Bland On Bland – The BookThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “ Flames “.

Back to the neighborhood this week. JVG rang up and told me the theme and this literally jumped straight on to the page. Didn’t require much finessing at all.

And one day, I must remember to tell the story about “Pig”, some Redheads and the footy stand… must illuminating. They say it lit up the sky for miles. But, as I said, that’s for another day.

I had to dash off to Union Hotel for a gig with the “Lamo’s”, thanks to everyone who was able to come along. The band and I had a great gig. I believe that we will be back there soon.

Ed once again supplied the brilliant backing. Have a listen to how it went below…

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

Flames

They sat around the barbecue, the mood, at best, was bleak
‘Rabbit’ tried to cheer things up, no-one else would speak

Tensions rose the more he tried, and the mood went further south
‘Squirrel’ had to reel him in; “Rabbit, shut your mouth”

His crime, said Mrs Chaplee, was at the top end of the scale
‘Rabbit’ setting fire to her prized bantam’s tail

They were banned from using matches thanks to ‘Rabbit’s’ indiscretion
All of them were punished, for one person’s transgression

Forced to wait for Mrs Chaplee to come out and light the fire
It would be a while till ‘Rabbit’ dug himself out of this mire

Surrendering his Redheads, ‘Pig’ found more than grating
“The indignity” he whined was ‘de-masculating’

He argued it amounted to unlawful persecution
The right to carry matches surely in the constitution

The effectiveness of sanctions fundamentally unsound
Besides it was three years since they’d torched the footy ground

“It was an accident” ‘Rabbit’ tried convincing ‘Spanner’s’ mum
“I mean it’s winter, I was only trying to warm the poor chooks bum”

“You were going to cook it anyway” ‘Rabbit’ gamely pled
“If I had” snarled Mrs Chaplee “I’d have first made sure it’s dead”

‘Pig’ was more creative, claimed that’s how bantams mated
Once the deed was done the rooster self-immolated

Mrs Chaplee suggested ‘Pig’ might like to try again
Cause the rooster in question was actually a hen

As usual, the truth, was somewhat harder to discern
‘Rabbit’ had read somewhere that feathers didn’t burn

Despite a small flame which soon dies, more accurately they melt
Like the stench of burning hair mixed with sodden underfelt

A thirst for scientific knowledge is a trait to be admired
Though due care and procedure as well as passion are required

It never occurred to ‘Rabbit’ the chook would catch alight
So convinced was he that feathers don’t ignite

The chook, incurred no injury I’m very pleased to say
Aside from damage to its pride it lived to roast another day

As always, cloaked in rhyme, there’s a lesson to be learnt
Those who play with matches sometimes end up getting burnt

Though ‘Rabbit”, found another lesson buried in this farce
Before you light the feather pluck it from the bantam’s arse

© Copyright 2017 Ian Bland


Also have a listen to the songs on my new album “Everything or Nothing

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