Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “ Shelter From The Elements “. Seriously?

Afternoon Jon and once again, greetings from Coventry.

Heat wave over here at the moment, believe it or not. The mercury has climbed to around twenty eight sweltering degrees four days in a row, with no end in sight

Shorts, sandals and knee high socks are sprouting everywhere like mould on stale bread – I will never complain about Ed’s dress sense again.

Isn’t it strange how weather is the universal language?

What would we talk about if it wasn’t for the weather?

Enough of that, I have to toddle off and find my knee high socks, an Andy Cap and take refuge from the blistering British sun – any hotter, I’ll have to take off my thermal underwear – one set at least.

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:
[audio:JVG_Poem20130714.mp3]

Also have a listen to the songs on the New Album “Angel In Reverse


Taking shelter from the elements

The forecast, “Fine”; “Cold, but dry”: no mention of a gale
I’d dressed to keep the chill out, not Arctic winds and hail

If nothing else the squall dispersed the pall of acrid, smog
I sheltered at a bus stop, with an old man and his dog

I smiled a “How’s it going?” both perfunctory and absurd
More acknowledgement than question, though he took it at its word

He spoke for near an hour, barely taking time to breathe
As though worried, a pause, offered chance for me to leave

But I was going nowhere, not that weather gave me choice
As he detailed his life and times, in the gentlest of voice

His bitser lay there sullenly, head rested on one paw
Giving the impression she’d heard this many times before

A story, laced with tragedy, misfortune, hurt and loss
Though, if pity was his purpose, it didn’t come across

More a search for reason in the telling of his tale
He’d found the perfect setting in the lashings of the gale

Shunning hollow empathy, I sat quietly till the end
A stranger, to the lonely, no more beloved a friend

The tempest soon abated, gone as quickly as it came
I watched the old man shuffle off: the old man with no name

Sorrow shared finds comfort: alone it brings despair
A storm unleashes havoc but at least it clears the air

© Copyright 2013 Ian Bland

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