Real

I am not a shadow

nor an invention

nor a character created

for a virtual life

to inhabit scenarios

of make-believe

role play

and pretend.

.

I am not a projection

a fantasy

a construction

of someone

I would like to be.

.

I am not just

an avatar

I am corporeal

of flesh and blood

a heart that pumps

a mind that thinks.

A hunger

that burns.

.

And if I should play

a game

in any way

in any context

it is always

for real.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

I wrote this a while ago. We are all real, behind the avatars.

Art by Jack Vettriano

 

Magical

She is more magical

than a sticky-winged butterfly

unfolding from its hard shell,

the vivid arc of a bright rainbow

after the storm,

the muscular power of a thoroughbred

thundering across a field,

a full silver moon sailing

across a velvet night sky,

a virgin fall of powdery snow

awaiting my skis,

the scent of freshly cut grass

at the end of a summer’s day,

a glass of brunello di montalcino

sipped by the fire,

the staccato gunfire of high heels

crossing a marble floor,

a newly emerged desert flower

ephemeral in the sand.

.

She is more magical

than fervent wishes

unexpectedly coming true.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

This is not new, but I am posting again because I like it.

Art by Gianni Strino

 

A bar somewhere

I imagine us

in a bar

somewhere

your hair

coming loose

dress

like a sheath

calves

like geometry

thighs

like fantasy

eyes shining

lips parted

raising your glass

sighing

‘yes’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Fabian Perez

 

Whirlwind

Even the softest

sweetest

tenderest kiss

launched

from your fingers

with the faintest

gentlest breath

endless miles away

is a caress

upon my skin

and a whirlwind

in my soul.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by C.S. McNeil

 

Picture on her profile

Her picture on her profile.

It began with that.

His long finger was arrested in its lazy, languid, bored downwards scroll by her image.

A slight intake of breath. An appreciative lift of the eyebrows. A smile. An impossible sense of recognition.

He did not know her, but she seemed familiar.

He studied her face. The eyes, the mouth, the nose, the cheekbones.

He stroked the stubble on his chin, and leaned forward slightly in his chair.

With his eyes closed he imagined her.  And he could picture her completely in his head.

He guided the cursor and clicked the ‘follow’ button.

Her picture on her profile.

It began with that.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not new, but I like it

Art by William Oxer

 

February Afternoon

A grey afternoon towards the end of February.

A gentle silence in the countryside. Disturbed only by the occasional bleating of lambs in the field opposite. Or the distant grumble of a tractor. Or the sound of a horse’s hooves clip-clopping in the lane, past the cottage.

I am alone in this room of ancient wooden beams and leaded windows.

My fingers are wandering on the keyboard. I am not the fastest typist, especially for a writer, but it is the right speed for the words that enter my head.

This novel has a mind of its own.

The day is marooned. Stranded at four o’clock, drifting slowly from lunch to suppertime.

My thoughts stray dangerously to you.

I try to hold them back but they strain toward you, like muscular hounds, catching your scent from so many miles away.

The temptation is too great. I let them loose.

And you fill my fading afternoon with light and colour, scent and heat.

I sigh. Content.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Anna Miklashevich

 

Me – the ‘small print’

I wrote this five years ago. Since then I have gained new followers, and some may have missed it. I would hate readers to be under any illusions about the man and writer behind Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic.

.

Some followers on WordPress and Twitter are surprised and disappointed when I express political or general opinions, outside of what they ‘expect’ from me. A number unfollowed me today after my recent tweet mocking the ludicrous idea that more guns make for a safer society.

Rather than you all unfollow me in an untidy fashion as you realise that I am not quite what you expected, I have decided to post this ‘small print’ about me, so all those who wish to take offence at my beliefs can disappear at once. I am certain there is something in here to upset most people but I do feel obliged to come clean about the man behind the writer.

I am white, male, English and middle-aged.
I am a socialist.
I am an atheist.
I am not poor (or particularly rich) by UK standards, and certainly not poor by world standards.
I would rather live in a poor, caring, fair society than a rich, uncaring, unfair one.
I believe all lives, whoever, wherever, are equal.
I believe all human beings have a right to food, water, and shelter
I believe we are all responsible for the safety and well-being of the children of the world.
I abhor discrimination by race, country of origin, sex (in the widest possible sense), age, religion (even though I am an atheist) and I abhor discrimination due to (lack of) wealth or education.
I abhor misogyny and the oppression and abuse of women in all societies
I abhor discrimination against those who face mental or physical challenges, or who are simply not like the ‘norm’.
I believe it is totally unacceptable that 1% of the world’s population own 50% of the world’s wealth, and that the gap between rich and poor globally is widening.
I think capitalism without morality has failed the majority
I hate the cult of money, and also the cult of celebrity.
I despise fervent nationalism or tribalism because it seldom leads to good outcomes. Flags should be reserved for sporting events.

There is probably more, but I am as bored with writing this as you probably are with reading it. Those who have decided to leave have probably left. There is more about me here and here if you can be bothered.

Please exit quietly. Hopefully some will remain.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Fabian Perez

 

Paris

Winter in England

afternoon giving way

to evening

filling the windows

of this ancient room

with darkness.

.

Yet for this moment

I am not here.

.

I am playing scratchy

smoky

sensual

haunting

French jazz

on my turntable.

.

I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.

.

I can almost hear

Pigalle

bursting with life

outside my window.

.

I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both

transported

to a Paris summer.

.

I am sprawled

loose-limbed and easy

in an old leather chair

drinking wine.

.

And you are dancing

and shedding clothes

and blowing me kisses

while I

smiling

enchanted

enraptured

adoring

applaud.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not new  – but a favourite

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

Some days I wake

Some days

I wake

as serene

as a boat

floating

on a quiet lake.

.

Some days

I wake

unpredictable

as thin ice

not

to be skated upon.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not new, but true

Art by Paul Bond

 

Curious

The more

she knows

about him

the more

she reads

about him

the more

she learns

about him

the more

curious

she becomes.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Not new – but I like it

Art by William Oxer