Snow

 

There is no threat

of snow

in these dark skies

yet I imagine

pure

white

perfect

icy flakes

melting

on your exquisite skin

and being captured

in the storm

of your hair.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this perhaps four years ago on a Winter’s day when the weather was mild. Today my world is white with snow and it seems apt to repeat it.

Photography believed to be by SoliArt and featured on FiveHundredpx. If I am wrong and this belongs to you I will credit or remove. A lovely image.

 

Out of the ordinary

 

There are those of us

perhaps like you

and certainly like me

who live our lives

wanting something

more

something dark

and decadent

something wild

and beautiful

something exotic

erotic

and mysterious

something out

of the ordinary.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not the first time I have published this –  but sometimes we need something out of the ordinary

Art by Ward George

 

Gardener

 

Sometimes she thinks he is a priest.

Or a professor, or a doctor, or a therapist.

Sometimes she thinks he is a teacher

or a shaman, or a philosopher, or a guide.

But sometimes she thinks he is a gardener

carefully sowing a decadent seed

a dark idea

a dangerous desire.

that takes root wickedly

and grows wildly

and constantly

inside her

 

until she can think

of nothing else.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written three years ago – but a gardener’s work is never done

Photograph by Liliroze Photography

 

Firesmoke

 

Sometimes you hear something which completely stops you in your tracks. I actually pulled over and stopped the car the first time I heard it.

This piece of music/poetry has haunted me for a few weeks. It is by Kate Tempest, one of the UK’s most breathtaking and genre breaking poets.

It is a gorgeously romantic and sensual piece.

It has touched me deeply.

I will say no more. I will simply leave you to listen.

(this has been another of my ‘songs I like but you might not know’ posts)

.

.

Poetry and music © Kate Tempest

This blog © the author writing as Romantic Dominant

My visionary is a vision
I watch her dancing by the window
And it rips my flesh to ribbons
And the whole world is just ripples
In the middle distance
I listen to her hips
I push my kisses to her lips
We move like we were born to move
The night is teeth and pistons
And there is something in this tenderness that makes me want to live
 
Firesmoke
 
Her mouth sets free this captive
Come close to me
Free me
Let me untangle the madness that knots you
I drop to my knees and crawl across you
I tell you I’ve got you
It’s firesmoke
 
So go on, give me three days of your body and mine
Time is a blind eye and I see your mind in my mind’s eye
You make me immortal
You take me to space
You are a planet
A place I’ve not known
Your body is home to rare gods
I kneel at their temple
I’m blown to bits, gentle, ferocious
We are open
Explosives have nothing compared to these sparks
So let’s fall apart
And then lie with me, breathing in the den of the dark
It’s firesmoke
Your mouth sets free this captive come close to me
Free me
Untangle the madness that knots me
You drop to your knees, you crawl across me
You lick your lips softly, it’s firesmoke
 
The fire rises between us
And makes us get on the wrong trains
Walk the wrong way
Make strangers smile greetings on Lewisham way
I bathe in this fire
It warms without burning
Compels without force
And it turns without turning the world
So please, you keep your purpose
Your poise and your journey
I’ll be by the fire
Thinking, nothing I’ve learned can prepare me
For everything else that needs learning
Is this how it feels to feel certain?
Coz for so many years my love’s been a burden
But now comes this fire to cleanse and restore us to fuel us and calm us and push us both forwards


Source: https://songtexte.co/en/kate-tempest-firesmoke-lyrics-e36b52

 

Liquid

 

You are a strange

and magical liquid

an enchanted elixir

an exquisite nectar

the more

I drink of you

the thirstier

I become.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Posted a year ago. One becomes thirsty.

Art by Klaus Kampert

 

Pictures at an Exhibition

Today I visited the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy.

There were over a thousand exhibits and installations. A long, lazy, late lunch was needed and enjoyed afterwards.

I love art, but I am no expert and certainly cannot claim to know any more than liking what I like. Nevertheless here are three of my favourites from the day.

