Bland On Bland – Saints

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

Another show phoned in. The format this year is really giving us a bit of time to play with how the poems are presented.

Turns out JVG is revisiting old themes, we last looked at “Saints” back in mid 2012.

Still, it’s been a decade lets see what’s changed…

Ed Bates provided the musical backing.
Thatch provided the audio production, have a listen to how it went below…

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

Saints

My Uncle Dave was never subtle
It’s fair to say that much
In fact a bull loose in a china shop
Had more delicate a touch

When he was picked up by St Kilda
The family swelled with pride
They finally had a Saint
A title not quite justified

Now, I loved my Uncle Dave
And no insult is intended
Played thirty six games with the Saints
Plus fourteen weeks suspended

The league has never acknowledged
The contribution David made
The record number of games suspended
Relative to the number played

For a ruckman he was fast
With a temper just as quick
He got four for decking “Chooka” Howell
Eight, for Laurie Icke

In those days sledging knew no bounds
Any filth they chose to spout
Uncle Dave never bought into that
He’d just knock them out

Another quiet achievement
The history books omit
Uncle David outlived
Every player that he hit

“The dumbest player ever”
Or so Jack Dyer reckoned
Cause Dave, like Jack himself
Hit first, asked questions second

Dave’s life had its ups and downs
His health began to fail
Dementia slowly claimed him
He slid behind the veil

Though it dulled his memory
And the past grew ever dim
He didn’t forget the Saints
And they didn’t forget about him

To all their former players
Who had worn red, white and black
They presented each a guernsey
Their old number on the back

That deed deserves acknowledgement
Even from this traitor
Those small, respectful, gestures
Make a great game even greater

Whatever life could dish up
Dave took it on the chin
He’ll be flying high above the pack
When the Saints go marching in

Somewhere in the ether
He waits with all his peers
Hope they’re in no hurry
Could take ten thousand years

© Copyright 2021 Ian Bland


Also have a listen to “Everything or Nothing

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