Good Dadhood … in the Library

There has been a Good Dadhood display in Cheltenham Children’s Library since Friday 16 June – ahead of Father’s Day on 18 June.

Version 2

Poems in the display are:

DIY by Carole Bromley
Nurture by Stephen Daniels  
No Stabilisers Today by Finola Scott
Daddy by Sharon Larkin 

Nurture by Stephen Daniels was previously published in Eunoia Review.

A version of  No Stabilisers Today by Finola Scott was previously published on Silver Birches, 2016

Version 4


There was also window display over the weekend, and a poster at nearby Smokey Joe’s cafe.  
Thanks to Rebecca Silence of Cheltenham Library for arranging the displays 

IMG_5130

and also to Jan (above) in the Children’s Library for her warm welcome when I turned up this morning with my camera! She enthused that it was great to have such positive poems in the Children’s Library, in celebration of Father’s Day.

Sharon

Happy Father’s Day to All Good Dads

Well we made it!

The Good Dadhood project (2017) reaches its conclusion today, Sunday 18 June  – Father’s Day – with a fine body of poems in honour of Fatherhood … by a fine body of poets.

Some stats:

Poems published: 76
Poets contributing: 41

Thank you to each one …

Kathryn Alderman
David Ashbee
Carole Bromley
Kevin Brooke
Sarah J Bryson
Helen Burke
Martyn Crucefix
Stephen Daniels
Janet Dean Knight
Annie Ellis
Jennie Farley
Angela France
Chris Hardy
Angi Holden
Tamara Jennette
Sue Johnson
Sharon Larkin
Sarah Leavesley
Mandy Macdonald
Maggie Mackay
Laura McKee
Frances March
Rufus Mufasa
Terry O’Connor
Matthew Paul
Jeff Phelps
Nicky Phillips
Mat Riches
Belinda Rimmer
Dee Russell-Thomas
Finola Scott
Rebecca Sillence
Jayne Stanton
Matthew Stewart
Carl Tomlinson
Roger Turner
Chris Willis
Bob Woodroofe
Paul Wooldridge
Aaron Wright
Dorothy Yamamoto

Photos: 14

Visitors to Good Dadhood: approx 2000

Number of views: approx 4000

Number of countries viewing: 45

Top 10 countries viewing:
UK, US, Canada, Spain, Ireland, Australia, India, China, Germany, France

—–

The Good Dadhood project has received encouraging feedback along the way, for example:

• I’ve loved Good Dadhood … both being involved and reading the many and varied contributions.

• … lovely project …. So refreshing to read celebrations of fathers and snapshots of their positive influences . An antidote to darker works where the focus is on blame and hurt.

• Thank you … for giving voice to love.

• … thank you for Good Dadhood … It’s been excellent!

—–

It’s been a pleasure … which I hope to run again 1.1.18 – 17.6.18

Meanwhile if a publisher out there would like to consider publishing the poems as an anthology, perhaps linked to a family-centred charity, please do get in touch. Or if a fellow poet with publishing experience would be willing to collaborate with me to publish a Good Dadhood Anthology 2017, please do get in touch.  I’d welcome the ‘learning experience’ but it’s not a venture I’d want to tackle single-handed.  Two parents would be great for this baby!

Thank you again to all contributors and readers of Good Dadhood.

Enjoy Father’s Day!

Sharon

 

 

 

A Poem by Belinda Rimmer

………….

img_0610-1

………

……….
Belinda Rimmer has worked as a psychiatric nurse/counsellor with troubled children; taught the creative arts in primary schools and lectured in Performance Arts. Her poems have appeared in various magazines, including, Brittle Star, Artemis, Obsessed with Pipework, Dream Catcher, The Dawntreader and Sarasvati. Some have been published on-line with Writers Against Prejudice, Ground, Open Mouse, Clear Poetry and Picaroon. Belinda also enjoys writing short stories.

Dad’s Dibber by Sharon Larkin

 

Short and squat, a man in a cap,
rolled-up shirtsleeves, old trousers
encrusted with blood and bone,
boots dusted with powdered lime.

He bends double over the latest row
marked out with stake and string
to keep it straight, wields his dibber –
really a sawn-off fork handle –

swivels it into the tidy tilth
to make a little hole for a seed potato.
Later he’ll earth up the row
to encourage growth.

I watch, asking questions ‘what, why, what for?’
in the manner of a five year old –
each answer given
after measured thought:

“It’s a fertiliser. It keeps soil sweet.
Because straight is better than crooked.
Because each one I plant needs a little nest
to encourage it to grow up strong.

Because good Dads love their children”.

 

This poem came out of a workshop at Cheltenham Poetry Society’s Annual Awayday (writing retreat) in May.  The workshop, led by David Ashbee, used wood and wooden objects as prompts.  As I was writing my poems, I remembered my father’s dibber – hence this poem.  Thanks to Dave – and Dad – for the inspiration.

