Spinning Old Tales From Straw Poem by Paul Brookes

all these lines been said before
are property theft, though unintentional.
rain pours, petals fall limp
lying brown on red earth
among the rotting apples

dawns dies and redness creeps
furtive like a living vine.
setting fire to fells and fens alike;
lighting the sea in flames of desire.
oh yes these lines have been said before,
in thousand ways, by a million voices.

poetry is just the art of twisting the old
of weaving the hackneyed into different forms
making cables out of spider webs
or knitting with water, catching lightning in jars
oh yes that firey firmament rocks, shoots inept stars.

all these lines have been said before
just in different ways.
each of us thinks we are new, avant-garde
but we are just reinventing shadows.