Category Archives: Poems

Like riding a bike

Posted on by
Reply

It’s been 20 years since we last saw each other so we check off all the bits some adults made us believe were important – Where are you living these days? What are you doing for work? Are you married? – before two decades of silence squashes our tongues. My son wanders over with eyes the size of pizzas. You introduce yourself as the boy who could never make it to the Wimbledon final in Virtua Tennis 2 with his dad and I laugh and we call Pat Cash swear words standing in a church for the christening of a baby you just vowed to protect and guide.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Goodbye

Posted on by
Reply

I sometimes laugh when I think about funerals. The dusty blue suits, the how-much-are-we-allowed-to-smile-to-each-others, the flowers none of us want to buy, the time restrictions on crematorium usage before a cheap curtain closes in front of a life we’ve not finished telling everything to because a family (and another and another and another) are waiting to go next. I went for a run last week and a hearse was on the road. I laughed at myself when I realised I had stopped still on the path, put my feet next to each other, bowed my head and thought about every goodbye I’ve never properly said. I laughed.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Crumbs

Posted on by
Reply

They are eating thick biscuits in silence.
Thousands of crumbs are falling
from their mouths like the thousands of afternoons
they have spent in each other’s company.
Plop goes a visit to the canal on her bumbag.
There goes a trip to the zoo
tumbling on to his fleece sleeve,
meerkats standing tall, lions drifting off
behind glass. A clump of pottering around
hand in hand through National Trust parks
pointing at well lived-in houses
lands on his muddied walking boots.
She takes another bite and 300 stops
in the library to flick through
A-Z maps of England trickle to the café floor.
When the thick biscuits are finished they sip
their coffees. Each mouthful a river of comfort
coursing through their next adventure.

Carl Burkitt 2024

and I don’t even know his name

Posted on by
Reply

He remembers how I like ice in my tap water and semi skimmed milk in my decaf tea. He knows I will say no to a biscuit or cake so uses that time to ask me how my writing is going or to compliment a tattoo he’s not seen before. He doesn’t ask me to scan my loyalty card because I did it at the point he said “Hello again”. I don’t know his name, but I know where he gets his beard trimmed because he raised his eyebrows at me from the barber’s chair when I walked past the window last week. Hello again.

Carl Burkitt 2024

A Few Years In The Early 2010s

Posted on by
Reply

Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.
Have fun have fun have fun have fun have fun.
Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.
Drink rum drink rum drink rum drink rum drink rum.
Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.
Have fun have fun have fun have fun have fun.
Drink rum drink rum drink rum drink rum drink rum.
Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.
Drink rum drink rum sore tum drink rum drink rum.
Have fun have fun sore tum drink rum have fun.
Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.
Have fun drink rum mild-de-press-ion drink rum.
Bass drum have fun drink rum sore tum head home.
Bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum bass drum.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening to ‘Call On Me’ by Eric Prydz.

We’re Talking About Our Dreams From Last Night

Posted on by
Reply

and I tell you we were playing badminton.
You were a grown up with arms like your uncle’s
and a smile surrounded by a beard thicker than mine.
You were beating me and I was out of breath
but we’d organised a 5km run together
after our match and you were desperate
to drive me somewhere in your red car.
You wanted to choose the music
and make me my favourite pizza
in your house with a garden and three cats.
You had a dream
you went on a train with your mummy.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening to ‘You Make My Dreams (Come True)’ by Hall & Oates.

Boots Crunching

Posted on by
Reply

He can’t tell anyone
that winter is his favourite season
because everybody loves the sunshine.
They call his dark nights
miserable and refuse to imagine
walking with no coat on,
boots crunching frosted pavements
louder than the thoughts in his head.
There’s only so many layers
you can take off when you’re hot
and it is frowned upon
to peel your skin off on the beach.

Carl Burkitt 2024

‘Everybody Loves the Sunshine’ by Roy Ayers.

They Will Say

Posted on by
Reply

I think about the songwriters
who have the guts to just sing
the exact words they are thinking.
“I love you”, they will say
instead of talking about socks
being unballed before being washed
then being balled up again after being dried
or coconut milk swapped
for an alternative in a new recipe
or popping black heads for a laugh
or researching local therapy options and not
bringing it up until the time is right
or watching Philomena again for a cry
or popping white heads for a laugh.
“I love you,” they will say.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening to ‘Not Alone’ by The Indelicates.

Strangers

Posted on by
Reply

I guess we’ll never grow up
if we sit in our separate offices
for 20 years sharing music
that taught us to grieve alone.
I remember the first pair of jeans
you told me to buy. My legs
never looked longer and my arse
never tighter. I will never know
the things we said but they still exist
in the ears of teenagers who knew
nothing and absolutely everything.
I can see them now, dancing
in West Swindon until the moon
had the confidence to put a full stop
on our movie reviews and ability
to keep each other safe in the knowledge
we know what we’re doing.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Written while listening too ‘Beautiful Strangers’ by Kevin Morby.