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The Spill

We sat on our spot
The backwash embankment,
Bald Eagles perched
On tree bones petrified
Over lush lily pads

But reminisce of the Gulf,
Times we spent there
Everything clean and bright

Our hearts often
Went speechless,
Visions of tropical life
Falling into a deep depression
-storms approached

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Wishing to visit the Gulf one more time. Thinking about the big oil spill there years ago.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Bukowski loved that, the suggestion of changing just one word perhaps or a bit of punctuation if absolutely necessary.
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author comment

Hi Mark, that was a real tragedy, among so many others, the oil spill in the Gulf.
Your poem transmits longing but also peace. I like the ending even though it mentions storms to come. No nits at all, only admiration for your skill.
All the best, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

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white beaches and the sand spurs lol. I've not been back in over 60 years.......So many places I'd like to revisit and so little time to do so, Try starting second stanza wit But to clarify the change in location between present and past

if that's even possible.

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