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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?

Neopoet is a workshop. Poets take the time to read and think about your work and offer suggestions.
There is no obligation to make any changes however please acknowledge critique and comments.

...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"?

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david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

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