Cumbre Vieja


Lava pours
like ketchup
smoke shoots up
then down,
fire and brimstone
rolls downhill
to the little
Spanish town
Mother's tears
are flowing
all around,
death is rolling
slowly coming
turning green
to muddy brown
There is no place
of safety
the lava flow
and ash is
as boulders
tumble down
Over all
the end is looming
the hell unleashed
no mercy
no salvation
Eden leveled
to the ground.

◄ This Is Not Who We Are

Small Things ►


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Martin Elder

Mon 27th Sep 2021 11:32

Well stated in this poem.

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keith jeffries

Sun 26th Sep 2021 18:57

A good descriptive poem. I once visited the island; a beautiful place.

Thanks for this

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