Ethan grabbed an apple and an orange
and decided to finally compare the two.
He looked at the apple. Round.
He looked at the orange. Round.
He stroked the apple. Skin.
He stroked the orange. Skin.
He smelt the apple. Sweet.
He smelt the orange. Sweet.
He crushed the apple. Mummy.
He crushed the orange. Daddy.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Of all the gin joints
in all the towns
in all the world,
she walks into that other bloke’s.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Today
I woke up on top of the duvet
Drinking my pillow
Drowning in a pool of dreams.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Martin was a problem.
Nobody could blem like him.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
The traders traded funny looks
As the butcher butchered hanging his hooks.
The baker baked in the summer sun
As the barman barred folks from having fun.
The preacher preached to the already converted
As the musician mused with genres subverted.
The cyclist recycled her carrier bags
As the locals located hidden price tags.
The diners dined out on secondhand tales
As the grocer grossed out with grubby nails.
The florist floored folks with an array of colours
As the market marked its territory with a gorgeous odour.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
It was Thursday
and the young people
did something marvellous,
hoped the old man.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
The poet tried to sum up the world.
He grabbed his fountain pen,
Carved a sunset on the inside of his eyelids
And went to sleep forever.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
She came home three weeks ago, skipping down the hall like she does. “Eyes closed, hands out,” she said. “I’ve got a surprise for you!” The second I closed them, I heard a thud. I’m yet to open my eyes – I’d hate to ruin the surprise – but when I do, I think I’m going to give the flat a clean. It stinks.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Julie had absolutely zero friends.
Her life was utter bliss.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Jerry bought an ape.
When he got it home
he found the beast to be terribly violent.
‘Perfect,’ Jerry smiled.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Carl tells tales 