 

Screen Shot 2017-06-08 at 19.06.40.png

A Poem by Kathryn Alderman

Unconditional

Just you and me, and the tchck, tchck
of your hobnails, spading
stony grey buttercream
for the patio.

I love your talk of optimal ratios —
sand, water, cement,
but it’s hard to stay rapt
when the world’s a grassy bank
with worms to scream at,
and stepping-stone ants who promise
other means of construction.

If you’d wanted a boy
you never said.
Applauded my preference
for daisy chain decoration,
yum-yummed over mud pie teas.

Later, I learned
how you layered rare elements
to buttress my shaky mettle.

Now I spade up that same blend
of unconditional
pass it back for you.

…….

…….

Kathryn Alderman was an actor on TV, Radio, Stage and Voice-over before motherhood. She won Canon Poets’ ‘Sonnet or Not’ (2012), came runner-up in Gloucestershire Writers’ Network Competitions (2012) and now co-directs the GWN competition.  Publication includes Amaryllis, Canon’s Mouth, Dear World (Frosted Fire Press, 2014), Salt on the Wind (Elephants Footprint 2015), Last Word in Art (Wilson Art Gallery/Museum 2017). Readings include: BBC Radio 4; Cheltenham Literary and Poetry Festivals; Poetry Can Bristol, Cheltenham’s Buzzwords Poetry Café; Poetry Café Refreshed and with Cheltenham Poetry Festival’s ‘Festival Players’. Kathryn and family are herded around Gloucester by enthusiastic Border collie, Isla.

A Poem by Kevin Brooke

Photograph of my Father

His side parting leans left, slightly,
balanced on the rim of glasses.
He smiles. A smile creating
pimples on his cheeks.

Pinstriped suit, lines barely visible,
in sunlight. Unlike the bright, white collar
and tie that is loosened, relaxed,
lowered into weekend leisure.

His contentment is reflected
in the image, his laugh captured
into something I can hear, all too clear
in the monochrome photo.

Buddy Holly. The Beatles too.
Sounds of my Father, the music
he played, when allowed, when
alone, but never too loud.

A camcorder rests by his side.
It rests alongside his wide
bottomed trousers. Soon, he will
take the film I’ve seen, that leans left,
ever so slightly.

……..

……….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin is a mature student at the University of Worcester. His poems are published in several local newspapers, online magazines and as a member of Worcester Writers’ Circle. When he was younger, his dad used to come home at the end of the working week, looking tired and bedraggled. Even so, it was rare to see him without a smile. Every time Kevin hears anything from the ‘Sergeant Peppers’ album or the songs of Buddy Holly, he is reminded of the crackling images in his dad’s slightly wonky, black and white camcorder films that captured his childhood.

Summer Saturdays by Nicky Phillips

Dad takes me, sitting high in his Standard Vanguard,
to market for Mum then to the hardware store he’s known
since he was a boy. He chats with the owner, buys some
small widgets, for pence, totted up with a pencil stub,
……..
to mend the leaking bath, fix a draught, complete the
guinea pig cage. I wander over worn floorboards, run
fingers through springs, magnets, wingnuts stored loose
in bins, inhale the musty scent of sawdust and machine oil.
……..
Back home, he works on his lathe in the garage while I play
with rows and rows of jam-jars containing countless nuts, bolts,
screws, washers. Dinner’s at 1: cottage pie or steak and kidney
while the smell of Mum’s baking hints at tea-time treats.
……..
Out in the garden, Dad wears his brown corduroy working
trousers, lights a bonfire, prunes roses, cuts the grass,
potters around the shed.  I look on from my swing seat on the
apple tree, ride my bike round narrow paths between rosebeds.
 ……..
Only if wet, when we have to stay indoors, am I allowed
to play the pianola.  We pump the pedals, mesmerised by keys
moving themselves, as the roll of paper, peppered with
perforations, travels on round playing In a Persian Market.
 ……..
Days of hot sun in a clear blue sky, we chatter along the
traffic-free main road to the post office, buy four choc ices,
carry back in a brown paper bag, share with bowls
and spoons on the garden bench with the others.
……..
Sometimes, I hide, think he hasn’t noticed. He finds me
tucked away down the steps of the cool, leafy air raid shelter,
peeping out on his rows of carrots, radish, beetroot, onions,
wondering whether bonfires will always smell so good.
……..
 ……..
Nicky Phillips lives and writes in rural Hertfordshire, where she’s a member of Ware Poets. Her poems have appeared in Brittle StarSouth Bank Poetry, and SOUTH; at Ink, Sweat and TearsAlgebra of OwlsThe Lake and Snakeskin; and in various anthologies. In 2016 she was long-listed in the South Bank Poetry Competition and Commended in Cannon Poets’ Sonnet or Not Competition.