Paris.
Rasp air.
Spiral lair.
Rail slip.
Lip slap.
Sail, sir.
RIP, Pa.
© 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 had only seven things she loved:
Her mum
Her dad
Her older brother
Her older sister
Her younger brother
Her puppy
And the cemetery they all lived in.
© 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.
There once was a girl called April
Who was sweet and kind and cool
She was also so strong
And if you did anything wrong
She’d kill you and your family n’all
© 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 loved springtime.
The sun, the birds, the blossom,
Her well used mattress.
© 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.
One day I will tell you absolutely everything.
You won’t understand most of it.
You’ll challenge me on some of it.
You’ll cry at the bits I stumble over.
You’ll smile at the bits I don’t understand.
One day I will tell you absolutely everything
And no longer be afraid.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
There once was a dinosaur called the NearlyFortySaurus.
It was a rather dusty and crusty old thing. Each creak of her ageing joints could be heard throughout the land.
She used to be such an energetic beast, but now every morning the NearlyFortySaurus would glare at the TwentySomethingauruses in disgust, as they pranced about on their freshly trimmed claws with their perky little tails.
All the other dinosaurs were quite mean to the NealyFortySaurus and would laugh at how old she was. Especially the VeloShoaraptor. He would poke fun at her all day long and call her names like Grandmadactyl or Nanceratops.
But the NearlyFortySaurus would react in the only way she knew how: being the most compassionate, affectionate, Frozen-playing, lullaby-singing, multi-tasking mother on planet Earth. A future fossil the likes of which has never been seen before.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Brief by Shoaban: “I’d like something celebrating the compassionate and affectionate side of the mother of my children, while poking fun at her nearly turning forty!”
This piece was written as a part of a fundraising project for Rethink Mental Illness, where I’m inviting people to set me any writing brief in exchange for donations.
Read all of the details here and if you’d like to get involved, email ca.burkitt@gmail.com or Tweet @CarlBurkitt!
Jimmy really enjoyed looking in the mirror.
He’d never seen anything he truly loved in there
but was confident he would one day.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
George grabbed a pen and Michael grabbed a sword
as they vowed to finally settle the argument
of who was more poetic.
Within a matter of seconds
Michael sliced off George’s hand
like a thing slicing a thing.
He then shoved the sword as a something would shove a sword
right through George’s quad making a kind of plop sound.
More of a squidge sound actually.
You know, it sounded just how you’d imagine.
Michael was so angry if he was an animal you’d have said
wow that animal is fuming
or if he was a plant you’d have said
wow that plant is annoyed
but he was a human so he was just so angry.
So angry he took the sword and sliced George’s cheek.
So angry he got the sword and sliced George’s cheek.
So angry he had the sword and sliced George’s cheek.
George hit the floor, breaking his spectacles,
Before Michael scraped out his eyes
And strangled him to death as a
bonafide hooligan from an organised crime unit would.
© Carl Burkitt 2017
© Carl Burkitt 2017
© Carl Burkitt 2017
Carl tells tales 