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Andrew Pollard 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.
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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Andrew Pollard Poem
MY CRAZY CREATURES
This rhyme's about creatures of various sorts.
Creatures with fangs, hairy bellies and warts.
They cause lots of mischief all day long.
Mum always blames me but I’ve done nothing wrong.
These creatures are crazy. They’re not what you'd think.
Turn over the page. Find out more in a blink...
The first is Belcher. He really does stink.
He lives in the toilet and plays in the sink.
He likes to be naughty when nobody's in.
He cannot be found when you're searching for him.
Dad always moans when he sees all the stains.
I tell him it’s Belcher, “He’s done it again!”
Two thinks that she’s pretty, but really she’s not.
She has warts on her face and is covered in spots.
She has a big bottom and six hairy feet.
Her name is Ghastly. She’s really not sweet.
She steals mum’s lipstick and paints her mouth red.
She tries on her dresses, throwing clothes on the bed.
As soon as mum enters she’s so quick to flee.
I guess that’s why my mum always blames me.
Number three is so quiet but I know that he’s there.
He smudges my face and puts glue in my hair.
I call him Hush Monster as he follows me round,
Putting mud on my clothes without making a sound.
I aim for the paper but the pen marks my face.
Mum looks at me glumly, "You're such a disgrace."
I try to tell her that it just wasn't me.
"It was Hush monster, Mummy. Why can't you see?"
The worst of them all is a creature called Doom.
I'm always in trouble when he's in the room.
He often burps loudly when we're eating our food.
Mum frowns with disgust. "Now, don't be so rude!"
He cackles with laughter whilst spilling my drink.
"Be careful," shouts dad. "Don't you ever think?"
You may well wonder why he's never been caught.
Well…he's the size of a pea and he’s very well taught.
He rolls under the sofa after doing things bad,
And I look to my parents who seem really mad.
These crazy creatures I like the best.
I’m glad I could share them with you and the rest.
Belcher, Ghastly and a monster called Hush,
Then don't forget Doom. They all make me blush.
They live in my house and like to cause bother,
Driving everyone mad, especially my mother.
They’re experts in mischief. They get me in trouble.
Now I’ll tell you a secret that may burst your bubble.
Whilst these creatures are crazy it has to be said,
They don’t really exist, “They’re all in my head!”
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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Andrew Pollard Poem
The haunted house of fun and bones
Is spooky amongst the old gravestones.
The full moon shines, strange creatures groan.
This is no place to be alone.
The paintings watch as we walk up the stairs,
Passing suites of armour. I’m now quite scared.
Mum kisses my cheek, dad hugs me tight.
“Have a good rest. Sleep well…good night.”
My brother and I share a four-poster bed.
The noises outside fill me with dread.
The window is open and the curtains flap.
What lurks in the dark? I’m fearing a trap.
I hear footsteps, something plays with the lock.
The door creaks open and I freeze from the shock.
Someone enters. We hide under the sheet.
The steps are so close, just a couple of feet.
Our cover is gone, pulled away in a blink.
By now I’m so frightened I cannot think.
A man with no head holds a skull in his hand.
“I’m Marmaduke Van Snot, the Earl of this land.”
I cling to my brother as the air turns cold,
Marmaduke speaks, “I’m eight hundred years old.
I’ve been dead for so long, it’s my birthday today.
You must come to my party, right away.”
We watch with wide eyes as the ghost leaves our room.
“Downstairs,” says Marmaduke. “Please join me real soon.”
I look to my brother and he looks at me,
We agree to explore this ghostly party.
Downstairs the great hall is in full swing.
There is music and laughter and lots of dancing.
Everyone is having a really great time.
I’m no longer frightened. I feel quite fine.
It’s a monster party that is really first class.
A vampire drinks blood at the bar by the glass.
Werewolves howl and zombies crawl,
The mummies dance like they’re having a ball.
The food is weird, I have to say.
There are eyeballs on sticks and a finger buffet,
Green slime in a bowl, frogs legs and bat wings,
I feel quite sick. I can’t eat anything.
