Preschool Poem: "Muddles"

by C.J. Heck

This is a preschool poem from a child’s point of view. It’s based on a childhood event of every adult, male or female, everywhere. I think we can all remember the joy of finding a fresh mud puddle ... and the battle we lost to self-control.

I love using poetic license now and then by making up words. The words are usually nonsensical and they can be very funny ---if I do it right.

What follows is the story of a child who loves playing in puddles after it rains. Of course, playing in puddles makes the water muddy and when the child gets all muddy, mommy gets upset.

The child can’t help getting dirty — dirt got in the puddle, too. Besides, playing in “muddles” is so much fun that it’s hard to resist ...

“Muddles”
by C.J. Heck

Splashing-sploshing muddy puddles.
I will name what I made, "muddles".
Run and jump, my feet go splishy,
bare toes feel good, squashy-squishy.

Uh oh, muddles freckled my new pants!
I made it worse, 'cause it's on my hands!
Dripsy-drops are EVERYplace!
It's in my hair! It's on my face!

It's on my shirt, and here, and THERE!
Muddles are just EVERYwhere!
Muddles bubbles in my smell,
is it in BOTH nose holes? I can't tell,

and every twirl I go, it goes.
Eww here comes mommy with the hose.
Mommy said just look at me ...
I can't, 'cause muddles got in my see.

but there aren't muddles in my hears
and mommy's yells fill up my ears.
Now dripples are raining down, oh well,
it's raining muddles off my smell.

My poor muddles, now they're moosh.
I slipped and sat right in the goosh.
The hose rained muddles off my thumb
and rained more muddles off my bum.

Now there's NOwhere muddles stayed
'cause the dripples made them go away.
I can't play, not here, OR there,
I’m in a corner on a chair

and mommy's washing all my clothes.
She said, "Why muddles? I don't know."
Would I still have so many troubles
if I called it something else, NOT muddles?

-*-

[From the book, “Me Too! Preschool Poetry”, by CJ Heck]

Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
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