The Witches Broom Poem by Michael Moorcroft

The Witches Broom



She ploughed through the sky,
With her 1.8 engine broom,
And put her foot down and screamed ‘oh my! ’
A nitrogen tank was fitted for that extra zoom.

The bristles customised to suit her mood,
An ipod docking bay – she could play her tunes,
A small compartment for her food,
The stereo player how loud they boomed!

A designer chair for her bum,
A stylish cup holder for her rum,
Leather hand holds for added grip,
The heated chair for an icy trip.

A sat nav installed – she never got lost,
Carbon fibre handle bars it weighed an ounce,
A Dixie horn fitted now who’s boss?
Through the sky how she would flounce.

She had taken it to the boys down town,
And had her broom pimped.


© Michael Moorcroft August 12th 2009

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bob Blackwell 19 August 2009

You forgot the oxygen, in case the pressure drops. Great tale of witches brew, Lady Macbeth would have been proud of you.

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