Amour Propre Poem by Titus Llewellyn

II


Though, I am the incentive of oneself,
to whom one loves, devotion cannot touch
that he may look upon me like an elf;
who spoke of fairytales he may well clutch.
Reflect a worth to mention to your friends,
an arm to hold on still engulfs my dreams,
in ardour let me look, the mirror seems
a trifle clouded still, see what transcends?
I feel a soul's lost cause than getting close,
to something that resemblance cannot lie
let beauty gauge the wealth of one supply
of virtue to the compliment it chose.
To whom the word was said, I am a dish,
cannot for any reason grant that wish!


II

And wishes have that once elusive show,
of envy that these other woman know
seduce their men with beauty and austere
can any other touch this earthenware?
An ornament, a realm to the abode;
that literature might make as soon an ode.
can paradise select what hast been shared
mistook the fake for fairytales prepared.
How gracious can benevolence be grand,
we bow or curtsy both towards the hand
god given view of mercy, lucky you!
who once upon a time led most accrue:
Not once can I remove the sight of eyes,
to whom one may give worship to you guys!