Childhood Poemsr by C J Richardson

 

Sweet and Sour

Mam made a cone

from newspaper and put sugar in it.

Then she’d give each of us a stick

of rhubarb, to dip.

I loved the green-apple tartness

of the rhubarb against the sweet

sugar granules. Tongues curling

and saliva swirling, like a tap

turned on. Lips pursed

and tongues licking, again and again

‘til it was gone. Mouth and hands

stuck up to glory. Faces beaming

with the aftermath of it,

as we pick the strings

from pink stained teeth. Good

as a bag of sweets any day.

 

 

The Old School

I hear the clang of the bell and I see myself

running on cold concrete across the school playground,

knees gashed and grazed, naked elbows protruding

from a worn out cardigan.

 

Tucking dress into my knickers I tipple up

the sooty black wall, feet firmly planted against its solid face.

Blood rushes and reddens already rosy cheeks while

grit grabs the fleshy palms of my hands.

 

The skipping rope flies high, in time to

‘Polly’s in the kitchen’ and I get a stitch doing the skipping.

I run away screaming as someone shouts ‘Kiss-catch’, NO-ONE

misses snotty nosed kisses from bullying boys with tide marks.

 

A small tin of Tics, tucked in my pocket

Rattles and tinkles and brings all friends running.

‘Share or you’re dead.’ claim a clamour of voices

And a handful of hands are grabbing and jabbing.

 

The bell clangs again and Miss Ellie takes charge

‘Line up in order and don’t make a noise.

Boys on the left and Girls on the right.’

She marches us back through the great gothic doors.

 

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