Game 1: Think of an embarrassing moment from your life – one that makes you shudder (and does not involve you hurting someone, physically or emotionally).
Game 2: Write a poem owning the situation. Celebrate what happened! Get your side of the story across with sheer pride. (Of course, protect the identity of others.)
A robin is on the beach
burying chicken nuggets in the sand.
Its head twitches left and right
watching a motorbike ride
across the outgoing tide.
Goalie gloves bob up and down
where the sky meets the water
and the sun is a bottle of Orange Reef
spilling across grey dance floor clouds.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Open your nearest window or door. Note at least one smell, one sound, and three things you can see.
Game 2: Take those smells, sounds and sights and plonk them somewhere else you think they wouldn’t fit (another country? A different planet? A made up town?).
There were no bags of Scampi Fries left
and the bubbles in the lager were dead
and the quiz machine was rigged
and the wallpaper was half on or half off
and I couldn’t feel my toes
and a moped tore down the roof
and the landlord was a lizard
and the tables were priests on all fours
and the carpet was a secret
and the windows were elbows
and the beer mats were lungs
and the clock hadn’t been invented yet
and I refused to leave.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Pick a soap opera of your liking.
Game 2: Give yourself a soap opera name.
Game 3: Imagine you’ve just been kicked out of the local pub.
Game 4: What on Earth happened?! Tell us in a poem.
The dolphins are laughing
in the changing room
whipping legs with rolled up towels.
Rat tail, rat tail, rat tail.
Shane is against the lockers
a fin-print across his chest,
red spots on his bottle nose.
The pool is full and empty.
Blow holes are stuffed
with orange sherbet,
chicken and mushroom Pot Noodles
and the ancient urge to follow.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Search online for “bucket list examples”. Click on a random list.
Game 2: Find 3-5 things in there you’d never want to do.
Game 3: Spend 7 minutes writing a poem about about why you’d never want to do those things.
I request the square metal dish
for my lunch. I bang the spoon
against the silver slop bowl
shouting More, more,
before even having a mouthful.
The woman who the older people call Janet
swings a soggy ladle in front of my bucked teeth
and a lumpy green waterfall flows.
It looks like sick and smells like home.
I’ve never seen a leek in solid form.
Rumour has it they look like truncheons
and a word I don’t understand.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
The carpets have been lifted,
the bones of floorboards look strong.
Jack Johnson is making banana pancakes
in the kitchen. The doors are open
like the smile behind a wedding camera.
I’m asked How many profiteroles did you manage?
over and over in the space between my ears.
Flecks of year-round tan are refusing
to hide behind emulsion.
Rollers are helping spread a heavy day
across walls as tall as a lifetime.
Manchester is thinking.
There is no dust in my eyes.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Think about a meal someone once cooked for you.
Game 2: Write a poem describing the meal to someone who’s never eaten any of the food in it. Paint a picture of what the food is, but colour it with the feelings each food item stirs up.
Carl tells tales 