Tag Archives: romance

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


Tags: , , , , , , , ,



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


Tags: , , , , , ,



I wish

you and I

could dance

the tango,

if only once.



in a dress

that loves you


And me

in my favorite

black hat.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely


Posted by on April 2, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Thursday’s Child


Thursday’s Child


Well, I hear that you have been travelling

with a friend in an open-topped car,

and you revealed to him all your secrets

and you showed him your operation scar.

You painted his name on your mirror

with a lipstick glossy and red,

and you posed for imaginary photos

in the warm nest of your unmade bed..


He sent you a handful of spidery poems

that you captured with pins on your wall,

I read them when you were sleeping

and they seemed to make no sense at all.

Yet you recite them when you are bathing,

trailing your sharp nails over your thighs,

and you emerge mysterious and glowing

with a wild, vacant look in your eyes.


There is more to this than just attraction

or some strange late night trick of the light,

and you shouldn’t be reading his memoirs

in a dress that is so transparent and white.

And I fear that you’ve sensed a religion

in the casual, brave cut of his coat,

as you kneel so sublime at his alter

clasping tight all the letters he wrote.


Now I hear you’ve constructed a bonfire

from the things your sweet mother knew best,

and that you comfort his wide-eyed supporters

who sleep with their hands on your breasts.

But you never once give them the shelter

they crave when the light has grown dim,

and while you suffer the press of their bodies

you save all your mystery for him.


I miss you when the round moon is sailing,

I feel your caress in the turn of the tide.

it is as constant as the ache in my shoulders,

It is the sharp stabbing pain of your knife.

And oh, how I hunger for you to be near me,

your peeled clothes like a sea at your feet,

your pale skin tasting of salt and seaweed.

I’m a slave to your scent and your heat.


But if I plead with him to release you,

with just a snap of his finger and thumb

will you forget his smooth benediction,

or the velvet magic of his silver tongue?



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photography by Ines Rehberg.   Model is Megan Szczypka. I chose this photo because she is not unlike the female subject of the poem

This is one of favourite my ‘performance’ poems. In fact it might even be one of the poems I am most proud of having written. It started out as a song but I struggled to write a chorus.  I have posted it a number of times before when this blog was even less popular than it is now.  It tells a story that was inspired by (my) real life events.  Because it is penned in the first person, the reader/listener tends to think that the narrator is myself. Actually I was the writer of the ‘handful of spidery poems’.  

Do listen to the audio – it was a poem that was meant to be read.



Posted by on March 13, 2017 in Lovers Past, Poetry


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The longest road



I would take the longest road home

through the cities where there are crowds and lost souls and men with ugly smiles,

over high, lonely mountains where the ice and snow chill the bone.

across the cruellest seas where the waves climb high to claim me,

amidst the unexplored forests where the trees usher in the menacing, rustling dark,

into the bleakest deserts where the angry wind hurls sand into my eyes to blind me.


I would take the longest road home

if it meant passing by your door.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks



Posted by on February 26, 2017 in Still Life


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Raising a glass




On the eve of a day

commercially obsessed

with couples

I raise a glass

to those

who by circumstance

or design

will be alone.

You too

are special.

This one

is for you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Victor Bauer



Posted by on February 13, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


Tags: , , , , , , ,

Candle burning



A match flares.

A hiss. A spark.

A candle flickers

The darkness is softened

I cup the light in my hands. The flame is like a tiny dancer. She bends and quivers in the cold wind. She twists and shivers and stoops low. She recoils from the snow. She flinches from the storm. She almost dies as the demons of the night blow hard and cruel. Without mercy.

Yet I protect her, defend her, nurture her, shield her.

I guard her, shelter her, screen her, secure her.

I hold her close to my chest, near to my heart. I whisper my own private prayers to her. I carry her home. I find her a safe haven away from harm.

I place her in the window so you can see her dancing.

A candle is burning.

She is burning for you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

From a couple of years ago. But there is a candle burning.

Art originally © Ameyama


Posted by on February 12, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life


Tags: , , , , , ,