Hey there, this is just a little poem I did, inspired by a scene at the start of the book "Moonraker" when James is going to play Bridges, but this isn't strictly that scene.
Yeah, it's strange but I was bored so here it is - Hope you like it :)
Disclaimer - Nope, don't own James Bond or anything to do with it. They belong to Ian Fleming.
In the thick black jungle,
where predators stalk their prey,
lurking by the green pools,
for their victims to arrive.
This is not unusual in this particular jungle,
predators appear after sunset,
when their prey comes to try their luck,
hoping to leave with what they came to do.
Something is always at the head of these pools,
shuffling the chances of allowing victors,
those with experience know how these people work,
those new are less likely to emerge victorious.
One animal, all dressed in black,
knows the ropes of Bridges,
nothing can fool him, watching his peer's faces,
keeps everyone at bay.
Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses,
sometimes he's here on business,
sometimes he's here for pleasure,
sometimes he's here to make a point.
Many wonder what his secret is,
is it his drink,
is it his tremendous luck,
or is it something sinister?
He is an honest creature,
despite an affinity for telling lies,
more often than not looking at those who
try to take him out of these jungles.
He's ecstatically confident,
full of disarming charm,
the bird who flew the nest,
yet he's always here.
Bridges is the name of the game,
the shuffling around him tells him,
'Nerves,' he thinks 'first-timers.'
His hands rest against the pool, confidence imminent.
So the game begins,
so his hearts and diamonds gleam red,
his clubs and spades ready to strike,
he's ready to win, to take it all home.
He travels far and wide,
on business mostly,
but he's almost always seen here,
one would say it's his natural habitat.
What do you think? Please review, I'd like to know if people liked it as it's my first time doing any James Bond fanfiction :)