Caveat: Poem #2860 “Gazing out from my window at the sea”

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A morning's drizzle paints the sea
 with spots and roundish dapples, green.
The gray, cold sky confounds, unfree.

A morning's drizzle paints the sea,
 while trees absorb the gray - that's key -
and fish and whales swim deep, unseen,

A morning's drizzle paints the sea
 with spots and roundish dapples, green.

– a triolet. This is something new – I’ve never tried this particular genre of short poem before. It’s pretty highly constrained, which I tend to like, but also repetitive by design, which I tend not to like.

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Caveat: Poem #2852 “Crossing the Pacific”

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Bands of purple line the sky up here 
beside our flight; below, Japan.
We'll leave the sun behind us,
and now insert ourselves, 
stealthy, like angels,
into the east
and darkness
and then
dawn.

Well, somewhere just south of Kamchatka,
I opted to boldly declare
a new, liminal approach:
an opposition to
exaggerations
of sentience,
and instead,
exist.
So.

Later, over the Aleutian chain,
there arose feelings of regret.
Baroque significations
unfurled their abstractions.
Inaccessible,
meanings were lost;
nothing left,
I sought 
sleep.

– a poem made of 3 nonnets enchained.

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