Tag Archives: Hamish Blakely



I have been high

on the bottle,

the rich taste of red wine in my mouth

blackberry, cinnamon, tobacco, leather,

Another glass, and another.

And perhaps another.

Until all I know is crimson liquid.

Then brandy or port or absinthe.

Or all three.

Pour me out of a taxi and take me home.


I have been high

on acid.

Pills, blotting paper, microdots with happy, hippy names.

Colours bleeding into surfaces into shapes into light.

Music holy with new tones and textures to touch.

The revelations, the meanings, the weird,

finding a new religion in a carpet.

The warm fade and glow

of coming down.


I have been high

on adventure,

on exploration, on discovery, the wild, the different, the strange.

On art, on words, on music, on performance, on poetry.

On the strings of my guitar.

On winning, on deals, on negotiation.

On a high-five finish

On landscapes, seascapes, lucky escapes.

On the lights on the harbour twinkling like diamonds

On snow, on ice, on powder.

On that feeling, at the end of the page

when everything

is perfect.


I have had

a lifetime of highs

but nothing

absolutely nothing

not a single thing

comes close

to you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not the first time I have posted this. Sometimes one finds a new high.

Art by Hamish Blakely


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


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Attraction is a mystery


Attraction is a mystery

What is it that captures, captivates and compels?

What is it that draws us, like iron to magnet, bee to honey, moth to light? What is it that makes us warm to another, need to make contact, need to be in their presence, or simply make us catch our breath when they come close?

Is it in their eyes, or their mouth? Is it the arc of their smile? Is it in their height, their weight, their curves and lines? Is it in the colour of their skin or their hair? Is it in their laughter, or their voice, or their words, or the intelligent mind within?

Is it in their honesty, their truth, their empathy, their kindness, their compassion, their hope?

Is it in their movement, their balance, the way their body moves when they walk? Is it in the clothes they wear?

Is it in what they do, what they like, what they believe?

Is it in their beauty, and the beauty they see around them?

Is it in how good they make us feel?

Is it something we instantly see deep in their soul, something we recognise and know? Something that touches our own?

Is it that we sense they will complete us?


Attraction is a mystery.

Even after all these years I cannot explain it.

But I do know

I am deeply attracted to you

by all of the above.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a few years ago. I still don’t know the answer, and probably never will. But I do know what attracts me …

Art by Hamish Blakely


Posted by on March 29, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life


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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




French jazz

on my turntable.


I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.


I can almost hear


bursting with life

outside my window.


I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both


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








© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this around this time last year. But I like it so I am inflicting it upon readers again.

Art by Hamish Blakely


Posted by on February 2, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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I have travelled

through myth and legend

fantasy and mystery

storm and rain

sun and shadow

beauty and tears

sex and darkness

to find you

to explore you

to own you

eyes and mouth

hair and throat

breasts and hips

arse and legs

belly and thighs

submissive soul

and clever mind.

You are my odyssey.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new, yet true.

Art by Hamish Blakely


Posted by on January 27, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life


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A pale


wintry sun


the walls

and strokes

the furnishings.


This late

November afternoon

is silent


and still.


Yet with one eye


as if waiting

for something

or someone.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written in another November. Yet it feels like today.

Art by Hamish Blakely


Posted by on November 30, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life


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I imagine you dancing

your body a slave

to the rhythm

and to me.


I close my eyes

and feel myself




© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely



Posted by on September 14, 2019 in Uncategorized


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Seven billion souls

milling round

in confusion

in frustration

in desolation

in isolation

in depression

in anticipation

in expectation

in hope

on this relentlessly

spinning planet.

Somehow ours




© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not one of my new posts. But when souls collide ….

Art by Hamish Blakely



Posted by on September 11, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life


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