Someone once asked me where I get inspiration for my writing.
I think this lightly edited poem written nearly 50 years ago may be the best answer I have.
And yes, those mad men do whisper still.
Whisperings of Mad Men
From when I was young, until even now
It seems they’ve always been there
From sorrow to joy, and hate to love
They’ve followed me everywhere
When thinking of you, or thinking of me
Or thinking nothing at all
When I’m in a crowd, or by myself
I constantly hear their call
They come and they go, and they linger on
And they beckon me away
They whisper to me, of sights unseen
And of times far from today
They speak of the past, and futures unknown
And wonders I’ll never see
Of eternal truth, and timeless lies
The world that was meant to be
Whether I gain fame, or die unknown
Or live till I’ve had my fill
The one thing I know, to count upon
Those mad men will whisper still
Copyright © 1976 and 2023 by Marcus L. Dean