Long ago in the times of unspoiled yore,
in a world not too bore,
there lived three men in a morain mass,
wielding a striking witty class,
so blabber their envious peers,
there they come; "The three musketeers".

The first was the oldest,
but also the boldest,
his weapon; a mean gigantic knife,
useless only against his buxom wife,
Walking with a bulky rumble,
the vegetables quake and tremble.
The meats battered to batter,
the potatoes bearing the shatter.
The tempting smells succeeding the savage blows,
the dishes produced; masked in endless glows.
As the exotic smell lingers,
the poor guests soon lose their fingers.

The second was the sweetest,
and most certainly also the cutest.
Famous from mile to mile,
was his quaint cheshire cat smile.
As the distant wedding bells peal merrily,
the plump little hands; the aged worldly eyes,
gobble his coloured pastries hungrily.

For the third; cutlery was the pride,
glittering like a newly wed bride.
Serving in such acrobatic fashions,
the cute lasses soon turn the motel,
into a hot bed of passions.

Though it is too hard to tell,
they mask their sorrows quite well.
The party chimes bon! bon! bon!,
the show must go on.

Tweet

Comments on this poem/writing:

Click here to read other Poems by Ravie

Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com  so the proper person may be notified.