Mad With Joy

Inspired by Sasha's post here

Write then,

Go; mad with joy of newborn day,

Or pup

Of lithesome grin of lad,

Of fresh-mown hay

Drink up

This cup where its air runs, rife

With un-penned poetry

And life is far too small to bear

In silent agony

So, write then

Mad with bliss, let life kiss you full

On the lips

Ere it slips to oblivion

Gossamer, an

Eclipse

Of moment over moment, lost

To past’s eternity

Of sad joy never madly snared

And bared in Poetry

© Janet Martin