Are you ready to witness and turn the key, for we are about to glee,
Allow your pupils to let you see, a real man of mystery.
He has crickle cracked skin, and hair slap dashed back,
Simmered red hot tiles, crawled til flesh turned black,
Running down the evil, criminal bent few,
Has a triple sky high, birds eye view.
He secretly caught, the Royal Jack the Ripper,
Princesses thanked him, kisses down trouser zipper.
Always bow tied, clipped chin for the mighty,
Piss alley soaked, wet poor for beggar plighty.
Dark eyed, crooked nose, rugged and black browed,
He slips nip creep crept, like smoke, through many a big crowd.
Simple acts he creates, wonder papers high front page views,
Always fighting crime, for the rights of an oppressed few.
Is he merely just a normal man, short or grandstand?
Truth surprise, alas, but no army sits under his command.
So is he shed hedge bunk or huge mansion slept?
Could it be, one of the cleverest secrets ever kept?
Are you ready, to hunt down, thinly kept whispers of a man unseen?
Following cold alley damp dank info, like a soldiers latrine.
But if you find a clue, follow the thread, pull and strike prey,
Might just find a good man, ready to save your day.
If you're ever stuck, nicked, nuck rucked, or ever miss viewed,
He'll fight might, all right til peeps are unconfused.
He'll never bow down, cry, accuse or even plea,
Cos he's a true stories hero, a real man of mystery.
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
This won The Creative Writing Groups bi-monthly Competition for Best Poem Jan/Feb 2024.
