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Tag Archives: Gianni Strino

Not poetry

I have reluctantly realized

thinking of you

and writing your name

in midnight blue ink

on parchment paper

over and over

and over and over

while I whisper

each syllable

does not count

as poetry

though it feels like it

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, and still not poetry

Art by Gianni Strino

 
16 Comments

Posted by on May 6, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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

Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.

Art by Gianni Strino

 
6 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Not poetry

 

I have reluctantly realized

thinking of you

and writing your name

in midnight blue ink

on parchment paper

over and over

and over and over

while I whisper

each syllable

does not count

as poetry

though it feels like it

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, and still not poetry

Art by Gianni Strino

 
15 Comments

Posted by on May 3, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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

Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.

Art by Gianni Strino

 
5 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Not poetry

 

I have reluctantly realized

thinking of you

and writing your name

in midnight blue ink

on parchment paper

over and over

and over and over

while I whisper

each syllable

does not count

as poetry

though it feels like it

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, and still not poetry

Art by Gianni Strino

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on May 3, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

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

Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.

Art by Gianni Strino

 
6 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Destination

 

She does not know

if he is leading her astray

or guiding her home

and which she wants most

and if they are the same.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Gianni Strino

 
3 Comments

Posted by on August 29, 2018 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Not poetry

 

I have reluctantly realized

thinking of you

and writing your name

in midnight blue ink

on parchment paper

over and over

and over and over

while I whisper

each syllable

does not count

as poetry

though it feels like it

to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Gianni Strino

 

 

 
12 Comments

Posted by on May 2, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

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

Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.

Art by Gianni Strino

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Familiar

 

This wild and wicked

dangerous and divine

delicious desire

is new to her.

 

It has set her mind racing

in such deep, dark

decadent directions,

to such seductive

sensual, sexual

shameful, sinful places

that her skin is flushed

her mouth is dry

her thighs are wet,

and exquisite shivers

run up and down

her spine.

 

This wild and wicked

dangerous and divine

delicious desire

is new to her.

and yet it seems

as familiar

as her reflection.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Gianni Strino

 
4 Comments

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

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,