Blake loved saying “blah blah blah” over the top of other people when they talked. “Blah blah blah!” he’d say, wagging his hand like a little mouth. “BLAH BLAH BLAH!” Blake was a millionaire, ran a successful business, had loads of fast cars and a massive house. ‘Yeah, bet he wasn’t truly happy though.’ Nope, you couldn’t be more wrong. He had a lovely family, lots of genuinely kind and caring friends, low blood pressure and slept incredibly well. He just also happened to be a rude, horrible bastard and life just isn’t all that fair sometimes.

© Carl Burkitt 2019

This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2019 – a poem a day celebrating an interesting US national day.

Ed Benedict didn’t mind how often his house got egged. It was to be expected, he thought. Plus, over the years he’d gotten pretty good at cleaning yolk off brick. But sliced ham and smoked salmon being posted through his letterbox, toasted English muffins getting smashed through his windows and hollandaise sauce being punched into his kids’ faces were a lot harder to get over.

© Carl Burkitt 2019

This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2019 – a poem a day celebrating an interesting US national day.