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

A great choice of topic this week, and it set the scene for a great show. Jon was in fine form if you didn’t hear it head over to the 3RRR Radio On Demand and have a listen.

Dan’s Warner Corner will take some topping and it comes on the heel of a couple of great renditions of some wonderful songs, again head over to his sit and have a listen.

I was short of time and in one of those perverse ironies of the universe – the less time you have the longer the poem. Go figure.


Ed Bates provided the guitar backing, have a listen to how it went below…

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

Things Left Behind

Len Adams was a miser; preoccupied with wealth
Money ranked superior to family and health

He spent as little as he could on luxuries like eating
He’d rather freeze than God forbid, waste a cent on heating

Frugality his downfall, struck down by a chill
Couldn’t bear to leave his money so he hadn’t made a will

He lay there in the hospital, struggling for breath
The doctors confided he was hours away from death

“You can’t take it with you” Len’s solicitor advised
The thought of parting with his riches, a concept Len despised

“Once you’re dead, you lose it” his lawyer Rupert stressed
Your son will claim it through the courts once you’re laid to rest”

“Be damned” Len wheezed “if anyone will lay claim to my bread
That loot belongs to me, you hear? Even when I’m dead

“It’s mine” he rasped “mine, all mine; everything I’ve got
Before some bastard gets it, I’d rather burn the lot”

His breathing, fast and laboured, he knew the end was near
A smile consumed his twisted face; sparked by an idea

He whispered to his lawyer, his voice both faint and course
“Take everything I own and put it on a horse”

“What horse?” Rupert quizzed, thinking Len had flipped
“Just pick a nag that has no chance and bet the lot” Len quipped

“But you’ll lose” said Rupert “everything; the whole lot down the loo”
“Exactly, you idiot; that’s what I’m trying to do”

“Quickly” panted Len “make the call, there’s not much time”
Rupert rang Len’s bookie and put it all on number nine

“Who’d believe” grinned Len “dying could be so much fun”
Till Rupert came back ashen faced – number nine had won

“Well roll it over you imbecile” Rupert went for number ten
Fifty to one and only had three legs: alas Rupert won again

“Spread it around you dunderhead: you lawyers are so much trouble”
Two horses both at a hundred this time; Rupert managed the double

“I pay for expertise” Len fumed “and you handle it like a beginner
The last request of a dying man and you turn out to be a winner

“Dying or not” Rupert huffed “careful who you abuse
You’re the first client I’ve ever had who wants their lawyer to lose”

“One last chance” gasped Len “or I’ll haunt you all your days”
Rupert checked the form guide and plumped for Arctic Blaze”

Halfway through the race, Len gave a little cough
Closed his eyes, one final breath and gently drifted off

He woke up, bathed in light: Was it heaven? Was it hell?
A voice spoke through the ether, from where he couldn’t tell

“Mr Adams, welcome back; you gave us all a fright
It’s a miracle” the doctor chirped “you’re going to be alright”

“You mean I’m going to live?” gasped Len “I’m not about to croak?”
Then he thought of Arctic Blaze and nearly had a stroke

If it won he was a billionaire; if it lost then Len was screwed
“Get my lawyer” shouted Len “or this hospital gets sued”

“It won” said Rupert beaming “it was first across the line”
Len smirked “Then I’m rich and all of it is mine”

“It won” continued Rupert “by the length of the straight
Then it was disqualified, it came in underweight”

Now Len lives at his son’s house, in the backyard, in a tent
He’s allowed inside for meals; he cleans the house in lieu of rent

Rupert gave up law, found it too much of a bind
Makes his living as a punter; some things you never leave behind

© Copyright 2018 Ian Bland


Also have a listen to “Everything or Nothing

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