After The Man With The Blue Guitar
by Jonathan Beale
What enters in, still enters in
The superfluous guitar of things exactly as they aren’t.
The mind, the eye, the psyche, the…
If we’re not author, then subject?
Sat there in blind reflection. The beginning
As Nebulous as the clouds, and as free
As you nail your thought across the door
As I learnt , briefly to touch once more
The mood – green?
Music exceeds – surpassed
Why everything is as it could
Under the spell of a serenade
The masses, the senses; the mass senses
As all those whose DNA this has permeated
Rebirth. New life. Another being
Yet plays things as me must.
Moments past in this eloquent game
Everything different, everything the same.
Just the last line remains the same
The thread is picked.
Leading on to green days
Where we and them – play the same tune.
Jonathan Beale has had his work published in over sixty journals including Danse Macabre, Bluepepper, Mad Swirl, Ygdrasil, Red Wolf Editions, Sheepshead Review, Poetry 24 et al. He is also published in two anthologies, Drowning and The Poet as Sociopath (Scar publications). And one to be published, Do not be afraid, a small anthology dedicated to Seamus Heaney. His first book of poetry The Destinations of Raxiera (Hammer and Anvil) in November 2015.
He lives in Surrey U.K.