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June 7, 2011

It doesn’t actually seem that long ago that it was Mother’s Day, or even Christmas, but here it is! That time of year when we struggle to decide whether it’s another sweater or a pair of socks to show dad that we love him.

Well, STOP. Get him something a bit more original this year…

We are offering THREE 12″x8″ and a family portrait sitting (for up to 6 people) for £50 instead of the usual £75. But hurry; you must order your Fathers Day Gift Voucher no later than 14th June 2011.

A man who is a poet

Chris Fosten - a past client and a poet!

Some things I wish you’d write in my Father’s Day cards…

I promise, and solemnly swear,

to listen very hard to each word from you,

even if it looks like I have something better to do

or want to know when I can play Buckaroo.

 To tell you when I try but still miss the loo

or decide it is best to use all the shampoo

to wash mud from my hair,

my dog, my hands and feet too.

To do what you say and not what you do

especially when it looks cool,

but might lose me my front two

teeth (because it’s probably dangerous).


That I will not laugh at all when you

get hurt, but I will at your jokes

and that when I grow up I do

not want to be a teenager.

That I will just get a job to

keep you supplied in tea.


and some things you probably will write in my Father’s Day cards…

Elephants are explosive if you

superglue them to windows,

policemen love it when you call them

by tugging on their nose.


Earthquakes are restless houses

just moving in the wind,

and thunder is no storm approaching

but just Jesus pushing his chair in.


He’s not as far away as you think, by the way,

ever since he moved to Peterborough –

he did once live near Norwich but

moved to make sure he was nearer his mother.


Monkeys smoke pipes when solving great crimes,

chipmunks wear glasses when reading the paper,

bats have a pilot that sits on their head,

and moles see their tunnels using their lasers.


You know, trees all have faces

and they chat all night long,

but only if the squirrels don’t mind

and all the people have gone.

The man behind the poem….Chris Fosten…

These days, as someone who writes in his spare time, I write a lot of different things.  Or more accurately, I start writing a lot of things.  Some of them I finish, a lot I don’t.  From memory, around the house I have at least two part-finished stageplay scripts, a radio play or two, at least one almost-complete children’s book and dozens of poems that I either am not happy with or want to edit.  I’m sure everyone who’s tried to be a writer but needs to keep working full time will agree that one of the most difficult things is fitting in the time to really devote yourself.

But I started writing for release – I hated the idea of being depressed, so looked for ways of getting that out of me, and writing poems seemed a natural way of doing it.  This meant, naturally, that I wrote an awful lot of horrible, typically angsty teenage poems… you know, the kinds that wail and gnash teeth about how unfair the world is when you’re middle class and don’t have that much to be upset about. 

In the end, I began to pay attention to what I wrote – and write about happier things, without thinking that I was doing something very serious and important.  It was still a release, but a happy one, an interesting way of expressing thoughts.  So now, quite often I write for and about my son, Luke.  He’s 5, and laughs at all the things you’d expect 5 year old boys to laugh at (and a lot of things in one half of the poem is repeating what he’s said to me at various times – I’ll let you guess which one…!).

I also write and record poems and sketches for a sci-fi podcast (, and two of my poems recently appeared in a zine called “Little Epic” which might still be available here: but the last I heard, stocks were low…

Webpages of Interest:


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