This is by Eileen Cooper. I could have chosen any of hers on display there. I had not seen her work before today. She is now a new adored artist.

 

The colours in this painting by John Wragg are striking, as is the girl with her look of haughty, bored disdain.

 

 

As regular readers may know, I particularly enjoy figurative art – particularly portraying women. However, this by Suzanne Moxhay caught my attention with its wonderful other-worldliness.

 

It was a good day.

.

.

© this blog post © the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art © those artists named above

(apologies to Mussorgsky for the theft of the title for this post. I am sure he won’t mind)

 

 

 

Your Dante

Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Beata Beatrix, ca 1864-70.

Be my Lizzie

and I will be

your Dante

capturing your beauty

in words

instead of colours.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. The model is Elizabeth Siddal, a writer and painter in her own right.

 

Private Dancer

This is one of my favourite Jack Vettriano paintings

Partly because, from my perspective, the relationship between the man and the woman is not as obvious as it may first appear.

The scene is clearly a ‘gentleman’s club’.  A woman is beginning a dance for a man who is seated upon a red leather bench in front of her.  We cannot see the man’s face, but there is something in the shape his left hand is making that suggests his arousal, his need, his wanting to touch her.  Behind his head there is a mirror that shows the reflection of a middle-aged man and a presumably young woman.  They appear to me to be entering a room together, something beyond striptease.

The pose of the woman in the foreground with her back to us is provocative.  She is a typical Vettriano woman – sensual and sexy without being perfect.  There is a lovely tilt to her hip, and one can imagine the silk of her stockinged leg brushing against the man’s trousers as she moves.

She appears to represent the man’s plaything and yet I’m not sure I see it like that.  Many will disagree, but I see her as possessing power.  He has paid his money but somehow this dance is on her terms.  Perhaps it is the fact that she is standing and he is seated, possibly there is something in her stance that is predatory.  It could be that the monetary transaction has betrayed his weakness.  His desire has given her control.

Yet it is not the ambivalence I see in the painting that I most enjoy.

What I really I adore is how it reminds me of the pleasure of a truly private striptease – one by a woman for her lover – a submissive for her Master.

What she wears, designed to thrill

The way she moves so seductively and sensually.

How she carefully choreographs herself to the music.

The thrust of her hips.

The slight sway of her sweet breasts.

The proudly erect nipples.

The amazingly sexy wiggle of her marvellous arse.

The achingly submissive look in her eyes.

The toss of her hair.

The way she strokes herself.

Her parted thighs.

The rising excitement as each garment is removed.

The certainty of her gorgeous nakedness in my arms when the music stops

The deep pleasure we both get…

I feel myself stiffen as I write…

I would recommend it to lovers everywhere.

.

.

A version of this post was originally made in my blog Love Affair Diary under the title of A Recommendation to Dance.

Here are some suggested songs for disrobing

The painting is of course by Jack Vettriano

 

Many a submissive girl’s fantasy

A past lover adored this painting

‘The Assessors’, by Jack Vettriano.

To be naked and bound.  Perhaps blindfolded.  To be examined, admired and studied intently by strangers.  Smartly dressed men.

Perhaps touched and fondled.  If the Master allows it.

It is many a submissive girl’s fantasy.

.

.

Originally posted in my blog Love Affair Diary

 

Every man

He forgets how lovely she is.

Their lives only touch at the edges.  He has not seen her for days.  She only visited him in his imagination.  He could not fully recreate her perfection in his fantasies.

So when they meet inevitably yet unexpectedly, he is knocked sideways by the collision.   He is stunned by the lithe and elegant sensuality of her body.  His breath is stolen by her brown-eyed beauty.

He is blown away by her smile.

He cannot understand why every man does not ache for her.

As he does.

(The photograph is a great favourite of mine – ‘American Girl in Italy’, taken by Ruth Orkin in 1951.  I love the way she has captured the impact of the girl’s innocent beauty on her testosterone-rich admirers).