Poseidon the Storm Chaser

Storms and rain race thy heart

Chasing typhoons day to day

Quickly Poseidon must depart

Whirling winds are his prey


Gales slowly whirling around

Whistling rushing past his ear

A grin forming due to the sound

The storm approaching very near


In the distance a whirling zephyr

Such a storm, Such a feat

One could not believe the pressure

With that his mission complete


Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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