where our roundabouts are magic
and James Bond runs across Motorola.
Our lot don’t put up with David Brent
and Disneyland Paris was our twin.
Melinda is our messenger,
Billie is our piper,
Diana is our Dors.
Steam runs through our train track veins,
our sky is poured concrete:
durable, hardworking and present.
No matter how big your smile is
you will be asked Alright?
Yeah fine, you?
Yeah, you?
Welcome to Pig Town.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: You’ve just received a letter from the Mayor of your home town saying they are set to host The Olympics / The World Cup / Crufts / Great British Bake Off (you choose the competition).
Game 2: The Mayor has asked you to write a poem absolutely bigging up your home town for the opening ceremony. They’re keen on highlighting the great bits but also putting a positive spin on any negative / grubby bits.
I promise to be alive
in your curious way.
I will put burgers in hot cross buns.
I will watch TV shows about yachts.
I will drink Ribena in the morning.
I will stand at the window a 3am
peering through the blinds with you
when strangers are gossiping outside.
I promise to stand in the sun sometimes
and pretend to be a gorilla
and take a joke
and moan when I’m annoyed
and feel lost
and struggle to get out of bed sometimes.
I promise to be alive.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Imagine you are on the reality TV show Married At First Sight. It’s the night before your wedding with someone you’ve never met.
Game 2: Spend 10 minutes writing your wedding vows for a total stranger. Consider: What kind of partner do you promise to be? How will you act? What do you wish for you both? Why are you doing this? Etc.
is a door
and another door
and another door
and another door
and a hallway
to a room
filled with doors
and walls
and windows
and a floor
and a future
that could go
either way.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Google image search ‘Front doors’.
Game 2: Pick a door you like (or dislike).
Game 3: Take 8 minutes to write a poem about what goes on behind that door.
Written using sentences found by searching for ‘face’ in my WhatsApp search bar.
Now that is what I call a face.
Such a great face in that photo.
He looked at me with that little strained face
and a tiny nugget came out.
Look at the satisfaction on that face!
He likes it when you brush his face.
It hit him right in the face, poor bloke.
The face says it all.
I’d love to see your face.
I miss your face.
Such a lovely face.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Think of a word you think you use a lot (eg. How or why or what or when or who.)
Game 2: Search for that word in the search bar of your phone’s WhatsApp or text message app.
Game 3: Spend a few minutes jotting down some of the lines you find in those messages and make a poem using those sentences.
Jeff Sainsbury (born March 21, 1956),
also known by his nickname from the stranger
at the window, Bus Stop Man,
is a grey haired chap known for sitting
at bus stops with an orange bag for life.
Career: His shoulders scream Army,
his hands whisper Baker.
Personal Life: Despite sitting at the bus stop
for an hour (sometimes two) at a time,
he never gets on a bus. He just chats
to anyone who walks by with a smile.
Controversy: He is a ghost.
See Also: The Alexandra Pub.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Think of a nameless stranger you saw in the street recently or out the window or on the news or on TV.
Game 2: Give them a name.
Game 3: Write the Early Life, Career and Personal Life (maybe even Controversies) sections of their Wikipedia page. Get descriptive and be specific.
Carl tells tales 