Treasure Island

Bill Simmons


The Red Sun


Far across the waters
The wind and rain it gathers
Looks like a storm
The world has never seen

As all the world looks on
A hurricane moves on
Did you not see
The red sun it bleed

Far across the horizon
Before the night fall ends
Before the break of day
Where the sun has always been

I looked and I could see
Didn’t know what it did mean
Did you not see
The red sun it bleed

Can you not see
The sun it has changed
Can you not see
The sun it’s not the same

In the twilight of the dawn
As the whole of the world looks on
Can you not see
The red sun it bleed.



Copyright 2006 Bill Simmons
aka BillWilliamStar
BillWilliamStar@aol.com

Submitted: Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Edited: Saturday, August 14, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Red Sun by Bill Simmons )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Tachyon Mind, Maharishi Deja Vu
  2. Suicide, Michael Shutt
  3. i would so come and give without taking..., Mandolyn ...
  4. As we want child, hasmukh amathalal
  5. The Zoo Keeper, Maharishi Deja Vu
  6. Undiminished, Maharishi Deja Vu
  7. Finish This List Of Chores, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  8. Good circle, hasmukh amathalal
  9. Live with this moment, gajanan mishra
  10. The loss may be, hasmukh amathalal

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]