Poems about broom

At the foot of the stair,
Breathing in the fresh air.
Walking home,
Text my mum on my phone.
Unlock the door,
Step onto the creaking floor.
Walk to my room,
Knocking over the broom.
Lay on my bed,
Resting my painful head.
Fall asleep,
Don't make a peep.
Wake up,
I am back to being young.

Lord
Life in
This world
Ain't
No honeymoon
But
We just
Getting' ready
To
Jump over
This broom
Now
You be the judge

Sea or broom
The meaning

Runs out of room
To have legs to move--
And like the self

(in love) and useless debris
Tends to get swept away

The Broom
A work out stick
Above the head
With a kick
Not pom poms
But even better
I dance with this
And make it much sweatEur; )
Waist twists
Firm swift shifts
ShooBdoo with the techn9ne crew
Fast stepping
Twirling and bending
Tap that tip to the floor
Point it at the ceiling once more
Sweep dirt? no way
Personal cob webs go away
My broom is a tool
I twirl like a martial arts fool
Upper body exercise
With some attitude
A quickness
And now I smile

I bought a broom for her
Told her a good girl keeps their corners clean
Corners hidden from the world as well.
Told her to move into a nice street
Behaved path.
Prayed she wouldn't be stubborn,
Surprisingly my prayers were answered this time.

There must be someone up there.
There must be no one down here.

She stared at her broom,
Knowing not what to do with it.
She was growing too fast,
I had to jump in.
Sweedy, this is for sweeping,
"You hold it up right and wave it,
With your hands on your hips,
Your smile blinding.
Treat this as your wand.
You are your own Godmother.
You sweep like this,
Discard of all hurt the world has to give.
It wipes tears as well
And you can blow your nose.
When he breaks your heart,
One sweep will turn it from bitter to sweet.
It's magical. It will keep you safe. "
I told her all this without knowing,
A broom won't be sufficient in the present world,
She gon need a vacuum cleaner

Spiritual cleaning requires some personal flinging
That broom dances above my head
Clearing out old cob webs!
OWHH OWHH OWHH
If your a born technician you put your hands to the sky
I do and I brush the shit that clouds my eyes!
As above is so below so sweep around me high and low
I do broom kung foolery
A spiritual cleansing and very true to me
CHA

And 2 songs later

That 7 step outer star spinning round
Dizzy... happy... a hurricane a of beautiful chaos here spins
The first to FILE WINS
... sweep the room clean
I mean my life... I want it clean
I am about to sweep you out
Better stand firm on your feet
Cause right now I will chop you up like a piece of meat
And not fucking chicken in a can

Once there was a witch with a big black hat with a magic broomstick and big black cat
With her magic broomstick she could fly up in to the air one day she went to get it but the broomstick wasnt there
She looked in to her cauldren that was boiling near by for without her stick the witch she couldnt fly.
Then she stirred and stirred hoping she might see if the cauldren could tell her where the broom might be
There she saw her broomstick flying on its own the broomstick had decided to fly off all alone
Now it was getting dark and started to turn black then suddenly the broom decided to go back
It went back to the witch while it still had light now the witch was happy and so full off delight

She lay awake in her tiny bed
And she waited for the dawn,
For then she'd be turning five, they said,
The day that she was born,
She hid her head right under the sheet
And she giggled, now and then,
Thinking about the presents like
They'd given once, to Ben.

For Ben was her older brother and
He'd recently been eight,
Was given a bike, though second-hand,
And Ben had thought it great,
He'd fallen off it a dozen times
And she saw he'd skinned his knees,
But how she would love a bike like his,
She lay and she whispered, ‘Please! '

He'd also got lots of lollipops
And he wouldn't even share,
The one that she stole got sticky, and
Got tangled up in her hair,
But best of all was the parcel that
Unwrapped, was a railway train,
It puffed real steam and its livery gleamed
Til he left it out in the rain.

The sun peeped over the window-sill
And she thought she'd take a look,
For lying there on her counterpane
Was a well-thumbed Cookery Book,
And dimly, stood in the corner of
Her sparsely furnished room,
Was a brush and pan and a black lead can
And a new, short-handled broom.

€˜You're old enough for the chores, ' she heard
As her mother watched her sob,
€˜You can start by filling the kettle,
Then you can place it on the hob,
You'll use the pan for the ashes that
You'll be scraping from the grate,
Then spread them out by the roses, on
The ones by the garden gate. '

€˜You'll sweep the floors in the morning with
That nice new broom you got,
Attend to all of the blacking when
The oven's not so hot,
And then you'll help with the cooking, so
You'll come home straight from school,
Your Da' has need of his supper, so
You'll work, not play the fool. '

The broom had come from a gypsy van
That was camped out on the green,
Was shaped and whittled by gypsy men
To whisk the meadow clean,
It carried with it a gypsy spell
That was woven in a hearse,
To whisk it well, or a taste of hell,
Along with a gypsy curse.

When Martha picked up the broom she felt
The power spread in her hands,
She whisked away to a gypsy tune
She'd heard from the caravans,
She whisked the ashes over the floor,
Put blacking over her nose,
Spilled the kettle over the hob
And ruined her father's clothes.

Her mother started to beat the girl
But the broom then beat her back,
Whisking her out through the open door
And putting her under attack,
It swept the porch right into a heap
It piled the boards of the floor,
Tearing them up from the joists, and then
Sweeping them out the door.

It whisked the lid off the blacking can
And spread black over the walls,
Til Martha's mother ran down the street
To the sound of squeals and squalls,
So Martha's father bought her a doll
That could do all kinds of tricks,
While Martha waved the broom at her Ma,
€˜Just wait til I am six! '

David Lewis Paget