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Cover

She captures

her image

for me

on her phone

and cannot

help looking

like the cover

of Vogue.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new, but true

Art by Louis Treserras

 
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Posted by on June 14, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Something for her

LETIZIA A LA SIESTA

She wishes he would write something for her.

A fantasy of endless, velvet, star-filled skies.

Of a wild, round, luminous moon hanging like a silver lantern. Of a warm, perfumed breeze stroking her hair and tugging gently at her dress.

Of the distant strains of a yearning, lone violin fading and rising through the whispering trees.

Of his hands releasing the pale silk gown from her eloquent shoulders, and it running off her naked body like a caress and falling with a sigh at her feet.

Of her perfect, dangerous, wondrous curves laid out by him on a cool, crisp white linen sheet. Of her arms and legs stretched wide. Of his tongue, his lips, his fingers over every inch of her tingling skin, upon her sensual mouth, her exquisite breasts, and her urgent, swollen, fragrant sex.

Of him filling her with pleasure, with joy, and with himself.

In every way.

.

She wishes he would write something for her.

He just has.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I wrote and posted this seven years ago, and a few times since. Definitely the Romantic side of RD. I am rather fond of it. I hope regular readers do not mind the repeat

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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In my youth

Art by Annick Bouvattier

A girl like you.

In my youth I would have fought other boys for the right to walk you home. Wearing the scars like a badge. Or I would have wandered backwards and forwards past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you at a window. Or long for you to see me, a shadowy figure beneath the street light, and think me romantic.

In my youth I would have carved presumptuous initials into innocent trees, into battered park benches, into tables, and desks, and the backs of chairs – not caring if I was caught. Or that you would disapprove if you knew.

In my youth I would have sought you out at dances, making a mess of my over-rehearsed lines. I would have asked a friend to give you messages – which you would probably receive with a frown.

In my youth I would have made up a hundred heroic stories in my head where I come to your rescue. Saving you from the clutches of the mob, the grip of an assailant, the jaws of death. Or perhaps just finding your lost dog.

In my youth I would have written you tortured poems, toiled over for hours, scrawled on stolen paper, that would never leave the pocket of my faded denim jeans.

In my youth I would have wished for the internet, if I could have seen into the future.

Yet here I am. Connection at my fingertips. Posting pointless poetry.

That you will probably never read

A girl like you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written some years ago, and I am still posting pointless poetry.

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
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Posted by on June 11, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Drifting

 

It is a soft, still afternoon.

It is slowly stirring from the morning’s drab dullness.

The light is becoming pale honey.

There is bird song floating in through the open window, bleating of sheep, a distant dog barking somewhere beyond the trees, horses hooves nearby.

I live in the country. Trees and hedges, narrow lanes, small ancient villages, a patchwork of fields that are home to sheep or cows or are yellow with rape, green with wheat or blue with flax.

Sometimes I feel far from the world.

It is easy to drift.

Like today.

I have practised Pilates, I have meditated, I have drunk tea, eaten lunch, and sighed at the world on the web.

I am now tapping out words which will somehow, magically, weave themselves into sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and then a book.

But still, it is easy to drift.

And to let myself think of you instead.

Wearing a simple summer dress that kisses your curves perfectly.  Your hair is free, your smile warm, your eyes laughing. Your beauty makes me sigh. And smile.

My fingers leave the keyboard.

I close my eyes and breathe you in. Across the miles. You fill my mind.

Your presence inhabits me.

There is nothing here but you.

It is a soft, still afternoon.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Vladimir Volegov

 
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Posted by on June 10, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Maybe somewhere

.

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere.

.

Maybe

somewhere close

beyond fields

and trees

roads and cities

valleys and streams.

.

Maybe

somewhere far

beyond borders

and flags

mountains and lakes

continents and seas.

.

Maybe

somewhere

beneath

different skies

in a different land

with a different tongue

and a different skin.

.

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere.

.

Maybe

you are out there

somewhere

waiting

for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a few years ago, but I like it.

Painting by Marc Figueras

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

 

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More than your name

I whispered more

than your name

last night

before finally

I slept.

.

I whispered more

than your name

last night,

bravely

into the dark,

like a poem

like a prayer.

.

I whispered more

than your name

last night,

hoping the soft

seeking syllables,

the wishing

wanting words

would somehow

reach you

and touch you

deep.

.

I whispered more

than your name

last night.

Perhaps

you didn’t hear.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but I whispered your name.

Art by Amy Judd

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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A darker twist

She is naked.

She runs her fingertips along her cheeks and lightly over lips.

So gently that her skin tingles.

She closes her eyes and trails them over her chin, onto her neck and into the hollow of her throat.

They trace a line across her collar bones. She shivers. But she is not cold.

She is surprised to find her skin so sensitive to her own touch.

She parts her thighs. Wide. As wide as she can.

Breathing hard she allows her hands to slide down and cup her breasts.

She slowly circles her areolae with her thumbs, feeling the already erect nipples harden into tight buds.

She strokes herself, exquisite arcs of excitement. She almost becomes lost in the sensation.

She imagines her hands becoming his. She is under his instruction, under his control

She takes each nipple between thumb and forefinger.

She begins to squeeze. Hard.

In her mind she can hear his voice. Soft, deep, dark, commanding, certain.

‘Harder’

She tightens her grip and gasps at the pain. And yet also the pleasure.

She knows she is wet. Very.

His voice again.

‘Harder’

This time she is brutal with herself.

She cries out, yet maintains her vice-like grip.

It is like two electric shocks. Red hot wires running from breasts to belly to sex.

Urgent, sharp, shocking. intense.

Heavenly.

The deep pitch of her arousal takes her breath away.

She realizes her fantasies have suddenly taken a darker twist.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a new post – but oh, that darker twist

Art by Steve Hanks

 
 

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Addiction

Addiction

.

The uncaring night will take me

And oppress me with its heat.

Leave me wide-eyed

and sleepless

In a tangle of tortured sheets.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

The over-bright dawn will find me

And burden me with its hope.

Leave me confused and restless

Tied up tightly in my own rope.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

The relentless day will trap me

And unsight me with its glare.

Leave me wandering and helpless

Your distance has stripped me bare.

.

Since you became my addiction

I have wanted no one else.

Only to see you dance before me

I have longed for nothing else.

.

© 2009 the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Past readers of this blog will recognise one of my favourite poems. I wrote it twelve years ago in strange circumstances.
Posted again because sometimes one becomes addicted …

 Art by Rainer Auger

 
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Posted by on May 29, 2021 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Afternoon

Art by Steve Hanks

Horses hooves

in the lane

outside my window

sheep bleating

in the field

billowing clouds

white on blue.

.

I sit here

day dreaming

music playing

tea steaming

and a long list

of things to do.

.

And wanting

and wanting

and wanting

you.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Steve Hanks. She looks nothing like the wanted one, but it is a lovely painting.

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2021 in D/s, Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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Reading Shakespeare

I approach life

and love

as if reading

Shakespeare,

becoming lost

in the Tragedies,

laughing

with the Comedies,

and ignoring

the Histories.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a few years ago but always true.

Art – Poster from the film Shakespeare in Love © Universal Pictures 1998

 
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Posted by on May 26, 2021 in Poetry, romance, Still Life

 

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