Melvyn Bragg discusses Wuthering Heights
Nick Robinson’s scared of alternative news sites
The Big Breakfast turns 25
91-year-old Hugh Hefner dies
The PM says we’ve all sacrificed for the banking crisis
Carlton Cole nears move to Crystal Palace
Poets explore the theme of Freedom
As we all plan for World War Threedom
© Carl Burkitt 2017
How’s work?
Saw your holiday pics on Facebook. Looked nice.
Where you living now?
Can’t make it tonight but have one for me!
Reckon you could sponsor me?
Your family good?
#WengerIn
I’m alright, not much to report.
Seen anyone from school lately?
Brexit, eh?
I’ll send you the link.
Let’s get something in the diary.
Happy 30th, mate.
I miss you.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Ralph walked home from the shops
clutching a packet of eggs.
As he felt them gently
move around in their container,
with each step he took,
he thought about how delicate life was.
When Ralph tripped over a curb
and smashed every single egg,
he got a call from him mum
to say his dad had died.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
He felt trapped
in an odd-shaped prison
too awkward to escape.
Squashed against the sides he
pushed with his hands and feet
but nothing budged.
Except his bones.
They began moving backwards,
tightening against his skin
which remained still,
odd-shaped,
awkward to escape.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
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
