The Wild In You

The Wild In You

His idea of adventure called for the wild

He wanted a woman in his bed not a mouse

Someone who was happy to walk naked around the house

A woman without boundaries who knew how to play

He was not talking about Rummikub or Scrabble

Life needed excitement not just a little dabble

He needed a woman who defied convention

A woman who was clear about her intention

Open to exploration and invention

A woman who locked modesty in detention

One who would give pleasure both day and night

When they had learned to dance to the same tune

Who could share her life with great abandon

Where each learned how to bend in so many ways

More than the casual offering of a quick fuck

Whose flames were extinguished with a suck

Or services to be exchanged for a measly buck

Where is the wild woman

Are you there

Throw off inhibition

We need to share

Scream out the naughty thoughts

You have hidden there

Tell me you want to invade my lair

Don’t be shy

Don’t be nervous

Don’t be scared

Be the wild in you that must be shared

Light the wick

Let’s burn baby burn

Copyright: David Hopcroft May 2023

Life and death of a telephone booth

Life and death of a telephone booth

A little red box stood on the corner of my street

With a black receiver and buttons A and B

A large paper directory and fag ends at my feet

There was additional decoration for all to see

Within this little box folk would leave a calling card

Advertising their services and their wares

Just a number and a message that might seem hard

To understand unless you knew your apples from your pears

Each card carried a private number with a text

Joe the plumber for emergencies seemed innocent

But others might lead one to feel a little vexed

Call Dawn for fragrant flowers that are succulent

They were the Yellow Pages of the night

That led to private rooms where secrets could be hidden

I would study them to unravel the invite

Leather retailers where you must do what was bidden

Lessons on Spanish guitar no strings attached

The duality of the meaning held in the phrase

You might have to phone to see if you were matched

To discover what was offered in so many ways

Jane’s full massage left nothing to imagination or disguise

But you needed to phone to ascertain the price

Her touch upon your skin was sure to get a rise

So much would be offered and displayed if you were nice

Now the internet has removed this fascination

Secrets no longer hidden everything to be displayed

Where lies the mystery in open exhibition

That informs you of how much is to be paid

The mini-video that exhibits those wobbling breasts

Or the panties being removed in the car

A selection on offer The Question Which is best

You can see the honey now the lid is off the jar

The message and the mouse click have replaced the rotary dial

The imagery has killed off the mystery calling card

With the video camera she can advertise in style

Inviting you for action with no holds barred

Then the imagery becomes flattery that will deceive

The photoshop slimming down of the waist

And those boobs Really Do you honestly believe

Look carefully and do not act in haste

The little red box is still there on my walk

Paint peeling windows broken and no phone

The cards have gone and there’s no double talk

Yet beneath them was an honesty that’s flown

Can ageing minds still entice and walk the walk

Can we find thrills beyond the dog and bone

Hey there tell girl me really you wanna talk

Then tempt me with a message whilst I’m here at home

Copyright: David Hopcroft May 2023

13. Behind Closed Doors Delete Delete

13. Behind closed doors Delete Delete

The attraction for her secret life played on her addiction

Shunning media that hindered with restriction

Her daytime pretence presenting something of a contradiction

Whilst there appeared to be no remedy for her affliction

Life that seemed so normal took a sudden twist

She found a world where everything could exist then not exist

Luring her into the shadows that she could not resist

At first the burning desire gave her all that she dreamed of and wished

An attraction of actions once performed she hesitated to repeat

In the nocturnal safety of her room she believed she could be discrete

All those pictures and messages were special for the voyeurs’ treat

The only meaning to her life was ending each night with Delete Delete

Delete delete delete Each night she was feeling bolder

Her fear-frosted connection to reality growing colder

As time passed so did that her sense of growing older

She deleted the very source of love that might let her smoulder

The search for happiness and joy ending in defeat

Action that brought down those walls of conceit

Her final act that terminated a life so incomplete

Those keyboard strokes a sad farewell of Delete Delete

Copyright: David Hopcroft December 2022

As part of a study for transmedia work, I had been looking at various social media sites and a number seemed to be consuming participants in a way that shocked me. I began to understand why lives are taken because they have lost meaning.

