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Tag Archives: beauty

Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

 

As I was deciding what to post today I came upon this I wrote three years ago. I think it has had a couple of outings since. It is a favourite. It recalls a true event that happened in my past in Las Ramblas in Barcelona, a city I love and where I spent much time. Just before posting it the news came through of more awful, tragic events there. I decided to post it anyway because it feels right not to grant those who want to destroy joy and pleasure their wish.

 

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off Las Ramblas. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the close and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

.

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union that night.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Paul Cheng

This song always reminds me of that night. I hope you enjoy it again – despite today’s horror. And also this early recording of the song itself.

 

 
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Posted by on August 17, 2017 in Lovers Past, Music, Still Life

 

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Realization

Art by Michael Liepke

Suddenly

she realises

her pulse racing

her heart pounding

her mouth dry

her thoughts tumbling

over themselves

dangerously

that she

is the one he wants

that she

is his fantasy.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Michael Liepke

Written a year ago. Yet sometimes relevant.

 

 
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Posted by on August 16, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Butterfly Net

Pieter Wagemans

Butterfly Net

.

She reads him avidly

hungrily

looking for patterns

for answers

for hints

for clues

for oxygen to fuel

the breathless possibility

that she might be ‘she’

.

Meanwhile

he chases her soul

with a butterfly net

spun from the best

of his words

to capture her

completely.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Pieter Wagemans

This is not new – posted two years ago at least. But I still have the butterfly net somewhere.

 
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Posted by on August 14, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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In dreams

 

I will not be held

responsible

or accountable

or answerable

or culpable.

Nor will I

apologize

or feel guilty

or accept liability

or be judged

or even damned

for all the

dark

delicious

decadent

dirty things

I do to you

in my dreams.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks

 
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Posted by on August 13, 2017 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Your touch

Art by Marcos Beccari

 

From a distance

across oceans

borders

mountains

cities

I will lay

your hands

upon you.

 

In your touch

I will be a lover

a poet

your Master

a stranger

the devil

a holy man.

 

I will be the name

in your mouth

the cry

on your lips.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

(Written a year ago)

 

 
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Posted by on August 12, 2017 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Dream of paradise

 

Tonight

when I dream

of paradise

there will be pirates

and thieves

full sails

and deep seas

tall ships

and mutiny

adventure

and destiny.

 

Tonight

when I dream

of paradise

you will be

the treasure

I am buried in.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art (I believe) by Vincent Tanguay (Saint-Genesis). Please let me know if I am mistaken.

 

 
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Posted by on August 10, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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The girl in the photograph

Felicity Jones by Mark Abrahams

 

The girl in the photograph

The girl in the photograph
is swagger and poise
shyness and hope
uncertainty and strength

The girl in the photograph
is desire and fear
softness and style
fantasy and real

The girl in the photograph
is hunger and joy
knowledge and warmth
rebellion and love

The girl in the photograph
is danger and sex
promise and dreams
intelligence and wild

The girl in the photograph
is not mine
but I wish
she was

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

The photograph here is the stunning English actress Felicity Jones (a long-term crush), and was taken by Mark Abrahams for © GQ Magazine in 2014. Since I posted this a while back she has found much deserved fame in the Star Wars franchise. The poem is not about her.

This is not one of my new ones – I think I first posted it three years ago, but I hope you enjoy. Sometimes I see a girl in a photograph…..

 
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Posted by on August 9, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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