The Name's Bond, James Bond! Poem by Denis Martindale

Borne of hardship, trained to fight,
Then trusted in the field,
Fierce intellect and keen insight,
Determined not to yield...
Tenacity in thought and deed,
An agent through and through,
Always expected to succeed,
To do what he must do...

To kiss a girl, or bed her friend,
To kill somebody close,
To see his mission to the end,
In ways God only knows...
With Q providing micro toys
Or cars that save the day,
Yet finally, Bond makes the choice,
The villains to repay...

Pretence is like his middle name,
Bravado from the start,
Survival is his claim to fame
Despite his broken heart...
Assassins off the roof to hurl,
Kung Fu or boxer's fists,
He saves the world, he gets the girl,
The fantasy persists...

Sometimes he merely aggravates,
Throws caution to the winds,
No mercy to the ones he hates,
He rarely saves their skins...
While he impresses now and then
With courage and finesse,
He stands alone, apart from men,
With short-lived happiness...

And yet to him, each owes a debt,
When freedom's been preserved,
Against a strong-willed Soviet
Or femme fatale that's curved...
Or business tycoon on the make,
Or scientist with schemes,
Bond has the life skills meant to break
And shatter all their dreams...

Escaping death, he perseveres,
Defying countless odds,
Sometimes steadfast, sometimes with fears,
Yet still the choice is God's...
This action man has loved and lost
The good girls and the bad,
He chose this life and paid the cost,
As killer, saint and cad...


Denis Martindale, copyright October 2014.