Jonathan Beale ~ 1965

Then, they spoke of ‘the time’
An ease that was labour
Things took, their own sweet time

That rotten fruit schizophrenia hung
From the furthest branch
Hanging over the neighbour’s garden

Once the grammar line
Offered bait for a tomorrows
Tomorrow.

The flourishing suburbia
Now taken root, fully
The sun always rises and never dies

They were ‘when the tome comes’
Placing their laurels before the cemetery
At the first and last gates.

 

Jonathan Beale’s work has appeared regularly in Decanto, Penwood Review, The Screech Owl, Danse Macabre, Danse Macabre du Jour, Poetic Diversity, and also; Voices of Israel in English, MiracleEzine, Voices of Hellenism Literary Journal, The Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Down in the Dirt, & (Drowning: Down in the Dirt July 13) The English Chicago Review, Mad Swirl, Poetry Cornwall, Leaves of Ink, Ariadne’s Thread, Bijou Poetry Review, Calvary Cross, Deadsnakes Review, The Bitchin Kitsch, The Dawntreader, I am not a Silent Poet, Pyrokinection, Festival of Language, ‘Don’t Be Afraid: An Anthology to Seamus Heaney’ and Ygdrasil. He was commended in Decanto’s and Café writers Poetry Competitions 2012. And is working on a collection for Hammer and Anvil. He studied philosophy at Birkbeck College London and lives in Surrey England.
dm29z
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