We have plenty of fun and dance through the night,
Until the ballroom fills with daylight.
The guests disappear in puffs of smoke,
Me and my brother both cough and choke.
My eyes flick open as I wake up in bed.
The door creaks, and I lift my head.
It’s not Marmaduke but my own mum and dad.
It’s time to leave and I feel quite sad.
I look to the house as we drive away.
I don’t want to leave, I wish we could stay.
Did it happen, or was it all in my head?
Perhaps it was a ghostly dream instead.
I then spot a figure at a window high up.
It’s a man with no head, and he raises his cup.
It’s Marmaduke Van Snot, he’s eight hundred years old
And he throws the best parties that have ever been told.
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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Andrew Pollard Poem
Once upon a time in a woodland vale,
A town called Wong had an amazing tale,
Of witches who plotted to harm the townsfolk,
But their spells were so bad they became quite a joke.
Hubble, bubble, trouble and toil,
Evanora boiled her soup,
Of frogs and bats and slugs and soil,
The most revolting gloop.
Her cooking skills were really wild,
She had to add more flavour,
By catching a really tasty child,
And one of bad behaviour.
She cackled as she formed a plan,
She would make a house of cake,
To lure the child with marzipan,
That would be its last mistake.
She waved her wand to cast a spell,
But after a minute or three,
She conjured up a prison cell,
And was trapped in without a key.
With the first witch out of the way,
Another hag stepped in,
Her skin was green, her hair was grey,
Hairy warts were on her chin.
Iris peered into the looking glass,
“Am I the prettiest in the land?”
The mirror coughed, “I’m sorry lass,”
“You have a face I cannot stand!”
The witch screamed and waved her fist,
She could not face the fact,
That she did not top the beauty list,
And now she had to act.
“TELL ME,” she screamed out in a rage,
“Who’s your favourite beauty?
The prettiest girl who tops the page,
shall be poisoned by something fruity.”
Now the mirror always told the truth,
He was honest about everything,
He said, “Number one is Princess Ruth,
The daughter of the King.”
This wicked witch went on the chase,
“Princess Ruth, I will attack!”
She packed some fruit with poisoned lace,
And a healthy one to snack.
Iris jumped upon her broom stick,
And bit into her apple,
She soon began to feel quite sick,
And crashed into the chapel.
Found dead amongst the rubble,
Her story was quite sad,
She had stumbled into trouble,
Mixing good fruit with the bad.
The last witch was the worst of all,
She was known as the Ice Queen,
She was pale, thin and very tall,
And really, really mean.
The Ice Queen loved the freezing cold,
She liked the frost and snow,
Eternal winter would unfold,
Wherever she might go.
Now the town of Wong was in her sight,
She cast her evil curse,
Heavy snow would fall throughout the night,
And make the weather worse.
But when morning finally came,
There had been no winter storm,
The Ice Queen hung her head in shame,
For Wong was nice and warm.
The people now all laughed and cheered,
They enjoyed the lovely sun,
But the angry queen scowled and sneered,
She was keen to spoil their fun.
She said, “Winter will come, people of Wong,
I shall end your happy tale.”
The wand then flashed, but her spell went wrong,
And she turned into a snail.
Now Wong has been free from the witches three,
For many a day and night,
Whilst tourists travel miles to see,
This small town where the sun shines bright.
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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Andrew Pollard Poem
Umm and Err can never decide
On things to do or places to hide.
Which clothes to put on? What games to play?
What food to eat? They cannot say.
Mum asks them again, again and again,
So many times, it drives her insane.
“What do you want? You must give me a clue.
If you don’t tell me soon, what can I do?”
But the pair stare blankly at their mum,
And Err says, “Err…” whilst Umm says, Umm…”
At the shops both brothers want a drink,
When asked which one they cannot think.
Some water perhaps, or maybe some juice?
Still, the boys do not know which drink to choose.
Mum tries to help, “Some milk could be nice?”
