June 2, 2019 | Ian Bland | 1 Comment The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Maggie“. A great theme this week, although I confess I struggled to get started with it. Once I had the idea though it all seemed to come together. Thanks for the kind comments to those that rang during the show. Always great to get feedback JVG and I chatted about music choices and the great Scottish blues vocalist Maggie Bell amongst other things. No Ed this week, still recovering from his trip to Mexico, he will be back soon Have a listen to how it went below… To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below: https://ianbland.com.au/audio/JVG_Poem20190602.mp3 Maggie Maggie was a sweetheart; she was unlike other dogs A loner from her first breath till the day she popped her clogs Didn’t like her back scratched; wouldn’t beg, not for a bone Though tolerant of people, she preferred to live alone A generic indifference and her own kind weren’t exempt The customary sniff, then a glance that oozed contempt Designer dogs especially, she detested with a passion Expensive, inbred mutants, engineered to suit the fashion Maggie was purebred mongrel; bit of this and bit of that Nothing got her worked up; wouldn’t even chase the cat Never one to bark, she found other ways to talk She’d go and grab her lead when keen to have a walk As for chasing sticks, you’d know by the look she gave “You threw it, you get it; I’m not your bloody slave” Seemed disinterested in most things; even with her food Wouldn’t move to save herself if she wasn’t in the mood She was smarter than most dogs; didn’t miss a trick Could tell what you were thinking; knew when you were sick Looked you in eye and with a slight tilt of her head Silently trot in and curl up beside you on the bed Twigged when you were on the mend and quietly buggered off Headed back to her blanket in the laundry by the trough Finally, at sixteen, she could barely stand up straight Joints riddled with arthritis, legs that couldn’t take her weight Her eyes retained the independence with her since a pup When Maggie let me pat her I knew she’d given up I think she realised her time had come, even before us She left this world on her terms, as always, without fuss I didn’t hear a whimper; not the slightest warning I discovered her behind the couch when I rose next morning She’s buried in the backyard; I believe, the perfect place Right up in the corner: Maggie always liked her space A carton for a coffin complete with soundproof lining ‘Cause the neighbours bought a Spoodle and the bastard won’t stop whining © Copyright 2019 Ian Bland Also have a listen to “Everything or Nothing” <a href=”http://music.ianbland.com.au/album/everything-and-nothing”>Everything And Nothing by Ian Bland</a> Share this:TweetEmailMoreTelegram