You make them special


I imagine you reading

the dull

and tedious lines

I have written.

Your perfect mouth

forming the words

making them special

beautiful and pure

as they touch you.



I wrote this a year ago but hopefully there is someone’s perfect mouth reading these words


© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez


Posted by on March 16, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life


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A dream of you


A dream of you.

Your legs long on impossible heels. The roll and glide and shimmy as you walk.  And turn.  And dance,

A panther poised.

A gorgeous glide.  A sleek and sensual slide.

Your hair like a storm. Your body clutched tight in a sheath of a dress.

Peeled off slow.

Your arms raised.

Waiting for your wrists to be tied.

Your mouth, your lips, your teeth, your tongue, your breath like a warm breeze.

Calling me to rise.

Your perfect peach of a posterior pressed into my belly, into my thighs, into my hungry. bold tumescence.

A dream of you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written three years ago. And now I dream of you.

Art by Fabian Perez


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


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More than enough


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

Art by Antonio Sgarbossa


Posted by on March 14, 2018 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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Thursday’s Child


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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Gorgeous Girl


You are everything

that arouses me

excites me

inspires me

delights me,

multiplied infinitely

increased endlessly

all rolled up perfectly

into one

gorgeous girl.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Amy Lind


Posted by on March 12, 2018 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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Journey begins



To be her first.

To be regarded enough for her to bend.  To be respected enough for her to yield. To be admired enough for her to kneel.

To be the one made holy by her gift, never before given.

It is an honour for him.

It is a wild, heady, nervous, exciting and achingly erotic moment for her.

Their journey begins.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this almost exactly five years ago. So perhaps I can be forgiven for hoping you won’t mind reading again. And we all love new journeys….

Photo ©  Nahuaconetl


Posted by on March 11, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life


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Command Performance



He wants

to make her body sing

to train her

to direct her

to conduct her

to control her.


He wants

to make her body sing

to be his chanteuse

to be his nightingale

to be his diva

to be his leading lady soprano

pouring out her soul


He wants

to make her body sing

and sigh

and dance

and glide

and twist

and writhe

and shiver

and sway

and fill his stage

with her perfect submission

a command performance

only for him.



This post is a year old – but a command performance is always special.


© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Laszio Gulyas


Posted by on March 10, 2018 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life


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