Brooms Poems | Examples

Are Witches real

Witches  in capes and their black pointed hats

Riding on brooms with their black
Witches cat.

Witches don't laugh they just cackle and scream 

Are Witches reality or do they  just live in your dream  

Witches casting spells That can make you bark like a dog 

Making up Witches potions that can turn
You into a frog

Witches are they real this or is what I write 
All in fun

But I will only advise you this if you do 
See a witch RUN.

A strange sorrow once married me

Life, come thou unhurried to me,
Said she, it’s long buried, to me. 

A strange sorrow once married me,
Wonder who’d it carried to me.

Once a bubble dared laugh at me,
Blown soon, it looked harried to me.
	
Where’s the strainer that filters sins?
The query stands parried to me.

What all my joys can sweep aside,
Such brooms have never worried me.
___________________________  
Ghazal |05.09.2025| sorrow, sin, joy, life

The last lamplighters

We climb the veils of woven mist,
Where time dissolves and stars persist,
Our hands coax flames from shadowed thread,
And light the paths the lost have tread.

We herd the fog on silver brooms,
Awake the night with whispered tunes,
We teach the snow to hum its prayer,
And fold the wind through tangled air.

We sail in cups that catch the light,
Pour dawn from hours stitched in night,
Our shadows rise like restless rye,
And scale the quiet ladders high.

We trap the dark with seeds of flame,
Nameless in dusk, we feed the flame,
We bind the tides with threads of hair,
And float the sky on breathless air.

We are the last lamplighters here,
Who guard the hush when stars appear,
With trembling hands, we cradle night,
And rock the moon till morning’s light.

Private Celebration

Whirlwind
Of summer embers
Stirs up
From the un-mowed grass

Swept by the brooms of July 4th fireworks
Booming distant in the furled city

Up high
To the tree tops
The fire flies rise

To the hunger of bats that swoop as spoons
Banging the pan of moon

More than enough for all
The stars
Lightning bugs
Moonbeams and bean wings

Consciousness everywhere

Our heads tilt
On their cracked bodies

Statues
Still standing
For a longer whisper
In the ancient gallery of this summer

My wife her husband
Hands freed from our marble robes

We
Ignite and hold
The gold of a sparkler

Close to our faces.

The Churning

If the dawn light
we're not being pounded into blindness
by the pelting rain,
if the earth and sky ceased
crashing into each other
churning threads of twilight
into a bitter pulp of crushed worms,
a clogging alluvium
then all must lay as it is
until a muddled earth resettles the land
for in those muddled mounds
there will be the seeds of a new sky
Then brooms, shovels and the titans of charity
will once again labor to seal the rift
between hearts and eyes.

Prophecy or Warning

Ominous thunder, prophecy or merely a warning?
God’s hands clap loudly, oak tree or transformer must have been hit.
Portentous night has turned still and bleak, silence as a warning
Menacing clouds are moving ridiculously fast toward the east

This is an evening for witches, gremlins, warlocks and bats
I expect to see brooms in the sky; I feel threatened
The moon weeps, there are black clouds of thunder
I cringe at the noise, feeling more threatened than ever.

Ballad of the school houses

When we were in secondary school,
   we used to hold brooms like reign and sweep and sweep
   and sweep and sweep clear and clean each an every
  house.
 And race to sweep Hamman Dikko house;
    and race to sweep Tudun Wada house;
  and race to sweep Ardo Sali house;
  and make hay while the sun shines.
I remember the brooms were sharp and fine like rainy 
   water shattering amidst rainy season O a flowing river
 towards the sea.
 Our mathes teacher would almost punish us for assuming
  that we can anyhow shatter in in in the wood- I remember
  the duty perfect used to say as etiquette let begin
   from jss 1  to the staffroom , let the ss1 and jss 111 
   sweep the senior classes and the computer lab.
  I remember the motto is keep out impurity and clean 
   your school and the society at large?.

