A poem for Fathers' Day

At one stage I didn't think that Daniel would still be alive for Father's Day so I decided to use an idea from the Caroline Bird workshop on the BBC Poetry Season website to write a poem for Fathers' Day. I asked Maya and Ruby what their favourite things were, what made them feel happy and used their words to create a poem that would show Daniel how happy they (and I) were that he was home with us - safe. Alive.

Once I made a note of all the elements of the poem I jigged it about a bit to come up with the order but all the words are their own. I asked Maya what the poem should be called when it was finished and she came up with...

The Superfantastic Word Gallery

Like going to Coraline, playgroup or France!

Or to the swimming baths in a pink bikini.

Squirty cream and strawberries,

chocolate buttons and chocolate fudge.

Charlie and Lola,

Boomerang and Scooby Doo.

Spooky ghost trains, fun time,

playing Trash! and tickling.

Ready brek or raspberries,

prawn sushi with soy sauce.

Pulling crackers at Christmas time,

and happy birthday for Ruby.

Eating ice-cream on really hot, summer days,

bees flying in the garden.

Art books and Studio Ghibli animations,

drawing on weekend mornings.

Black and white and pink and red,

playing at Grandpa and Grannies house.

Daddy is; cuddles, love, music.

How've you been?

I was at the Cumberland Arms last night for the BBC poetry slam. I (sort of) really enjoyed the night but found it a little difficult to really get into the vibe. If I hadn't gone on my own - as I usually do to these things - it might have been a little easier. The main problem was how to answer the question "So, how've you been?" or what to say when someone says "You're looking really well" when the last three weeks have been hell and you're looking at weeks, months before you start to feel safe again. Does anyone really want to hear anything other than "great"? I decided to stay in my seat for the second interval.

The poets that really stuck in my mind were Scott Tyrrell (of course), Radikal Queen, Alfie Crow and Ross Sutherland... I'm very tempted to try my own univocalic poem though I'm not sure that it would be quite as accomplished as Ross' first round poem. Radikal Queen's style reminded me of Jill Scott, rhythmic, soulful. I was impressed by her delivery and slightly jealous of the fact that she seems to be the sort of spoken word artist I'd like to be... but my identity as a Black Briton has always been at odds with the perceived notion of black cultural identity, I'd feel like a fake if I attempted it. I thought Alfie's decisions to go with a gutsy, subversive use of nursery rhyme forms to create a jarring, disturbing view of "broken Britain" probably cost him the competition but in my view he deserved to be in the top two.

I wonder if karma was at work during the evening... Ross Sutherland was denied the second place spot by (I think) 0.1 of a point. During the first interval there was a queue at the bar, I waited patiently to get my two Fentiman's (a ginger beer and a victorian lemonade) and just before I got to the front said poet swaggered in front, seemingly oblivious to the queue, and got promptly served... Of course, I said nothing... to be honest I couldn't be bothered to be bothered.

When I got home I peered through a gap in the curtain to watch Daniel before I went in. He was sitting in his chair smiling and looking to his left talking to his "Dannysitter" Gayle. He looked almost the same as before in the sitting room light. Like nothing had ever happened and this was any night.