The Broom

There was a broom
in the big room
near the attic
lying static

None used it
but it was fit
With a big stick
and easy to pick.

Why was it lying there?
in a place bare
No one knew
being nothing new.

The idle things
always stings
They need to be thrown
without a frown.

None does so
piling up in a show
things unwanted
in places most wanted.

Learn to condemn
and redeem broom
both in life material
and in abstract arterial.

Actions Poem thoughts

The Rat Is Dead.

ratThe tiny rat got into the room.
I tried to chase it with a broom.
It ran here and there in fear.
I ran everywhere.
The rat squeaked and cried.
However much I tried
I could not strike it.
It looked so agile and fit
Knowing not how to catch the rat
hesitantly gave a blow with a bat.
The rat fell down flat and swirled.
In a few minutes it lay dead.