
Art by Victor Bauer
