Form: Ballade
They say no single thought is new
Like echoes carried on through time
Rehashed feelings remain true
As a poet plays words of rhyme
A childhood song of lemons and lime
It was oranges, that don’t fit
But still the words play without crime
Poetry can wander a bit
Words of love, some sensual and blue
Recalling a moment sublime
For she holds his heart that is true
And he says it again in rhyme
The same words still uniquely chime
Said over for the joy of it
For love there is always the time
Poetry can wander a bit
Memory recalls something new
Or just differently this time
Old thoughts in a shiny new hue
Perhaps borrowed from an old rhyme
Yet still works as if in its prime
And he thinks, a cigarette lit
Something blue, now that would be fine
Poetry can wander a bit
Recycling words, a poet’s crime
To work his rhyme and fancy shit
Rehashed, restyled, editing time
Poetry can wander a bit
©JG Farmer 2019
A Garret Poet 