The Shadows Of Thought Poem by Lynn W. Petty
The Shadows Of Thought
I stand In the shadows of thought,
Devoid of the art of thinking;
Assembling meaningless words
In rows of senseless creation.
Non-sequiturs written on paper;
Fragments of flowery language
In solecistic bunches.
Visualizing bouquets of wild flowers,
My writings are fields of ragweeds.
Beauty confused with untruths.
I, a poet? I, a poet?
A dream of a consummate youth,
When altruism coursed through my veins;
Blood was the spillage of cause.
Life was the serving of purpose; purpose
The singing of life.
Under the incubus of false hope,
Poetry is fata Morgana,
Radiant in isolated light,
A mirage. The Morgan le Fay
Of my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 12:15:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Morgan le Fay From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Morgan le Fay /ˈmɔːrɡən lə ˈfeɪ/, alternatively known as Morgan le Faye, Morgen, Morgaine, Morgain, Morgana, Morganna, Morgant, Morgane, Morgne and other names, is a powerful enchantress in the Arthurian legend. Early works featuring Morgan do not elaborate her character beyond her role as a fay or sorceress. She became both more prominent and morally ambivalent in later texts, in particular in cyclical prose works such as the Lancelot-Grail and the Post-Vulgate Cycle, in which she turns into a dangerous enemy of King Arthur and is an unpredictable antihero and antagonist of some tales. even if i looked up more stuff from the poem, i'd not have a firm grasp of its meaning. of that i am sure. but i bet you had a bit of fun writing it. or perhaps frustration? both? bri :)