Nate, the neon hedgehog was followed around by a crowd
some were amazed that he was not very loud
I loved his fuchsia, my husband liked his greens, yellows and blues
He could not hide at all, he had no subterfuge.
Henry Harry Harold Hubert Hedgehog he
Rolls himself into a prickly ball, let’s let him be
When predators come to annoy, torment or play
His prickly thorns discourage them to go far away
Rock star hedgehog rocked the world of New York with his guitar.
He had gigs lined up from sixth Madison to the Village, place named Garr.
When he began to rock out, the crowd went nuts and screamed along.
There was so much intense screaming, I never understood the song.
The hedgehog is so loving, so giving and so nice.
His toes are truly cold, they feel a bit like ice.
Sun hears the complimentary comments and warms hedgehog up.
Anyone this marvelous, should be enjoying their slumber after sup.
The peeping hedgehog scared the willies out of the maid
She ran from the room screaming, after hearing the window shade
I don’t know what it is, maybe a beaver or a bear she yelled out.
We could hear her six minutes later, giving another annoying shout.
At least I got rid of her, the peeping hedgehog said, amused.
I did not know these mammals talk, so I felt slightly confused.
Let’s play Uno, the hedgehog suggested to me.
I love Uno, so I invited him in for tea.
Hedgehog, O hedgehog
dear spiny, meek and mousy poppet.
In England
where the tickly grass grows
greener
we galumph in our rubber boots
up to your little
Hobbit nests
beneath the thorny bushes
were you rests.
We the ever scampy
nippers
fill tin cups with wriggly worms
leave then there
by your dinky
mossy dells.
All the pricky hogs
come from near and nearer,
to snuff and gobble
by the brittle briery
and eat their wormy mush.
Our mucky paws clap
in gay and giggly glee
to see that munchy feast,
their piddly
licky
muzzles
chomping -
quite charming.
Adults say, 'we will catch a flea'
from their pin pointy pelts.
yet we shrug
our never minds, and
our don't cares,
even bring
one tiddly tyke home,
smuggling it up the stairs
to coddle
while we playtime
with some jolly good
fun....
For an hour
Cicadas saw at the early August evening
While thunder purrs as kittens
In the yarn of dark clouds balled up out west over Ionia County
Trees prepare their umbrellas
The Tigers on TV swing away in the 3rd inning
A good book in hand
Then out of hand
A den of lions-wind roars outside our patio window
Devours the screens
I jump back
House turns black
And our 100-year old standing friends
Just like that
Break in half no more than the unlucky draw of straws
While others are plucked like Hedgehog mushrooms
All thrown down
At dawn
Sunlight strikes of leftover lightning
Flashes through new holes punched in the canopy
I hadn’t seen the sky in my backyard for decades
But there it is
Claw marks across the laid-down lambs on forest floor
And upon the beast of me who lies beside them.
Hedgehog loves her floral hat
It’s one of a kind said the Dracula bat.
I ducked my head as he swooped down.
This red-eyed wonder sometimes lands on a crown.
The hat is marvelous, the bat told me.
I saw it yesterday while we drank tea.
I wanted to see it but had no idea where the hedgehog was.
Follow us! Said a caterpillar with knees full of dandelion fuzz.
We walked for miles, the caterpillar and I.
She’s over the hill! Yelled Dracula bat from the sky.
Hedgehog showed off her hat, and it was great.
But my supper was two hills away, and now I’d be late.
She is feeding her hedgehog a dandelion brew.
We do not interrupt her until she is through.
How does he like it? We ask as he slurps.
See for yourself she says, as he gives some loud burps.
Persnickety hedgehog says, “Why don’t you ask me yourself?”
I scoot myself a bit farther back on the oak limb’s magical shelf.
Don’t be shy! The hedgehog says. Any more questions for me?
I try to pretend I am one with the tree.
I know this might sound kind of wrong
But I am making up a ditty of a cute little song
About how hedgehog loves his smelly patchouli bong
How can I distribute it to this hippie throng?
Hedgehog is a private guy, I said.
You might be messing with his head.
I would write a song about myself instead.
Maybe about how you keep overfed.
It was November first, Hedgehog Grandpa’s birthday.
"We’ve got to be going!" Mom was yelling that day.
The one that was keeping us back was brother Gay.
A slow poke again, on that cool Saturday.
"I am leaving now." The voice was loud, from Dad.
"I am right behind you!" I yelled. My name is Thad.
My mother was holding a gift, so that is rad.
Because it is the birthday of H.G., our granddad.
As we headed down to Gramp’s tree, Gay caught up.
He had six excuses, most of them about having to sup.
He was still carrying a bit of toast and a coffee cup.
"When we get there," Dad said “You had better shape up!”
Grandpa came to the door and yelled “I’ll be!”
If anyone acted surprised ever, it was certainly he.
We do this every year, but still this pleased thee.
“Happy birthday!” I yelled to Grandpa. He said "You surprised me!"
Girly hedgehog is so feminine and fine
She should have suiters falling down in a line
My hair is perfect, my smile is a delight
What is wrong with these boys? They simply aren’t right!
Maybe you are too perfect, a butterfly suggests.
I agree! Throws in a wise robin from her perch on her nest.
You mean I am too good for all of them? Hey! That’s probably true!
So the stuck-on-herself hedgehog was now happy, not blue.
I just saw a little beast outside!
I think he has scurried off to hide!
Is he a little chubby with a pretty face?
That’s Rhubarb my hedgehog, he has such grace.
You mean you are feeding this rodent creature?
I surely am, he is like watching a double feature.
He’s funny and sassy and he scurries with attitude.
I love everything about him. He is polite, never rude.
He washes his food first in that little bowl of water.
We all adore Rhubarb - my husband, son and daughter.
Please do not scare him, it has taken him a long time.
To get used to humans, and now I claim him as mine.
You really are an animal love the persnickety visitor said.
I think you are odd, I would enjoy seeing inside your head.
Hedgehog librarian had a following of sixty-seven hundred strong.
She loved teaching library skills, she had been at it hard and long.
How old do you think she is? Someone asked, politically wrong.
No idea, but she tells a wild story about pirates, witches and King Kong.
As hedgehogs we don’t get much work and thus get little pay
And that’s a shame because it’s grandma’s ninety eighth today
We can’t afford a birthday cake the shops charge quite a toll
But the baker’s just threw out a slightly stale Swiss roll
What a stroke of luck I thought, all I need now is candles
But then I found a hundred tucked behind some old fork handles *
I took my bargains home and put the candles in the cake
Which I hadn’t had to purchase and I hadn’t had to bake
We hedgehogs had a get together later on that night
I struck a match to light the cake and said turn out the light
A Swiss roll with a hundred birthday candles (all but two)
Went up like a beacon to enliven grandmas ‘do’
I turned around to grandma where she sat in silhouette
She didn’t answer when I asked her, ‘Do you want cake yet?’
I asked my grandson, Danny, does your grandma look excited
And Danny said it’s hard to tell… it’s granny you’ve ignited
[* If anybody on planet Earth doesn’t ‘get’ this reference,
Google ‘the two Ronnies, fork handles’]
Related Poems