Poem By Jerry Pike

There were no free gifts in the Cornflakes today,
and what happened to little blue bags,
where are the tea cards and Green Shield stamps,
what happened to sweet ciggy fags.
Who stole my Jubblies of triangle ice,
give me some apple tarts please,
Old English Spangles I didn’t like much,
and Twizzles fell out down yer knees.
Tiger tails dangling on silly thin string,
Choppers and Moltons and skates
Wayfarer shoes with a compass inside,
rabbit paw prints on your mates.
Sandwiches pressed flat with margarine spread,
cheese in three flavours, can’t cheat,
football boots winding around and around,
shirts without adverts or heat.
Bri-nylon drip dry that stuck to your skin,
setting off nuclear sparks,
standing on platforms for journeys by bus,
George knock and run, just for barks.
Civil war gum cards, with death painted clean,
Flick cards of Batman, and cars,
thrown to the playground, occasionally raced,
bumps for yer birthday, with scars.
Orangeade, cherryade, lemonade, coke,
likem em or lump em, no choice,
newspaper chip shops with crackling free,
Bazooka Joe tattooed your voice.
Plimsoles with thin soles and jumpers that shrunk,
Swimming baths iced for delight,
Shoe shops with x-rays and bubble gum stands,
Policeman that walked through the night.
Kiwi crown polish that shone over scuffs,
cap guns that ruled with a bang,
skipping rope challenges, Sindy joined in,
Action man leading the gang.
Dripping on white bread, and drooling on hols,
warfare meant small plastic men,
where are those pastimes, and pleasures of old,
I think I shall read this again.

Comments about Jubblies

Yes the trinkets and cards we so fondly saved... now they have to be computer games... So simple a things are gone... what do the children do now? Alison

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Other poems of PIKE

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A Life In The Day

Up before the pride sets in, darkness crawls and twists,
devils of the mind erupt, bind you by the wrists.

And I Won'T Cry

And I Won’t Cry

So what do you want to know?
I don’t know where I’m going,

Byron's Eyes

Come stand here, by the Peachey stone, atop this screaming hill,
enchant yourself in memories, imbibe yourself in thrill,

A Late Bird

A late bird, your song flutters, heart to heart.
I see notes hanging from telephone wires,
then falling softly into the deep grass.
And I lay there, staring out of this world,


The seagulls caught me,
counting my curses
like a dead man,
talking in mental replies

And I Will Whisper

And I will whisper in your ear,
most any wish you’d like to hear,