‘Sleeping Infant’

The dome fiercely rumbled
and made its anger known.
Steam rose in valley crags,
melting off crested snow.

The ice peaks shook violently
from stress contained too long.
Deep within the conflict raged.
The desire to erupt was strong.

Pockets of built-up pressure,
demanding release and escape.
Where no open path existed
It desperately sought one to take.

Violent fissures formed on top
threatening with fury to explode.
Volcanic vents opened to cope
and down molten lava flowed.

The last tantrum was savage
but for now the mountain sleeps.
Do not wake the terrible infant;
for the price to pay is steep.


About Bo Bandy

Just a creative soul trapped in a world of cookie-cutter pragmatism...
This entry was posted in Children's Stories, Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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