Poems by Spike Milligan | Poetree

All Poems Original Poems Translations

« ‹ 1 2 3 4 5 › »

Halved

Halved

The essence of true beauty

Lingers in all-encompassing rainbows

Of your joy and laughter

You hold my hand and smile

As we ensconce ourselves in our world of fire

Our love is all there is

I touch your face

Your gentleness astounds me

0

0

Orstralia

Orstralia

Orstralia – Orstralia

We think of you each day

Orstralia – Orstralia

At work or at play.

We think of yew in the morning

And in the evening too

We even wake up at mid-night

So that we can think of you.

0

0

Indian Boyhood

Indian Boyhood

What happened to the boy I was?

Why did he run away?

And leave me old and thinking, like

There'd been no yesterday?

What happened then?

Was I that boy?

Who laughed and swam in the bund*

Is there no going back?

0

0

Pussy-cat

Pussy-cat

Pussy-cat

What are vices?

Catching rats

And eating mices!

0

0

Teeth

Teeth

English Teeth, English Teeth!

Shining in the sun

A part of British heritage

Aye, each and every one.

English Teeth, Happy Teeth!

Always having fun

Clamping down on bits of fish

And sausages half done.

0

0

Two Children

Two Children

Two children (small), one Four, one Five,

Once saw a bee go in a hive,

They'd never seen a bee before!

So waited there to see some more.

And sure enough along they came

A dozen bees (and all the same!)

Within the hive they buzzed about;

Then, one by one, they all flew out.

0

0

Letters

Letters

I was thinking of letters,

We all have a lot in our life

A few good - a few sad

But mostly run of the mill-

I suppose that's my fault

For writing to run of the mill people.

I've never had a letter

I really wanted

0

0

Bump

Bump

Things that go 'bump' in the night

Should not really give one a fright.

It's the hole in each ear

That lets in the fear,

That, and the absence of light!

0

0

Porridge

Porridge

Why is there no monument

To Porridge in our land?

If it's good enough to eat,

It's good enough to stand!

On a plinth in London

A statue we should see

Of Porridge made in Scotland

Signed, "Oatmeal, O.B.E."

0

0

Me

Born screaming small into this world-

Living I am.

Occupational

therapy twixt birth and death-

What was I before?

What will I be next?

What am I now?

Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind

0

0

My Sister Laura

My Sister Laura

My sister Laura's bigger than me

And lifts me up quite easily.

I can't lift her, I've tried and tried;

She must have something heavy inside.

2

0

The Soldiers At Lauro

The Soldiers At Lauro

Young are our dead

Like babies they lie

The wombs they blest once

Not healed dry

And yet - too soon

Into each space

A cold earth falls

On colder face.

0

0