Tag Archives: relationships

Back home


‘I think it is time,’

he smiled sadly

collecting up

his battered notebook

black pen

dark cloak

sad guitar

and half empty bottle,

and kissing her forehead,

‘for me to go

back home.’



© the author writing a Romantic Dominant

Photograph of Johnny Cash. Source unknown.



Posted by on April 28, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


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Be home soon


The rain falls,

drops like tears

on the glass.

The light fades,

yields to a night

without stars.

You will be home soon


The air cools,

makes the house shift,

creak and moan.

An owl hoots

somewhere near.

A wild sound.

You will be home soon.


The clock ticks,

marking time

in endless seconds.

The day breaks,

grey and empty.

The rain still falls.


Please come home soon.



Copyright the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This poem was originally written many years ago for someone whose lover did not come home that night. They never came home again.
I posted this here nearly five years ago. It suits my mood today.

Art by Karen Woods


Posted by on April 27, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


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I would take

the poison apple


from your lips

into my own mouth

and trust in you

to kiss me awake

in a hundred years.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this last year. It was based on one of my own tweets. I rather like it, so have posted again.

Art by Evelina Ladzinska


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


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Sap, rising


Saturday afternoon.

The first day in April, my birthday month.

I walk with the hounds through the tiny village. The sky is hung blue over the weathered ironstone cottages. A pale sun is smearing the walls with gold. The yellow daffodils are abundant and vivid against green. A magnolia is ripe and creamy with flowers. Birds rustle noisily. The bleating of ewes and lambs echoes and stretches over fields.

There are a million pale green buds bursting open on dark, skeletal trees. Branches and limbs bleed from old scars.

Spring has come. Sap is rising.

I can feel it surging within me as I stride out past the church, along the farm lane, past wooden fences and shifting, silent horses.

I can feel it pulsing through my veins and sense it pumping beneath my skin. I am pleasurably aware of a slight but perceptible tumescence between my thighs.

But it is not the approaching summer that is causing my own sap to rise, lifting me in spirit and body on this bold, bright, brave afternoon.

Unless that summer bears your name.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph of sap taken from Pinterest, provenance unknown. If it is yours I will credit or remove.








Posted by on April 1, 2017 in 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

Art by Hamish Blakely




Posted by on March 30, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


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No more the Red Rose


I am in a low mood.

It is that time of year.  Fast approaching another birthday. Another mark of fading.

And there is another reason,  which is not for explaining here.

This poem is the favorite of all my performance poems. It was written one March a number of years ago when in I was in a similar place. It was only ever intended to be read aloud, so I have just loaded the audio.

It is that time of year.

And it is that kind of day.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph by Little Cat Eye


Posted by on March 27, 2017 in D/s, Poetry, Still Life


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I wrote poems for you


I wrote poems for you


I wrote poems for you.

Some were bold, burnished, bright.

They praised your beauty, your body.

Burning for your

brilliant mind.


I wrote poems for you.

Some were sweet, silky, soft.

They were sensual, sexual, seductive.

Seeking to steal

your sacred heart.


I wrote poems for you.

Some were yearning, wanting, craving.

They were aching, thirsting, needing,

Longing to draw you

into my arms.


I wrote poems for you.

But they were just wasted

unwanted words.

You were always

someone else’s girl.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This the second outing for this poem written two years ago – no reason for reposting, except that I like it.

Art by Fabian Perez


Posted by on March 26, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


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