Poetics and Musings

Ode 2

I fashion myself as Catullus
The way I toss myself at your feet
I would write one thousand lines
And then one thousand more
Just for the chance to kiss your form

I make myself up as Ovid
The way I cry out across distant sea
As Cupid stole his extra feet
I would stumble on shortened line
That I could sing of you to the divine

I truss myself up as Tibullus
The way I'd promise treasures of the earth
Even owning these I am bereft
And so to Venus for you do I pray
In exchange she could take those jewels away

I find myself echoing Lygdamus
The way I also pine from afar
The muses pluck my strings the same
Pledging their little yellow book
All that and more I do to get a second look

I pattern myself after Propertius
The way I find that forbidden door
What witchcraft drew me thus
Spells woven in the night
Oh that those words put my soul to flight

I wear the garlands of Sulpicia
The way I write for your eyes
The only regret is that we part
Passions left to stolen glances
And still I curse Dawn and her advances