Treasure Island

Spike Milligan

(16 April 1918 – 27 February 2002 / Ahmednagar)

Unto Us...


Somewhere at some time
They committed themselves to me
And so, I was!
Small, but I WAS!
Tiny, in shape
Lusting to live
I hung in my pulsing cave.
Soon they knew of me
My mother --my father.
I had no say in my being
I lived on trust
And love
Tho' I couldn't think
Each part of me was saying
A silent 'Wait for me
I will bring you love!'
I was taken
Blind, naked, defenseless
By the hand of one
Whose good name
Was graven on a brass plate
in Wimpole Street,
and dropped on the sterile floor
of a foot operated plastic waste
bucket.
There was no Queens Counsel
To take my brief.
The cot I might have warmed
Stood in Harrod's shop window.
When my passing was told
My father smiled.
No grief filled my empty space.
My death was celebrated
With tickets to see Danny la Rue
Who was pretending to be a woman
Like my mother was.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Eve O'farrell (8/13/2009 3:15:00 PM)

    I read this poem at school too many years ago and have been unable to find it until now.
    I love it and its so moving- (Report) Reply

  • Libby A (4/25/2008 12:16:00 AM)

    We briefly looked at this poem in English a few weeks ago, and I love it. It's such an interesting and original poem. It's heartwrenching, but still amazing. (Report) Reply

  • Marie Peat (7/16/2007 3:32:00 PM)

    This is one of the poems i had to study in English at school, now, all these years later, reading it as a 32 year old mother of 3, i didn't even get to the end before the tears came. It's one of the saddest poems ever written, and by one of the funniest men too, who would have thought he could be so sensitive? (Report) Reply

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