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Category Archives: Erotica

Let her hands

 

She has let her hands

wander all over

her body

as if they belonged

to a lover

to a writer

to a teacher

to a priest

to an angel

to the devil

to her Master.

As if they belonged

to a stranger.

As if they belonged

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new. But always new.

Art by Patrice Murciano

 
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Posted by on July 15, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Carpe Diem

 

Marius Markowski _paintings_artodyssey (16)

 

These brave and uncharted days

hold a perfect promise

of such delicious decadent discovery,

of such sheer sensual satisfaction,

of such thrilling fulfilment of fantasy,

of such wild abandon,

of such unburdened joy.

 

Let us surrender

to their sensual rhythm.

Let us give ourselves up

to the magic of their moments

Let us yield

to the endless ache within.

 

For you and I

my beautiful friend

will never, ever

pass this way again.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

First posted two years ago – but there is always a day to be seized

Art by Marius Markowski

 

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Possibility

 

I do not just see

your body.

 

I see art

music

and poetry.

 

I see endless

sensual

erotic

possibility.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Omar Ortiz

 

 
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Posted by on July 9, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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If by poetry

Art by Cesar Santos

 

If by poetry

 

If

by poetry

I can make her

flesh and blood

my body on which to press

I will forge

such compelling words

her hungry soul

to steal

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Cesar Santos

I originally tweeted these words over four years past, but liked them so much I elevated them to a blog post three years ago. If elevate is the right word. I hope you don’t mind them again. It is one of my favourite short poems.

 

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2018 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Her body

 

Her Body

.

Her body is my playground

A wonderland of curves and lines.

Of sweet breasts and urgent nipples.

Of rolling hips and elegant thighs.

.

Her body is my canvas

A perfect page on which to paint my words,

to daub my prose,

to  scratch my spidery, inky, dangerous poetry.

.

Her body is my church

A hallowed and sacred place

A holy ground on which to worship

And adore.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written four years ago, and repeated a few times.  But you might have missed it.

Art by Omar Ortiz

 
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Posted by on July 5, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Seed

 

Seed

You can try

every cure, every potion, every remedy,

you can erase it with drugs, with sex, with religion

you can cauterise it, crush it, cut it, crucify it,

you can freeze it, forgive it, forget it, fuck it,

you can deny it, defy it, deride it, destroy it,

you can burn it, break it, belittle it, betray it, bury it,

you can hate it, harm it, hurt it, harangue it,

you can trick it, tear it, trap it, trash it,

you can eject it, evade it, evict it, eat it,

you can poison it, persecute it, prick it, prune it,

you can shame it, shatter it, smash it, suck it

you can ruin it, regret it, reduce it, rape it,

you can inject it, intimidate it, isolate it,

you can leave it, lash it, lose it.

You can try

every spell, every enchantment, every charm

you can call in an exorcist,

you can send up prayers

you can summon the devil

you can invoke an ancient curse

you can wear it away, wish it away, wash it away, want it away

you can pretend it never was, never is, never will be

you can try anything and everything

but you will never

ever

be free

of the seed

I planted

in your soul.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Kelly Reemtsen

Written two years ago – but already one of my favourites – and this seed is dangerous whenever it is planted

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Chant

Realistic-Portraits-by-Christina-Papagianni-21

 

Chant

I will chant your name

The chords beneath my fingers
no longer break the silence
with words I cannot find.
Only hunger resonates.

I will chant your name,

I will chant your name
in this night of endless yearning,
drowning in the echoes
yet thirsty beyond belief.

I will chant your name

Your eyes have held me captive
Starved me without thinking,
crucified my days.
Yet our suffering is the same.

I will chant your name

I will chant your name
A hymn to aching distance
Until all latitude means nothing
Only lines to score desire.

I will chant your name.

Your body will dance before me
a vision of solemn beauty
numbing me with need.
A longing beyond your golden skin.

I will chant your name

I will chant your name

I will chant your name …

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Christina Papagianni

If you have read my untidy word juggling, you will know this. Some of you will know it well. But I like it. So here it is once more in case you have never read or heard it.

 
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Posted by on June 30, 2018 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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