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Maritime Melancholy For miles the coastline reaches; ragged weathered-worn fingers, stretching, extending outward, plunging sporadically into frigid, fog-grey waters. Mist and tide intertwine, swirling, melding into shrouds of achromatic color, broken only by the habitual flight of the gulls. The foghorn's eerie wail seeping slowly, purposely, penetrating the brumous atmosphere; distant, dismal, and despairing, mournful, melancholy, in its mood. |
Additional Notes:
This poem was submitted last month, I am entering it again with spelling corrections, and different punc. I used the word "brumous" to describe the atmosphere because I think that it is approperiate in this poem, it reminds me of the sound that the tide makes when hitting the coastline.."brumous means, filled with fog or mist".
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