Fonetic – a poem

So, it was National Poetry Day yesterday, and I turn up fashionably a day too late.  Here is a poem I wrote for my daughter 15 years ago.



My dawter rites foneticly and I can see

the words and sentenses forming inside her

brewing then bersting onto paje

without ful stop or commer

with curly ys and pictures of


capitals There in the middle

and names in lower case


It’s how she thinks it is

But not how she will learn it must be


My language is trussed down

Pushed into different sized tupper-ware

And kept in cold storage like yesterday’s dinner

I break a nail opening the lids

And try to mix the apple pie

With the mashed potato

To come up with a half decent

Plate of words


Not surprising then

She turns her nose up at them