Ingredients of a Mercedes apprentice

4 tbsp of freckles
2 earrings, mocked
4 front teeth, finely chopped
3 German homeworks, finely copied
2 buttery goalie gloves
500g of text messages
2 missed calls
1 nightmare
6 x 400g cans of tears
1 memorial tree, planted
1 large glass red wine (optional)
8 mates, crushed
4 tbsp of Prince Charming on repeat
1 tbsp of trying our best
Anniversary pint, to serve

© Carl Burkitt 2021

#NaPoWriMo Writing Exercise 9: INGREDIENTS OF YOU

Game 1: Find a recipe online or from a book.

Game 2: Think of a person in your life.

Game 3: Write INGREDIENTS OF YOU at the top of a page.

Game 4: Keep the numbers, weight, method etc (eg. ‘3 large diced’) but replace all the foodstuff (eg. ‘Onions’) with qualities, hobbies, traits, charming stories etc of the person you thought of. Make the list longer if you need.

Contacts

Someone you’d travelled with –
wet eyed, beer foam-lipped,
in a reindeer onesie –
found everything you said funny.
Things he had never told anyone
chirped from his mouth like birdsong.
At the other end of a panicked call
the man in the onesie – set for a fall –
back to being a stranger
dead in your mind only six hours later.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

(Written by grabbing a paragraph from Mark Watson’s book ‘Contacts’, rearranging it to a 10 line poem, removing lines 2,4,6,8,10 and replacing them with my own.)

Knees in the shower

I’m not a giant.
But at six foot four
I need to bend my knees in the shower.
I look like a flower
moving its head to find the sun,
except I hunt for rain clouds.
If a shower is too powerful
it can feel like a group of wet snipers
completing their mission through my chest.
If the drizzle is too light a sprinkle
then what’s the point?
I used to blame a weak shower
for my dour moods, or disappointing smell,
or for the drought that would leave me
too dry to get out of bed.

© Carl Burkitt 2021