Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse with his side kick Ernest Penfold, the nerdy hamster,
The per defeat their arch enemy Baron Silas Von Greenback,
Week after week, Danger Mouse and Ernest Penfold save the world,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all.

It stayed with her forever,
The faded **** in her skin.
A permanent reminder
Of courageous origin.

Welsh suburbia,
The week’s paper nestled at doorsteps
And cars lining driveways.
The sloped street dared
Every child to climb
Onto their bike and conquer.

She avoided it when shaving
As though an accidental cut
Would pollute
Childhood's lustre.

No stabilisers. Wicked.
The street’s children envied her.
A goddess of danger.
They all lined up on the day,
To see their idol
Dominate the asphalt *****.

Imagination made it prickle
In board meetings and cafes.
Time marched on
And the sensation with it.

Parents peered
Out their front doors.
Grandad stood vigilant
Fighting a smile.
The silence before calamity…
…and the forward push.

The scar sat beneath her shin,
Short from a distance but
Taller the closer
You came.

Whoosh. Down she went
Gulping the air and
Smiling like a belle.
Children blurred as she passed,
Everything became a haze
And she hollered.

It prickled
At Grandad’s funeral last year.
That made her fight a smile,
And she eventually succumbed.

Euphoria blinded her
To the oncoming curb.
The bike lurched, and
Heaved her off.
Pain echoed through naïve bones
Radiating beneath her shin.

Her husband asked about it.
'I fell off my bike as a girl.'
Her children asked about it.
'I fought a dragon.'

Grandad appeared instantly,
Deft hands wrapping
Gauze around a cut.
With an affectionate ruffle,
He pulled her up onto his shoulder
And carried her back.
When she cried in pain,
He pulled her closer.

Matchsticks
And a little wind

Are

Hearsay
And the coming blasphemy

By the numbers

The sign says
"Open for Business"

Opinions are mixed

As are the numbers

Let's give the world a spin now and see what burns

I heard about the sloop John B.
When I was fourteen.
I had learned to sail in a storm
And the story gave me daring,
Although I had lost control,
Tightening the sail
Instead of letting it out
In a sudden gale.
And just in time, a boat passed
With a man who shouted,
“Loosen the main sheet!”
As the boat heeled to starboard,
And I nearly capsized.
But discovered a fair wind
And the ease of a beam reach.
So my first time was the worst,
And best…
But adrenaline fueled desire,
To do this again and again!

Here I wait resting on the door jamb
standing betwixt and between
shall I stay here or drop my hand,
move beyond what I’ve known and seen?
What will be out there to my left and right
where will the next step take me from here?
They said danger is there out of my sight -
threats, jinxes, and disease if that step I dare.

But if I move back into the shady cool
I’ll be safe in this cozy inner space.
Being in between without old rules
not knowing the beyond I’ll face
is scary but this is a journey of revelation
even if sacrifice and loss is in this race
I trust I will find peace and inspiration.