PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Inside the Briefing Room

You told me not to bother.

You said the sky’s falling and you’ve forgotten the memory of birds.

You said, in New Zealand, before the discovery of humans,

there were no predators and worry was a thing of the past.

You said the green leafs hold more weight that those brown ones and who was I to argue with facts.

You said the moons burnt out.

You said the suns on its way.

You said that mirror you smashed held more than bad luck and the pieces reflected your personalities.

You said the windows been left open - the bronze plate holds the cold.

You said you’d have the spiders assemble and march out on natures orders -

The tactful drum skins spray blood like paint as the beater keeps pace.

You said, in the summer you’ll dance with dragonflies and in the winter you’ll wait.

You said you were born to clean.

You said you’ve been doing it all your life.

You said there’d always be a need and safari was like watching the six o’clock news.

You said you’ve been this way for a long time; Lions wait with you, dressed as beavers, with stretched hind legs and paws ready to pounce

You said to ignore you, behind every painting is a post it note with my name on it and the date you wrote it – today.

You said, one day, you’ll see it too.