Sunburn, the poem
Buff, bronze, brown heather
Saddle, sandy, worn leather
The shade varies with the weather
Paleness after winter long,
Expose our skin except the thong
Passing hours, the tan gone wrong
Instead of brown we find it pink
Realizing we failed to think
Happy thoughts begin to sink
As the hours pass the skin turns red
Angry, painful, soon to shed
The plague of an unchecked warhead
Coconut oil or aloe gel
What will tame this living hell
Perhaps a glass of Zinfandel
Any cure, I'd surely try
My throat parched, lips dry
I won't, but feel like I'll die
Drinking water one by one
Cursing out the golden sun
Blaming it for crimping my fun
Time will pass as I heal
The nagging itch, ugly peel
Soaking in the tub of oatmeal
Back to scratch, my skin still white
Finally able to sleep at night
Realizing that I'll be alright
Weeks pass and the sun is high
Perhaps I'll give tanning another try
This time careful, so I don't fry
Comments
A brilliant poem. That looks painful. Ever since I discovered that I could no long tolerate direct heat I have purchase a sun umbrella. In the summer when I go out to enjoy the weather I sit under my umbrella.
Ouch, that brings back the memory of when I fried in the sun at an open-air concert. Never again have I fried like that again. A poem I can relate to well...it is so raw.
Ouch! It has been a long time since I suffered sunburn....but reading your poem and seeing the photo certainly brought back the pain and discomfort, Ralph. Well written poetry.
Great even brilliant poem! Interesting things seem to have to you. Have you recovered from the accident? You seem to have an incredibly strong will. Go easy.
Wonderful flow of poetry!
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