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The Gulf in the Sea of Key

Tuscany shades and hues, thatched roof, dry
in a field that's whiskey clear;

pretentious are all my docile minutes
whose very moments l do fear.

Spreckled, twisted awnings gleam
so wildly beautiful to my eye;

the withered truth is replicated
'til it clearly tells a lie.

Afterwards, pressed coats and cardigans
become outfits in many ways;

they'll be lined-up and seen in the fog
just to clarify it's not a haze.

Semi-rusty lemon drops
stretch my pockets to the "full";

with a blatent sky so sea-worthy
it can honor every gull.

The churned up tide invests it's time
to wreak havoc with the sea;

tediously altering the smitten shore
and it's all played in the sea of key.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Editing stage: 


is this about the gulf war?

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

...I would hope the imagery would be a little more on the mark, you knw...darker...disturbing. No, it was just a descriptive celebration of the shores of the gulf of California. A day at the beach, as it were.
Is that the only instance you've ever heard someone mention a "gulf"?

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

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