A Spikeful Poem

 

Celebrating the genius of
Spike Milligan

Enlisted by coincidence

Expectations running high

To struggle up the hefty hours

Lacking natural reasons why

I take this journey often

As things go it is a must

Avoiding it on rainy days

Should they turn me into rust

If you see me at the other end

Let's pretend we never met

Then once again we’ll go there twice

Though we’ve never been there yet

Wikipedia: "When the Commonwealth Immigrants Act removed Indian-born Milligan's automatic right to British citizenship in 1962,^[4] he became an Irish citizen,^[1] exercising a right conferred through his Irish-born father."

Gut Feeling

 

 I’m eco-systematic 

A plastic kind of guy

In a universe of galaxies

My amazing ways go by

I’m Never who I think I am

Though I project a human graph

Balancing my probabilities

Saturated by my staff

I’m a shimmering cooperative

More than a trillion, billion parts

Within a plot of thrilling substances

I‘m sometimes me in fits and starts

I’m impossible bewildering

Remotely driven all at sea

In oceanic vastness

Paradoxically I'm me

Have a listen to this BBC link and prepare to be startled

On Balance

 

Led by the nose discovering

Circumstances and positions

Based on acts becoming facts

Inciting absolute decisions

A one way or another path

Where loss and gain resides

Either way is neither way

When what it is abides

If when looking back regretfully

One senses something missing

The way you were is so long gone

In faded frames of reminiscing

Good Morning

 

Listen to the quietness

Apart from rattles creaks and knocks

It seems the house is wide-awake

In our nestled restful box

The kettle growls to boiling point

A soft shoe shuffling kitchen skip

To the instant sound of granules

Sipping coffee smacks my lip

Daytime noise moves urgently

Muffled heads not speaking yet

Sighs and huff-puff mumbling
Mum is breakfast ready yet?

And Then Some

 

Teardrop falling mornings

Speak memories with care

Recalling all the loving times

Joyful summer days we’d share

Times we laughed and cried together

Days that whiled away the hours

Songs that sang those special words

When we danced like summer flowers

Final pages in our goodbye book

Holding hands with loves farewell

Remembered on those quiet nights

So many stories to retell 

Naught More or Less

Zero is a silent guy 
Either way, it sits and waits 
To increase or decrease by ten 
Invisible on plates

'Favourite number' is the weirdest thing 
How some will hope that luck will bring 
But numbers each and every one 
Decrease, increase but not for fun