Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.15.182.56
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Grandad The Superhero

My grandad was a superhero,
You would not think it true,
For now he’s old and very slow,
And he only wears one shoe.

He used to soar across the sky,
Birdman was his name,
But now he can no longer fly,
It’s really such a shame.  

His cape is torn and full of ants, 
His mask is in the draw,
He still wears superhero pants, 
As he walks across the floor.

He lives in a home for OAPs,
For old folk with special powers,
They talk about the good old days,
To while away the hours.

Captain Whizz was lightning quick,
He was faster than a train,
He’d be anywhere within a tick,
To save the world again.

Now the Captain’s very big,
He eats all day long,
He has worse manners than a pig,
And smells, “Oh, what a pong!”

Old Mr Fist is Grandad’s friend, 
He had super human strength,
There was nothing that he could not bend,
Metal bars of any length.

But his powers have also faded,
His strength has gone away,
He cannot walk unaided,
So, he’s stuck inside all day.

Old heroes need a lot of care,
That is of little doubt,
But when trouble calls please beware,  
Thieves, muggers best watch out.

He hears a click and then a bang,
The tap of many feet,
Grandad fears a burglar gang,
As he throws aside the sheet.
 
He wakes his friend, Mr Fist,
And they tiptoe down the stairs,
Their eyes are peeled for any twist,
That could catch them unawares.

They peer into the dining room,
And get a nasty shock,
The manager’s tied to a broom,
His mouth filled with a sock.

Robbers have invaded,
Stealing money from the drawer,
Grandad’s powers may have faded,
But he must settle this score. 

Standing in his underpants,
With tummy sticking out,
The time has come to take his chance,
“Please leave now,” Grandad shouts.

Seeing Grandad with no clothes on,
Is a very scary thing,
The robbers turn, their smiles have gone,
They jump out of their skin. 

They run towards the hallway,
As fast as they can run,
But Captain Whizz is in their way,
Munching on a bun.

The robbers bounce off Whizz’s belly,
They fly right through the room,
They almost land upon the telly,
With a crash, bang and a boom.

The robbers all lie in a row,
As Whizz sits upon them all,
The thieves all beg, "Please let us go,
Don't give the cops a call."

Soon the blue lights flash,
The police are at the door,
To take away the robber trash,
Their thieving ways no more.

Now our forgotten heroes,
Have made the frontpage news,
They might be old and very slow,
But remember…bad guys always lose.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required