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Sitting in the grass,
Looking up above,
Absorbing light just like a plant,
By staring at the sun.

Ball of fire blazing,
Hands clasping to pray,
In awe and wonder, crying out,
Worshiping the day.

With Kaleidoscopic eyes,
Blinking to see wild designs,
A cinema of abstract things,
Of rings and spots, of dots and strings,
Colors that no one has seen.

Boiling now like two egg yolks.
And your skin is toast.
Black and burnt your eyeballs fry.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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B. M. Stroud Claim this poet

I am a writer/theatre director from Mentor, Ohio who creates formless, experimental work; each project might be radically different from what has gone before it. My prime aim is to create work which feeds the imaginations of young people and gives them a memorable reading experience. I am interested in developing a series of the most simplistic books for children aged 4 and older, rooted in the abstract, philosophical and existential.My Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001420675472 more…

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    "Sun" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 19 May 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/85428/sun>.

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