The Three Musketeers (poem)

[DanaC]

As some of you will be aware I am currently chasing mad deadlines at the end of my degree. So, obviously, instead of cracking on with my dissertation this morning, I found myself instead wandering around the house with a poem forming in my head :P

So...I elected to exorcise that little distraction by writing it down. I am now off to do some real work. See what you think.

This is for mum and mart. Two of the three *smiles*


The Three Musketeers
The Three Musketeers, with their two trusty hounds,
Jumped into the car and sped into the night.
And the windows, still frosted, took moments to clear,
as the car nosed its way through the streets and the lanes.

And the Three Musketeers, sang stories of fear,
And the trembling and shake of the beasts that drew near
And the dogs looked uneasy, at a dark shape ahead,
So the Three Musketeers drew their swords and prepared.

But the shape was unmoving; just static and glowering,
The dogs grew more frightened, their growls growing louder
And the first Musketeer said ‘you know we must get out;
It could be a person, or a beast that’s been injured.

Or an alien visitor crashed by the wayside’ and saying this,
Swift and decisive, she opened the cardoor, and slipped out to see it.
But just as she did so, she glanced back beside her,
And told her co-pilot, ‘look after your sister.’

The second Musketeer, with a flurry of motion,
Followed the first and approached the still roadblock
But the third Musketeer, stayed behind with the hound dogs,
Their tails all aquiver, their throats filled with growling.

A shout from the dark road, a yell and some laughter,
The shape, just the air-billowed round of a bin-bag
The two Musketeers clicked the clasps of their seatbelts
and smiled at the third as they whooshed down the night lane.

And all of the stories they told of their journeys,
Come back down the years when the night sky is calling,
The Three Musketeers, with the two matching hound dogs
Off on their wild rides and night time adventures.

[DanaC]

A word of explanation for the above poem. *smiles* Now I've knocked the Dissertation on the head for the night.

Me, Mum and my big brother used to go off in the car at night, sometimes. Alien hunting, or ghost watching. Or just looking for places that look good in the night time...like Winter Hill, or Rivington Pike, or the narrow winding lanes round Barrow Bridge. Dad was a night worker, and over the years was becoming a little reclusive, so a lot of the time, it was me, Mum and Martin against the world. We'd do mad shit together, doing things late at night, when we should have been sleeping. *grins*. Probably partly inspired by having an insomniac child in the mix. Mum and Martin were like co-conspirators. I was the baby.

We had some fun. The two hound dogs by the way were little white westies. And the car was the most battered looking mini clubman estate...I swear it had gardens of moss growing in the window trims. Window gardens.