Ballad of the school houses

When we were in secondary school,
   we used to hold brooms like reign and sweep and sweep
   and sweep and sweep clear and clean each an every
  house.
 And race to sweep Hamman Dikko house;
    and race to sweep Tudun Wada house;
  and race to sweep Ardo Sali house;
  and make hay while the sun shines.
I remember the brooms were sharp and fine like rainy 
   water shattering amidst rainy season O a flowing river
 towards the sea.
 Our mathes teacher would almost punish us for assuming
  that we can anyhow shatter in in in the wood- I remember
  the duty perfect used to say as etiquette let begin
   from jss 1  to the staffroom , let the ss1 and jss 111 
   sweep the senior classes and the computer lab.
  I remember the motto is keep out impurity and clean 
   your school and the society at large?.

Ballad of the school houses

When we were in secondary school,
   we used to hold brooms like reign and sweep and sweep
   and sweep and sweep clear and clean each an every
  house.
 And race to sweep Hamman Dikko house;
    and race to sweep Tudun Wada house;
  and race to sweep Ardo Sali house;
  and make hay while the sun shines.
I remember the brooms were sharp and fine like rainy 
   water shattering amidst rainy season O a flowing river
 towards the sea.
 Our mathes teacher would almost punish us for assuming
  that we can anyhow shatter in in in the wood- I remember
  the duty perfect used to say as etiquette let begin
   from jss 1  to the staffroom , let the ss1 and jss 111 
   sweep the senior classes and the computer lab.
  I remember the motto is keep out impurity and clean 
   your school and the society at large?.

meet me on Route 66

Running away from dullness
Sneak riding without a helmet
Not caring about state rules
Loving my hair blowing behind me

Traveling west on Route 66
Because it has a lyrical feeling
And it travels through so many states
Wanting to be young one last time

Left my phone at home along with a note
And my pots, pans, and brooms
My husband will not be surprised
He met me on Route 66

Aftermath of Oz

The rubiest shoes, on display,
walked yellowest bricks all the way.
The emerald glows,
but Dorothy knows
the rainbow hues melting away.

A barrel of laughs in the night.
Ho hum after witchiest flight.
The bump on her head
does find her in bed.
The monkeys with wings out of sight.

The brains of a scarecrow she sees.
The heart of a tinman does freeze.
It does not make sense.
Her friends think she’s dense.
Yet, courage of lion, she frees.

She roars about witches on brooms
and colorful wizard that booms;
and munchkins not high,
and monkeys that fly.
A quack of a doctor resumes.

Popularity Contest’s Highest Bidder

As candidate of popularity contest
In generating school fund was like a test
I’ve witnessed my parents' full support
Selling big grilled chicken was their last resort.

We got lots of visitors who came to bid
My dad pleaded, “Please do this for my kid!”
From ten thousand pesos, old men bid higher
Closed at fifty thousand, I was the winner!

At School Foundation Day, they crowned me queen
Teachers bought brooms, dust pans and garbage bins
We thanked the rich man for buying our chicken,
In returned, he asked us to court my dad’s sister, Len.

Scary Halloween

Goblins and Ghosts 
haunting me
invading my thoughts
as I dream.

Witches on brooms
clowns looking mean
devils are dancing
skeletons scream.

Bodies lay bleeding
zombies abound
dead people rising
out of the ground.

Vampires suck on
bulging neck veins
disturbing these visions
that play in my brain.

Hallowed are graveyards
calm and serene
except on the night
we call Halloween.

Nights

Necklace around heaven, 
nose drinks from studded chill,
no fallen seed where she
named raven in her stars;
needless brooms how wash tears,
nor nightingale feat this
nigh movement in Sun's cast

Halloween Madness

ghoulish gray ghosts gather in Galloway Gallows
girls scouts come by with Hersheys and marshmallows
goblins and ghouls stand around in the moors
hoping one of them will drop their tasty Smores

wily wild Wisconsin witches whisk by on Brookside brooms
tormenting the others, flying in and out of the rooms
we normals are quick to make excuses and leave
purple purebred puritans provide plenty of peeve

• Short Brooms Poems
• Famous Brooms Poems
• Best Brooms Poems
• Read Brooms Poems
• Long Brooms Poems
• Brooms Quotes