Perhaps they could choose by rolling some dice.
“Hot chocolate?” says Mum. “Or, maybe iced tea?
Lemonade tastes nice. Do you agree?”
But the pair stare blankly at their mum,
And Err says “Err…” whilst Umm says… “Umm…”
At the park the brothers run to the swings,
The slide, the roundabout and other playthings.
But they cannot agree on which ride to choose,
If they don’t act quick, they both could lose.
Mum puffs her cheeks. She is close to despair.
What should she do with this uncertain pair?
The rain starts to fall and it’s time to go,
They rush to the car as the wind starts to blow.
“Shall we drive home?” asks poor mum,
But Err says, “Err…” whilst Umm says. “Umm…”
Their story continues day after day,
For Umm and Err do not know what to say.
Whenever they have to make a choice,
They always seem to lose their voice.
They cannot pick which book to read,
Which pet they should buy is never agreed.
What colour, which fruit: apple or pair?
Which coat, T-shirt or hat to wear?
The boys stare blankly at their mum,
And Err says “Err…” whilst Umm says, “Umm…”
Then, all seems to change on one special day.
The boys greet their mum and both of them say,
“Shall we go out and do lots of great things,
Like play on the slides, but not on the swings.
Then a glass of milk with an apple and pair,
And we’ll even choose our own clothes to wear.”
Mum just stares blankly. She has been struck quite dumb,
She can only say, “Err…” followed by, “Umm…”
For her two dear sons have suddenly changed,
It’s as if their minds have been re-arranged.
Now Umm and Err always decide,
On things to do and places to hide.
Which clothes to put on, and what games to play.
They always have plenty to say.
The boys are so happy, you can see in their eyes,
For, finally, it seems they have both realised…
That to get what you want and to have the most fun
You must make a choice, and not Err… or Umm…
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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Andrew Pollard Poem
George the Giant lives alone in his cave.
He is really big but not very brave.
He just wants a friend to have fun with all day,
But no-one wants to join him at play.
The problem is that he’s clumsy and big,
And he has worse manners than your average pig.
The ground always shakes when he stomps his feet,
Causing lots of destruction in every street.
His clothes don’t fit and there are holes in his shoe.
He breaks every chair and most toilet seats too.
He eats too much and burps real loud,
He wants to make friends but is just not allowed.
In the playground George tries to fit in.
“Who wants to play?” he says, with a grin.
He’s too big for the slide and gets really stuck.
He then breaks the swings. What terrible luck.
The angry mayor has a frown on his face.
“Please leave this town. You’re such a disgrace!”
Poor George is not wanted. He feels very sad.
He trudges away, and the townsfolk are glad.
George sits in his cave, on top of the hill.
He looks over the town all alone until
A flickering light fills him with dread.
The town is on fire and it’s starting to spread.
With no time to lose he runs as fast as he can,
To the aid of each child, woman and man.
The ground shakes as he comes to a stop,
At a house that's on fire and is about to go pop.
A boy and a girl are trapped in their room,
Two little scared faces filled with doom.
Mum cries and cries, “Save Tom and Millie!”
“Don’t worry,” says George. “Leave this to me.”
He reaches inside and says to the pair,
“Climb into my arms. I’ll treat you with care.”
The children obey, and George pulls them from danger.
“Thank you,” says mum, to the heroic big stranger.
The fire spreads quick and is far too hot.
The townsfolk are at risk of losing the lot.
Yet George has an idea that could save the day.
He wastes no time and runs to the bay.
Taking a boat from the sea George fills it right up,
With gallons of water, like a giant big cup.
He runs back and forth, time after time,
Pouring water on fire, until all is fine.
Now the flames are out George has saved the town,
And the mayor greets him without a frown.
“Dear George,” he says. “We’d love you to stay,”
And the crowd all cheer, “Hip, hip…hooray!”
George lives in his cave but no longer alone.
The townsfolk visit for tea and a scone.
He has many friends to have fun with all day,
The children all love him…and George loves to play.
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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