Literature written in prison

Literature written in prison.

The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of paine,
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
And now I die, and now I was but made.
My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

Le Morte d'Arthur

Mallory had quite an interesting albeit only loosely chronicled life. He probably wrote Arthur in prison for a string of robberies, rapes, break-ins, theft, extortions etc. AFTER he was a member of parliament.

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Lover of the Ursa Major by Sergiusz Piasecki

Cervantes, Wilde, Genet

For my Legionnaires -Codrenau

parts of The Cantos of Ezra Pound

Bertrand Russell loved prison, confirmed NEET