Mad Men Poem by jodde taylor

They called them Mad Men,
the voices of verse and rhyme
released into the atmosphere
learning to climb.

Playing with words,
stories and fairy tales
building bridges between the seen and the unseen
growing planets in the forest.

Broadening days, with whispers of chains,
they said, no one will ever listen
so they hid in the internal combustion
of a human mind, turning and spinning
through years of time.

A vapour, a mystery,
with voyages a float
taken away, from the places they wrote
Druids and Bards, come lay down your horn,
but still verse escaped from the open air halls.

The Mad Men! The Mad! Men!
they've gotten away,
the words they will sing
shall have a lesson to pay.

From the tall Moonlit hours,
to the fine stubborn Sun
all things left forgotten
will soon come undone.

The hours! The hours!
we must let them go!
so they can bring reflection,
to each eye they know
beneath the heartache, and trembling snow
here come the Mad Men! ....
in silk ties and bows.

To always remind you,
of a small little town,
the place where all fairy tales
jump up! off the wild golden ground...