Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

The theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “ Shivering “.

Back in Coventry this week and not long to go before I’m heading back to dear old Melbourne and really looking forward to getting back into RRR each Sunday at 2pm and not 5am as it is here in the UK.

I’m running around this week catching as much local music as I can while I can, Emma McGann, Kristy Gallacher, Mason Le Long, Sarah Bennett – names to look out for.
Some really talented young performers and a few old ones too, of course – How is Ed?

Autumn’s only a couple of days old here but already there’s plenty of sting in the tail and not for the first tome this week I’m “shivering” – Sounds like a dance doesn’t it!

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:
[audio:JVG_Poem20110904.mp3]

Also have a listen to the tracks on the new EP “Once We Were Kings Of The World


Shivering

Even wearing a fleece I’m shivering; There’s a chill in the air today
Almost a week left of summer – well, officially anyway

I stand atop the cathedral spire, over seven hundred years old
One hundred and eighty one steps, all counted, yet even my sweat runs cold

I gaze down into the ruins; Walls remain – little more
Destroyed, like much of this city, during the Second World War

Air raids, targeting industry, designed to cripple production
Despite mass devastation, couldn’t bring about their destruction

Bombs, intended for factories, the results not always precise
As always in war, civilians pay more than their share of the price

From the spire I look to the suburbs, no factories obstructing the view
Economic rationalisation achieved what the blitz failed to do

Aircraft, auto, heavy machinery, trades this town pioneered
Thousands of workers forced onto welfare, entire generations cashiered

Triumph, Jaguar, Massey Ferguson, Rover, Daimler, all gone
Factories levelled by the stroke of a pen, that couldn’t be felled by a bomb

Fortune rides on the back of the bold, who fear neither progress nor fate
The future holds what the present imagines, what this city dares to create

I’m shivering still, as I scan the horizon, the air not lacking in bite
Perhaps it’s the wind, the history, the view or perhaps I just don’t like the height

© Copyright 2011 Ian Bland

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