Octavia Poem by Titus Llewellyn

Discussion between Octavia & Virgil

in an Anthenian mansion
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Ten-thousand sesterces grant you

for second, fourth and sixth recites,

how difficult donations too,

encourage worse for tensile nights.



My son to whom in death revives,

a trenchant honed on public praise,

be asked of you, if it survives

for gluttonies of worn out phrase.



And courage has no part to play;

between the rise and sunsets down

tonight though if it should outweigh,

the prospect from more tears to drown...



For sorrow hath encouraged more

beyond an eyefuls blur foresee

so weary detail solemn's core;

hast satiate such flaunt before.



How sympathy to dying seems,

it saturates the undue term

as wisely tending loosely themes,

inadequately held but firm.



A ghastly shame hath Virgil been,

inviting blame by brevity

assure thee that malaise within;

for inclined thought proclivity.



... you shall be Marcellus ellege

that overall paternal traits;

where draped is bound for privilege,

far worthier for cause translates.



And since the death of Sychaeus,

hath sworn esteems should fill extol

as clemency from of both of us,

should as indulged be wonderful.