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The wonder

 

In every day

there is something new

something unexpected

something different.

I remain wide-eyed

like a child

at the wonder of it.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I have posted this before. I have not changed

Photography/Art by Erik Johansson

 
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Posted by on January 12, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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A belief

 

I do not believe

in astrology

fortune tellers

oracles

tarot cards

religions

predestination

or fate.

 

But I do believe

we had to meet.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new but maybe apt.

Art by Rob Hefferan

 
2 Comments

Posted by on January 10, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Ruined

 

You have ruined

my box of words.

None of them

are good enough.

None of them

are adequate.

None of them

can do you justice.

 

My nouns

are neutered,

my adjectives

are absent,

my verbs

are without value.

 

I have run out

of metaphors

similes

and superlatives.

 

You have ruined

my box of words.

How can I

describe you now?

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but probably relevant.

Art by the late Steve Hanks

 
29 Comments

Posted by on January 8, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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A miracle

 

When the night

is silent

holding its breath

for a miracle

I imagine you

closing your eyes

and dreaming only

of me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on January 7, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Greater Danger?

 

Is your beauty

more dangerous

to me

than my words

are to you,

and will we

ever know

for sure?

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a year ago, but a valid question.

Art by William Oxer

 

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

 

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The one

 

Heaven__s_a_lie____by_helionn

He knows no other way

It is simply who he is. The way he has always been.

His earliest erotic fantasies were of control. And of damsels in distress.

And yet also of goddesses and worship.

He loves women. With respect. With admiration. With a deep and endless desire.

He needs to adore and to be adored.

Over the years he has taught himself to be a Master of exquisite pleasure and delicious pain. He has known beauty, sensuality and submission beyond words.

But now winter tugs at his coat. He has become lined and grizzled, etched and silver.

The night is long. And his fire burns low.

Yet there is a light. Innocent, pure and holy.

Could she be the one

the one

the one.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this in December a few years ago, and have repeated it before at this time of year. I think I was perhaps feeling a little weary/melancholy when I first penned it. Smiles.

Photo/Art by Helionn on DeviantArt

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Always promised

 

I believe you

were always

promised

to me

across the ages

over distance

beyond

the night sky.

 

A gift

a prize

a treasure

forever

to be admired

and adored.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

.

.

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on December 30, 2020 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Winter solstice

 

He thinks about her.

He is sipping red wine. It fills his mouth with grape and his heart with hope.  Outside it is still raining.

Earlier he had walked the hounds in a brief respite from the deluge.  There had been a delayed monsoon waiting in the dying-leaved trees.

A hidden sun had set invisibly over his grey, sodden, dripping village before four o’clock. The afternoon had been swallowed up by night without a whimper

It is the shortest day.

He lives by the seasons and can already feel the change. The days will lengthen from now. It is a clean, beckoning, hungry new page.

He will write her name on it.

He does not know who she is. And yet he already senses her presence in his life.

He cannot be sure if they have yet made contact, chased shadows, crossed borders, traded smiles, touched hands, exchanged truths, offered up words, or painted pictures on a blank canvas.

He is unable to tell if they are already gently familiar or are completely unconnected strangers.

Yet he is certain, at this change of the solstice, that she is there.  For him.

So he takes another sip and leans back into the soft, comfortable leather of his chair.

He can almost smell her scent on his fingers.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I was certain I had posted a short piece some time ago inspired by the winter solstice which, in the northern hemisphere, was yesterday. I looked for it a few years back and I eventually found it under the title ‘Her scent’. I had actually written it in 2012. Time flies.

Much has changed since then. Sadly both of the hounds mentioned in the piece have died. The village has been swapped for an even smaller one. And I left behind a business life some time ago to focus on my writing (a success) and do other things.

But the words seem to capture the day and the time. So I have posted last year and the two years before, with a new title to celebrate the day. But with the same art. I think it meant something to me at the time. I do believe posting it has become a Winter Solstice tradition.

Art by Thomas Saliot

 
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Posted by on December 22, 2020 in Uncategorized

 

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Here

 

Here

in this iron and brass bed

in this oak-beamed room

in this ancient cottage

in this rural village

in the heart of England

I think of you

and I want you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
8 Comments

Posted by on December 16, 2020 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Secret dance

 

You and I

we dance

in these shadows

so darkly

so quietly

so closely

so secretly

no light escapes

not a whisper

is heard.

 

Nothing

is revealed.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely

 
4 Comments

Posted by on December 10, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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