poems for children – Charlie Bown

The mud cannot be avoided. It has been raining on-off for weeks now and all our favourite walks currently require a full outfit change (and sometimes even a shower) upon our return home.

One of the undeniably joyful things about being a parent is the fact that it is once more socially acceptable to jump in puddles and slide around in mud. Why we stop doing that as we grow up is beyond me. It’s good for the soul, if not the washing machine.

This poem was inspired by our children and their love of mud.

FILTH

Oozy, squoozy, slimy, stinky, squishy, squashy,
Mud.
On my hands and arms and face and gluing my hair together.
It’s my favourite game.
Digging, filling, pouring, mixing, splatting, slopping,
Mud.
Mum joins in. She makes mud concrete for construction toys to move.
My little sister pulls funny faces
But even she loves stamping, stomping, squelching, squashing
Mud.
Then dad looks at us and his eyes go wide,
popping, bulging, straining, craning, staring at all the
Filth.

As a child I was occasionally prone to lying. Little lies, like when I told my year 6 teacher that it wasn’t me who’d thrown their cycling proficiency leaflets in the bin. Full disclosure: it was. Come to think of it I also lied to my University tutor about why I missed my library induction. The actual reason, I didn’t know where the library was, was too embarrassing to admit. Still to this day I think about these lies when I enter a library or ride a bike.

There was, of course, one person who always saw right through me. It’s what mums do. Now I’m a mum this gift has been passed down to me. Watch out kids…! This writing prompt photograph from the Creative Writing Ink competition inspired me to write this poem.

https://creativewritingink.co.uk/competitions/writing-prompt-competition/ – if you fancy a go too!

My Mum Always Knows

My mum always knows
when what I say’s not true.
And when I tell the smallest lie,
She even knows then too.

Like once I said I didn’t eat
the biscuits from the tin.
But she looked into my eyes
and said, “Lying is a sin.”

I felt guilty then and wasn’t sure
what I was meant to say.
Apologise and I’d get caught,
that dreaded biscuit day.

So I said, “No, really mum,
it really wasn’t me.
I knew the rules and never would
have biscuits before tea.”

She looked at me so sadly,
disappointment filled her eyes.
And as she looked at me like that,
the lie inside me died.

“Ok, Mum. I’m really sorry
In fact it was probably me,
I think I might have stolen
some biscuits before tea.

I really am quite sorry,
I never should have lied.”
But she just walked away,
shook her head, tutted and sighed.