Goth 1

Goth 1

She loved the darkness and sought out the night

Shunned the strange desire of others for bright light

There was a mystery about her that forever attracted me

A searching of a restless soul demanding to be free

As I walked through the dampness of the mist at dusk

I felt guilty as my aged body seemed to yearn for lust

I wandered down the alleyways hoping we might meet again

My mind so focussed on her presence I felt insane

Across the open heath where the thunder rolled

Her image never deserting me as I onwards strolled

I had walked with her upon the sands of a moonlit beach

Now I can hear her voice but her form seems out of reach

We had danced within the cavern and held each other close

She had led me by instruction in what she loved the most

We had walked the promenade where she wore black faux fur

Talked beneath the stars about a liaison that might occur

Her black eyeshadow and her lipstick when the moonlight caught her face

Seduced by the movement when she drew back the veil of black lace

I remember how she teased me when she took me home

How she laughed when she discarded the necklace of carved bone

She gave me just a glimpse of her black fishnet tights

Then seduction was complete when she turned out the lights

I submitted easily to her darkest wishes as she was thrilled

We lay together in the coffin where our love was fulfilled

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

6. The Metro

6. The Metro

An intrepid exploration peeking from behind a newspaper page

My heart missing two beats when with a smile she tried to engage

Should I really have these naughty thoughts at my age

A station and I pray she does not rise and move towards the door

She looks across at me holds the smile for longer of that I am sure

The returning reticence within suppressing my desire for more

I felt guilty as I seemed to stare and I am sure that I blushed

Now her eyes focus on me as if I am imprisoned by her gaze

Like a dog I sit looking as if waiting for the bone to be thrown

Yet fearful of reacting lest the imaginative hope is crushed

Another stop she rises will my mind now hit erase

Then she passes a note with a number saying ‘This is my phone’

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

Metal fender love

Metal fender love

Brightly polished metal paint standing on the lot

Her open top admired by passersby in their ogling shop

Retro-romantic purring with attraction

Thoughts stirred within wanting to turn on her ignition

Waiting to be unleashed beneath the hood a mighty beast

Her mind thinking of those nipples surely fully greased

Six seductive cylinders almost within her reach

Listening to the salesman who had learned to preach

How she loved to admire her chassis

She’d take the Interstate from here to Tallahassee

Knowing it would hold firm as it glided along the highway

Keep your Tesla sunshine she was going to do this her way

Chrome plated attraction from the world of yesteryear

Stick shift for her hand she despised the auto-gear

Two tone elegance and wings protruding from the rear

This was mechanical seduction and she had no fear

Her twin headlights attracting with their glow

Switched on she knew that they could steal the show

Leather upon the seats where she could slide

So cool upon the thighs as she thought of the ride

She took the keys of pleasure living out life today

She pressed the pedal to the metal and she was away

She scorched black rubber along the boulevard

Grasped the leather knob and pulled back hard

Tearing up the miles until she ran out of juice

Two hundred horses seeking freedom were let loose

Some girls love abs and biceps but she knew her desire

Only the pounding of six pistons could light her fire

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

Moment 2: Scoot Over

Moment 2: Scoot Over

I think my life is changing

Because we are together now

Well almost

We are under the same roof

Now we are sharing a bedroom

Of course

That was my idea

I think that we both wanted more

When we thought of what had gone before

He may have hesitated

I was sure

But

There is something still between us

A feeling there should be a boundary

Like a line drawn in the sand

Which I knew that I had to cross

So when he returned from work

Snuggling down beneath the blankets

I would climb onto the bed

In hope more than expectation

Would whisper the words

“Scoot over “

Then slide beneath the blanket beside him

He was tired

I used to be afraid he would fall asleep

Cuddling beside him

Pressing his body close to mine

Wrapping a leg around him

Surely he must recognize the sign

I knew my feeling

He was mine

If he’d ask me I know what I would say

I’d smile at him and reply “Of course you may”

But he didn’t and I wondered perhaps he was gay

I shivered

Perhaps he just wanted me to go away

Strange how we cuddled together every night

A touching of bodies that I felt was right

Yet knowing that he never responded with delight

I could not spend the night within his bed

For I always felt something might be amiss

This was never my imagined bliss

Had I invested my life in that solitary kiss

But still each time he undressed when he came home

I would climb up and say “Scoot over”

Because I did not want to be alone

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

Moment

Moment

I wonder why I took so long

Why did I wait for him when I could have led

Why did I wish and dream

That there was a place for me in his bed

An evening of idle chat that meant so much more

We were both conscious of what we desired

Or was that just my wish and not his

I know my heart seemed to burn with his fire

I remember the evening

We agreed to go for a walk in the park

As if I could finally pluck up the courage

To make the first move in the dark

My pulse was racing

I knew there was an opportunity I should not miss

Was I really luring him

Onto that bench to share our first kiss

How strange after all that time

I had imagined the moment every day

Each time there had been a different response

I would not have wanted this any other way

Could he really be mine

In that moment I really believed

As my tongue pushed through his lips

My heart was surely not deceived

His arms brought me close

I liked that he was holding me tight

Thoughts rushed into my mind

My head was feeling light

I wondered and wished

Just how far we could go

But the moonlight was revealing

I sensed his answer would be ‘no’

So we sat on the bench

We made that fist kiss last

An opportunity taken

Or had the moment passed

I tugged at his arm

What if I was to ask and suggest

That we might go further

I’m sure he would show an interest

I know that we have started

That kiss lasted ten minutes at a guess

Do we want this relationship

I think his answer might be ‘yes’

