Lynn W. Petty

Gold Star - 5,245 Points (3/29/28 / Newport Beach, California)

Lynn W. Petty Poems

1. I Think Well Of Her 12/20/2015
2. How Deep Our Memories Lie 12/21/2015
3. The Creation Of A Single Composition 12/22/2015
4. Her Name Is Poetry 12/24/2015
5. Her Hands 1/5/2016
6. Valor 1/8/2016
7. From A Painting Of A Spanish Gypsy Girl 1/3/2016
8. What Is A Poet? 1/9/2016
9. The Grand Scheme Of Things 1/10/2016
10. Embraced By Conscious Force 1/14/2016
11. A-2-Leonidas King Of Sparta 1/16/2016
12. Rows Of Dodder Gray 1/17/2016
13. Ballad Of Bodie 1/17/2016
14. The Shadows Of Thought 1/20/2016
15. Sara's Garden 1/20/2016
16. To The Patriarch Of Our Family, James J. Reina, My Father-In-Law 1/20/2016
17. On Being A Grandfather 1/23/2016
18. Time Is A Feline 1/24/2016
19. Life Is The Soil 1/25/2016
20. An Abyss Of Faith 1/25/2016
21. Speechless Sorrow 1/27/2016
22. Before It Becomes Too Late 1/27/2016
23. I Walked The Walk 1/27/2016
24. Wake Within Your Dreams 1/29/2016
25. The Question Of Someone In Blue 1/29/2016
26. Aa-1-Forward 1/30/2016
27. A-3-Arellius Fuscus 1/30/2016
28. A-4-Porcius Latre 1/31/2016
29. A-5-Marillu 1/31/2016
30. A-6-Pompeius Silo 1/31/2016
31. A-7-Cornelius Hispanus 1/31/2016
32. A-8-Quintus Of Tagea 1/31/2016
33. A-9-Blandis 1/31/2016
34. A-10-Simonides 1/31/2016
35. A-11-Postscript 1/31/2016
36. Frozen In Summertime 2/6/2016
37. I Know, I Know, I Know 2/7/2016
38. The Mount Is You 2/7/2016
39. What's A Father For? 2/7/2016
40. Grieve Not 2/11/2016

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Best Poem of Lynn W. Petty

A Question Of My Own Mortality

Time seemed interminable.
A curious and inexplicable apprehension came over me,
As I sat in an elderly care home waiting to visit a friend.
The atmosphere was heavy with quiet confusion.
People wandered about searching and shifting in a
Sort of stolid acquiescence. Their lives recalled as flashes in memory, projecting film images on their thick, gray screen of dementia.
Across from me sat an elderly gentleman whose gaze was a glassy
Expression of inattention. I could see the declinations of his skull
Beneath his facial features. A victim of the grievous ...

Read the full of A Question Of My Own Mortality


When all supply was in the hands of Cause,
Effect was molten primal chaos, held
Within a universal cauldron, rest
Was given to consider what the blend
Would yield. What distillation might there come
When left to steep upon the flame of time?

What essence to be poured or spooned, when time
Had separated dross and grime; when Cause

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