Primary School Poetree: The Hedgehog Poem

Hedgehog, Hedgehog, come over here
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, go over there
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, use your ear
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, you have got a lot of hair.

Hedgehog, Hedgehog, up and round the corner
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, rolls into a ball
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, come and get your milk in the saucer
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, you come when I call.

Hedgehog, Hedgehog, round we go,
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, standing still on the ground
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, when a badgers comes we keep low
Hedgehog, Hedgehog, we like to see you around


The Last Echo

I can feel the tendrils of disparity

Clawing at the under belly of rage

Spattering the fogged window of clarity

Shattering the frosted exterior of your self

I can smell the fumes of regret

Engulfing the lungs of impurity.

Poisoning the mind to forget,

The repeat of last time.

I can taste your lips on my breath.

The pseudo essence of care

The decrepit and boredom crest

I will close my eyes to the taint.

I know that this was all it was.

A plague of misconception.

I wish it was more than what it was.

I wouldn’t move heaven, I wouldn’t move earth.

But I’d be there for you.

Even if you don’t want me to.


As our fingers brush, bristle against  each other like blades of grass buffeted by harsh breeze. My heart breaks.

I will not let you stop me.

The tendrils of emotion circle my motionless corpse at night, reminding me the noise of my nemesis. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

I will not let you drop me.

The concrete safety nestled in my heart as I watch you sleep turns into a blade, cauterising my thoughts of leaving. I want you.

Should I stay?

My dream of experiencing the world, encountering new and astounding people crumbles before  me, like a castle on the brink of a cliff. Teetering on the cliff of sacrifice.

It’s you I want.

Versus the image of constructing a stable life with you by my side. Your long blonde hair billowing, leaving an essence of your scent lingering on my nose. Pure ecstasy.

I am torn.

Giving up the one I love for the life I want.

That’s what it means.

To have the courage to be imperfect.
That’s what it means.
To expose our vulnerabilities to those around us.

Showing them the cracks in our positive masks.
That’s what it means.
To know that no-one is alright. 

Ever since ignorance was stripped from us.

Ever since we opened our eyes to the true terror of the world.

That’s what it means.
The harsh reality that our mortality is the reason we treasure everything so dearly.

That very own mortality being snuffed out like a flame by those who exploit life. 

We are glass. We are delicate. We are the sands that sweep past your feet. We are part of this world and we will not be ignored. 
That what it means. 
What it means to be human.