Allegory Writing: The Art of Philosophers. by aillin1, literature
Literature
Allegory Writing: The Art of Philosophers.
Allegory Writing: The Art of Philosophers
Allegory (a literary device) stands as a form of writing which contains two key traits; symbolism and imagery. These two traits, along with theme and setting, set a desired message(s) in the story; an underlining commentary.
This form serves as a philosophical literature form to express concepts and content in a more tangible fashion to the reader/audience. It serves as a relay for the philosophical message of the writer, whilst having a strong aspect of open-ended interpretation.
The key to writing allegory is to first set the desired message(s). It is important to note that allegory writing requi
We march in her defence!
On cours-battaile pour sa defense!
Towards the chaos,
We unite to face our attacker.
Our views be many,
We fight together to protect our home.
We fight for our land!
On battaile pour notre terre-même!
The Red and Blue united,
Yet reds and blues fight.
With hubris they march,
With determination we stand.
Dishonour beyond reason!
La merde!
Our courts lie in ruins
Burned to the ground.
Like dragon's breath is the eagle's cry.
Our homes burn under black smoke.
The fork has blasted a shout.
A warning of what is to come.
I command the sea!
La mers aux moi!
Shannon's cries demand yield.
Her opponent will give it.
Sh
The Creator born of light and dark,
Sworn in his interior world to leave his mark,
He sits on his throne performing his mission.
Knowing he shall die with the ceased flow of his visions.
He creates people, he creates lands.
Music and experiences fill his imaginative glands.
He gathers all which he has learned,
All that he has earned
And all that he has heard
To have the gears of his imaginative mind turn.
He sees ships travelling across the stars
And the casting of magic in lands afar.
He dreams of the future,
Scientific understanding and intelligent computers.
He dreams of technology that some may find impossible,
But his visions represen
I feel like the world is pressing down on my shoulders,
My sorrow witnessed only by the wind softly blowing across the window glass.
I am scarred, beaten and unable to remove the boulders,
Which are crushing me for the sins of my past.
I feel inclined to apologize to all I have caused pain,
I feel sometimes my words fall in vain.
I was born with a gift,
But it came with this curse.
I hang above this gaping rift,
Unable to bear the sight of this Herse.
I hear it in my ears.
Like the blowing of an endless whistle.
But one nobody else can hear.
I feel a soothing sensation in my veins,
But soon it will wain and I shall be left alone again.
Al