April had questions.
Why do you love me? Why do
you love me? Why do you? Why?
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
April wanted nothing but the best so called the professionals, the pros, the ones with fancy clothes. The guys with the hats, big lats and polished baseball bats. They zoomed to her house and stood by the door. They didn’t know what for, but that didn’t matter. Their job wasn’t to chatter. It was to be on guard. To be strong. To ensure nothing went wrong.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
Golly gosh
my dear Avon lady ran off
with the cobbler.
It seems he makes cassettes for her
and lets her win at croquet.
Blimey.
At least that leaves the crossword for me
when I forget to collect Martha from Playschool.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
circling seas of secrets and wishes. long-legged lads leaping onwards. a thousand cries deafened by devotion. pickled eggs the size of footballs. observing eyes that never judge.
her world was a dream
entered only by April,
one she never left
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
No one loved walking as much as April.
She would slide on her red wellington boots
And walk wherever the ground would let her.
Mountains were a big favourite of hers,
As were beaches and parks and rivers.
No one loved walking as much as April
And the feeling as the sun smiled at her.
But even when the sky decided to cry
She would slide on her red wellington boots,
Fill her pockets with packets of tissues,
Kiss the Earth with the soul of her soles
And walk wherever the ground would let her.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
April did not believe in
People turning to
Robots for support
In case a master
Looked close
Inside her mind and came a
Step closer to the reveal
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
April never really knew Guy,
But her father liked him a lot.
His nose was always filled with snot,
His skin always crusty and dry,
His shirt all splashed with specks of pie
And his knee scabbed with bloody clot.
April never really knew Guy,
But her father liked him a lot
Despite always making him cry
Or so mad he smashed mum’s teapot
In a frustrated rage, red hot.
Dad found it hard to say goodbye.
April never really knew Guy.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
Water never looked the same to April
After her family trip to the beach,
No longer was it calm and graceful.
Water never looked the same to April.
It was rough and choppy and hateful,
A haven she could no longer reach.
Water never looked the same to April
After her family trip to the beach.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
Tony bought a scratch card.
He scratched it up real hard.
£20,000.
Wow.
It didn’t bring his mum back, though.
Or even afford the car he desperately wanted.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
April loved her life
at home with her wife
Hannah.
Happiness was rife
unlike with ex ‘strife’
Anna,
who was from East Fife,
obsessed with her knife.
Spanner!
© Carl Burkitt 2017
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.
Carl tells tales 