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Tag Archives: relationships

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

 
13 Comments

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

 

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Just poetry

 

Sometimes

my poetry

is just poetry.

 

It is not

a song

from my soul.

 

It is not

a yearning

cry for help.

 

It is not

the burning

of desire.

 

It is not

a statement

of intent.

 

It is not

secretly

about you.

 

It is not

how I feel

right now.

 

Sometimes

my poetry

is just poetry.

 

A jumble

of words

I strung

untidily

together.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago. Still true. Except for the many times when it is not just poetry.

Art by Victor Bauer

 
12 Comments

Posted by on March 26, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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I am not a hunter

fabian-perez-fabian-and-monica-18912

I am not a hunter

I am not, in this digital world of ghosts and shadows, friends and fakes, dreamers and poets, seeking to find a lover. To have my words read is a compelling enough motive. It is my primary goal.

And yet it is hard not to cross paths with the beautiful and bright, the innocent and intelligent, the creative and clever, the sexy and submissive, the shy and serious. It is hard not to attract and be attracted. It is the joy of this vast global crowd that we can meet so many kindred spirits.

And I would be lying if I said I had not touched and been touched by such special women.

Across the miles and by skin.

Yet I am not a hunter.

Except when it comes

to you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I found this piece while looking for something else this morning. I wrote it five years ago. It is still true, although I have become a little more jaded, lazy and cynical over the years – so the last sentence may be redundant.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on February 29, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life

 

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No one will do

 

When it comes

to my wanting

a pure

potent

powerful

perfect

paradise,

a peerless

sans pareil

playground

of sexual pleasure,

I am positive

no one will do

but you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago, but no one will do …

Art by William Oxer

 
6 Comments

Posted by on February 25, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Act dangerously

the-red-umbrella

 

Romantic that I am, I have a softish spot for Valentine’s Day.

(Although the Dominant in me objects strongly).

Not so much for the exchange of cards, gifts and supper between those who are already lovers.  I can see the romance, the affirmation, the enchantment and the intimacy – I have fallen under its amorous spell often enough. Yet one can also almost smell the commercial cynicism at this time of the year. It sucks.

No, I think what really makes February the fourteenth special is that it provides almost-strangers the perfect excuse and the ideal opportunity to flirt outrageously.

And to act dangerously.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Loui Jover

This is not a new post, but it has become almost a Valentine’s Day tradition for me to repost it around this time of year, to remind readers to be bold and to have fun.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on February 13, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Next Best Thing

 

It was perpetual summer, richly fragrant with potent mary jane and pungent patchouli.

I was sixteen.

She was two years older – so far out of my league that she should never have even noticed me.  And yet somehow I was there, amazed at my good fortune, hopelessly in love with her, and in complete awe of her friends. They were ultra-hip, achingly cool and comfortably rich.

Whereas I owned the Levi’s I stood up in, a couple of faded shirts, a borrowed guitar, and my notebook of spidery poems.

There was a gentle candle-lit dinner party in one of daddy’s spare houses.  The room was beamed and flagged and full of style and music. I was a pretty boy – an amusing novelty to wear like a trinket on her arm.  Although I never realised that at the time.

The conversation turned to views of what a perfect partner might be.  She waxed lyrical about what would excite her.  Intelligence, a sense of humour, a slim, slender physique, a writer, a revolutionary, a mass of golden curls, eyes that could both command and romance.  I swear she was looking at me. I thought she was talking about me.  I was young, proud and special.  I had smoked perhaps a little too much dope.

‘Thank you.’ I said, when she had finished.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the table erupted with mocking laughter.  She reached across and patted my hand.

‘Oh, darling boy.  Did you think I meant you?’

I lowered my eyes, blushing fiercely, almost tearful at my own stupidity.

‘Don’t worry,’ she consoled me. ‘you are the next best thing.’  There was more laughter.

It was an instructive and humbling moment that I promised myself I would never forget.

It still lives on, all these years later, in my e-mail address:

nextthing@_________

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I first posted this in 2012 writing about a memory of my teens that never faded. I suspect we have all had moments like these in our formative years

Photograph by Matt Eaton

 
11 Comments

Posted by on February 11, 2020 in Lovers Past, Still Life

 

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Flown past

 

I have been reading

our past

our dim distant past

captured like photographs

running like video clips

repeating like gifs

fading on pages

that were new

at the time.

 

I have been reading

backwards and forwards

endless conversations

desires and wishes

tears and kisses

endings and silence

promises

to remember

and to never forget.

 

I have been reading

when I should have

been writing.

 

I have been reading

and the time

has flown past.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I first posted this around this time two years ago.  It was a reflective time then, and it is now. So I have posted it again.

Art by Jeremy Mann

 
6 Comments

Posted by on February 10, 2020 in D/s, Lovers Past, Poetry, Still Life

 

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