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

Changing Scenes

Changing scenes

The familiar message ping

The face popped up on her iphone

Missing you

Ping

An emoji aubergine came next

Miss U2

She responded with a series of hearts

Another ping

U free tonight

She wanted to respond

Before her lay the pile of envelopes

Paper yellowed over the years

She had taken them from the dust-covered box

That she had recovered from the loft

Cleaning out after her grandmother had passed on

They were held together by yellow ribbon

Tied by a classic flower bow

She remembered her grandmother teaching her

She was eight years old

Flower bows Dior bows and Mum’s bow

At New Year her presents always came with ribbons

Ping

You were hot in that last clip

Send me more of those

Ping

Tongue hanging out

Peach

She was feeling irritated

Now she looked and felt her curiosity rising

She wanted to untie the bow and open the envelopes

She wondered

Who were the letters from

What did they say

She could see the stamp on the first envelope

A commemorative from a coronation

The letter had been posted from overseas

Should they be opened

Was she intruding upon a privacy now passed

The more she thought

The more she seemed unsure

Ping

You still there

She responded hastily with a flower

That would buy her a little time

The letters were a part of her history

That was important

She managed to slide the ribbon from the envelopes

Keeping the bow intact

Lifting the flap of the first envelope

She carefully withdrew the sheets

At first it was the script that fascinated her

Old-fashioned ink

A Royal blue colour

She wondered

Had the script been crafted with a fountain pen

Perhaps even with a quill and nib

That would have been really romantic

Ping

I can get another girl

His temper was starting to show

She had met this before

He would buy presents afterwards

My Dearest Lilia

Shy paused

To her she had always been Granny Lil

He was missing her

She glanced at the date

The lines were poetic

She marvelled at his command of her language

Blushed a little at his outpourings

He apologized for not phoning

There were few lines available after the war

He knew she could not afford to phone him

Carefully she replaced the sheets

Ping

F**k you then

She was struggling now

A single heart

Maybe he would soften

Ping

How about an answer

She opened another

Then another

A love affair was being played out for her

Even though she could only read one side

The other seemed to emerge and take form

As she read lines so carefully composed

Ping

Bitch

Was he about to dump her

There was just a hint of panic

Her reply

A tulip

Then quickly

She unsent her message

Something did not feel right

Now the war was over

The paper had changed to a pale blue

He wrote of her poems to him

How she wished she had her letters as well

Why had he not kept them?

Ping

Whats that mean

Ping

You f**king with me

Ping

Bitch

Screw you

Hearts would awaken to caresses and kisses

Rainbows would greet each morning

Her face framed within

Solitude burned away as a morning mist

Vanishes with the rising of the sun

As her letters arrived

Her eyes sparkling like the twinkling of the stars

Upon a moonless night

He thanked her for the photograph

Ping

I sorry

Ping

Really miss you

Ping

Want you

She drank in the contents of each page

As if the love expressed was now filling her body

Awakening her heart

Giving her life a feeling that was new

Breathing love and wonder into her body

Those TikTok short clips she sent in the early hours

When her parents were sleeping

Were they a tease or some inner desire

She had ached for pleasure at that moment

Though her memories also held the pain

Remembering

As she lay on her back

Until his pounding finished

Then he would vanish into the kitchen

To get another drink

As she stared at the ceiling

The bruising lasted longer

She went home early

Determined not to stay until the dawn

Did he have some hold

Photos

When she held her phone between her legs

She had been stupid

Now she must escape

Ping

She switched off her phone

For the first time she felt she was free

In the silence of her room

She found some sheets and a ballpoint pen

Sitting on the edge of her bed

She remembered him

The months had passed

But would he still remember her

She had left him hastily

Seduced by her romance with a late night phone

Now she felt what it was like

Alone

She began to write

‘Dear ……. ‘

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022

Caged

Caged

The fascination was born with the capsule in which she had been enclosed

A tightening of strings that seemed to stretch around her throat

The city promised the freedom from perception that had been imposed

No longer would her imagined friends tease and appear to gloat

Lost in a new world she wandered aimlessly like a stray upon the street

Tormented by the attraction and seduction of pictures friends would post

Leading her to gravitate towards an underworld where hands reached out to greet

Finding new company where she believed she could discard the ghost

They taught her how to dress how to form her lips to perfect the pout

To display her body and to move so that every movement became the lure

In the alleyways she found herself exploring until she began to doubt

Not realizing that her addiction might have passed beyond the cure

She was building herself a life that would become shrouded in secrecy

Hiding behind the veils fearful that her new life might be discovered

By those from whom she sought escape as she ignored her destiny

Now her life seemed concealed and she feared if it should be uncovered

Retreating to her room each night she created her new world of fantasy

Indulging in her solitude as she believed in the safety of the night

Though in daylight hours her reticence gave the impression of mystery

When dusk descended she awoke unaware of the need for flight

Attraction became desire and then obsession with what she craved

Convinced that her fantasy had now taken form and was real

This was the paradise of make-believe and she was saved

The promise of a future beckoned her past she would now conceal

Until she found that his world was really no different from her own

Each had built the gilded cage that imprisoned both from reality

Their lies were a cobbled pathway that could never lead to a home

Once honesty had been discarded they could never be set free

Copyright: David Hopcroft November 2022