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Tag Archives: romance

Cloak

I have watched

the light fade

and velvet night fall

blurring edges

erasing lines

stealing shapes

swallowing the day.

It is a safe cloak

in which to hope

to wish

to sleep

to dream

of you

lying warm

and naked

beneath.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

A cloak beneath which to dream of you

Art by Dmitry Kotchetkov

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 11, 2021 in Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Ripples

The ripples

from the pebble

of an idea

he threw

have widened

and deepened

and broken

into sensual waves

caressing

her imagination

and her skin

with delicious

dangerous

desire.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but the ripples are deep

Photographic Art by A K Nicholas

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 9, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Connoisseur

Art by William Oxer

Beauty

can be so bland

plastic and obvious

universal and dull

without flaws.

I prefer yours

rare and special

exquisite and striking

utterly adored

by this true

connoisseur.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 
2 Comments

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

 

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Like Seventeen

A pale, fading

April evening

folding in

playing old vinyl

burning patchouli

writing dark poetry

needing your beauty

wanting your body

and feeling like

seventeen

all over again.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but true.

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

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

 

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I am not a holy man

I am not a holy man.

But I will touch your brow

as you kneel before me.

I will whisper a prayer

to your beauty

and your body.

I am not a holy man.

But I will hear your confession

in the sacred darkness.

I will sing a hymn

to your sweet heart

and submissive soul.

I am not a holy man.

But I will place my hands upon you

and anoint you with oil.

I will bless the moment

of your conversion

that carried you

here to me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks

This piece is perhaps half a dozen years old – I am still not a holy man

 
8 Comments

Posted by on April 6, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, 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

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 5, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, 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 couple of years ago. Still true. Except for the countless times when it is not just poetry.

Art by Victor Bauer

 
11 Comments

Posted by on April 1, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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My doctor has examined me

Type = ArtScans RGB : Gamma = 2.000

 

My doctor has examined me

He is man of great learning and deep understanding.

He is old and wise, and certificates on his wall attest to his vast and eclectic knowledge. Anatomy, psychiatry, psychology, neurology. Surgery, geometry, chemistry, philately, campanology.

He took deep soundings from my pulse. He listened carefully to my heart. He examined my body with clever hands, the strength of my muscles, the structure of my bones, the conductivity of my nerves, the light in my eyes. He considered tendons, ligaments, cartilage.

He had me listen to indistinct sounds. He made me recall half-forgotten scents.  He insisted I recite my darkest poetry.

He made my reflexes dance

He asked me questions, recovered my dreams, investigated my hopes, pondered over my expectations. Asked pointedly about my exercise. And my patterns of sleep.

He explored my diet, my sexual inclinations, my sensual desires.  My abuse of tea. And alcohol.

When he was done he sat me down and faced me. His brow was furrowed, his mouth severe. His chin was set firm. He was serious in his approach. He was careful in his diagnosis.

He shook his head sorrowfully, and with his fat fountain pen wrote slowly upon his pad. He solemnly handed me the page.

My doctor has examined me

He is a man of considerable reputation. I trust him completely.

My doctor has examined me.

My doctor knows what ails me. He knows what has laid me low.

He is certain of the only thing that can make me well. His recommendation is precise and unequivocal.

My doctor has prescribed me you.

It is a repeat prescription.

Of unlimited dose

To be taken as often

as I require.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this five years ago. But It made me chuckle so much as I penned it back then, I have decided to post again now.

Art by Fabian Perez

 
 

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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

 

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Beneath my skin

 

You have touched me

without touching me.

You have made me

feel you

beneath my skin.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but you have touched me.

Art by William Oxer

 
4 Comments

Posted by on March 1, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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