Thank you

I want to take this moment to thank each and every one of you who read, like or share my words.
With around 400 people following my work across Facebook, Instagram and here on WordPress I have, in some way, touched more people than I honestly ever thought I would and in turn I have been touched and blessed by your support.
You have all helped me grow in confidence within myself in a way I find hard to express and words are not something I usually find a lack of.
So Thank You, everyone, truly and sincerely.
I hope you continue to find my poetry worthy of your affection ❤
– Aarron Mondello

The Poetess

 

 

The Poetess in her overalls
On a stump atop a hill
A breeze ruffling through the grass
Though all else around is still

 

Her head is tilted back
Staring up at cloudless skies
Visions of her life
Flash across her eyes

 

In her hand she holds a pen
A book rests upon her lap
A graceful flowery hand
Covers pages front and back

 

Her mouths hangs wide and open
Her soft singing on the wind
Notes becoming letters
As they spiral through her pen

 

The letters splash like waves
In shifting changing whirls
Forming graceful poetry
As her many tales unfurl

 

Her poems grow slowly stronger
Carrying her pain away
Painting happy memories
In a light as bright as day

 

She sat in timeless stillness
Until every page was full
Put down her book, walked away
And followed heavens pull

 

©Aarron Mondello
6/6/2018

Where I am

I took a break from writing, which means I did it less

Slipped a little into hiding, all my written words

I began to learn a new skill, to make my poems pop

Old and new I edit for an hour or two, and find I can not stop

I started up an Instagram, worked hard at sharing words

Gained a little following, by posting older verses

My audience is slowly going, but where my path is going

I have no real way of knowing, so I’ll just keep on rowing

Through this rainbow river of time, the one flows through all our minds

And keeps fresh creative juices flowing

©Aarron Mondello

28/2/2018

So, basically, I have taken the pen out of my ear and the scrap paper out of my pocket and spent a few weeks working on making my own backgrounds out of my own photos.

Not only to learn how and to make my writing more eye catching on other forums but also to make them more appealing in general .

I have a long way to go before I am actually good at editing my photos but I feel like its making a good difference.

I want to thank everyone who has ever read my words, or ever will. But especially I’d like to thank those of you that read everything I post. Your support has been astonishing.

I will still be posting here and soon it will be as regular as it ever was. But I’m taking just a little more time to work on the photos too.

In the meantime, feel free to follow my facebook page (link can be found on my profile) or my instagram aarronmondello.

Keep writing.

 

Doubts and questioning.

Hi everyone. Those of you who read my poetry may have noticed I’ve not posted anything for a few days. There is a reason for this .

I was told a few days ago, from someone close to me, that my poetry (although decent) would not attract much of an audience due to the fact that they are for the most part little stories. O need to start to writing about trending topics, emotions, draw an audience through empathy. Indeed, I saw truth to their words. My facebook page may gain 400-600 views of any single post after sharing and yet only about 2-4 people on average like it and none usually comment.

This shook me quite a bit because I was never one for sharing my writing until recently. And so I put my pen down for a few days and fell to doubting myself and my ability.

But you guys have read more of my works than any body else. So basically I am here today to ask your thoughts. I’m at a place where I feel like reverting to my old habits of writing and hiding it. But I don’t really want to do that.

So if I may ask your opinion, would you like me to keep sharing?

Is my style lacking something?

Do you have any suggestions on how I could improve my writing and my audience?

I hope to hear from you about this. I’m doubting my drive right now .

Thank you.

Thank you all.

Hi all, this is a little late, I meant to put this up a few days ago but as often happens life attacked my days and I found it getting put off again and again. But here it is. My most honest and heart felt Thank You! to everyone who has read my words and followed me here.

I can’t remember the exact date I started this blog but it was around 2-3 months ago. The day I started it was one of my most exhilarating and scary days I’ve had. I am what would typically be labelled an “introvert” and putting myself out there as I have here was a HUGE step.

Now I have reached just over 40 wonderful followers and that is already a lot more than I honestly expected! My confidence in my words and myself has grown tenfold thanks to this endeavor. And I have everyone one of you to thank for that.

I am unsure if any of you will know just how much you have helped me by simply following and reading my words. You are all like gods and I worship you all.

THANK YOU!!!

My world is growing

First of all I would like to extend my utmost gratitude to the people who have followed me during the last couple of months. There are a few of you who I see have read almost every one of my poems and that is truly a profound experience for me personally. You have my undying gratitude. 

Now, I have been writing poems and short stories for over twenty years and only about three months ago finally found the courage to start sharing them. It has been, and still is, a scary ride. A lot of my words hold deep meaning to me and to open them to an actual audience is frightening, yet exhilarating. I find I am almost addicted to it now and despise the days when life prevents me from writing or sharing with you all. And at this time of year those days seem plenty. At least to me.

I would ask a favour of any who do read my words though. A small one. I would like critique. Constructive criticism, if you may. As much as I truly appreciate the likes and follows, I have spent most of my life hiding from the world at large and would greatly love to know what you think of my words.

And now to the subject of my title. My World Is Growing. In April 2017 I was consumed by a tale that needed to be told, one I have not yet shared here. It was a feverish need to get this story out over the course of four days. Surreal to remember now how every moment I had a pen in my hand writing it. And the few times I could not actually put words down my mind was racing and over flowing with the words that came next.

For the most part, over those four days, I had no idea what I was writing and often stopped to exclaim surprised to my lovely lady “Holy crap! He found a boat half buried in the ice!” Or “He is the blood of Vor’Dalee!” She had little idea what I was talking about. Until it was finished I would not share much of what I had written to even her.

With the courage I have gained since starting this blog and my facebook page I have begun to build this world further. And it is growing. Calling to be coloured and asking that soon I share it with others.

I have you all to thank, anyone who has ever read anything I have written, for the courage to build this growing world.

I look forward to the day I begin to share the world of Galdenya with you and hope with all my heart you enjoy seeing it as much I have enjoyed carving it from the block of my mind.

Thank you all. May you have a safe New Years and a prosperous 2018.

Thank you.

Aarron Mondello

31/12/2017


Image is my pages waiting for me to fill them and the sword with which I carve my worlds.

Awake and Dreaming

By Aarron Mondello

15/11/2017

 

It’s 10:15 am in Western Australia as I sit down at my ancient computer and begin to type this.
the laughter (and sometimes screams) of two of my four children echo down the hallway. the sounds of them at play in their room. One of them is sick, or at least was last night so he is home from school today.

The sun shining through the large dining room window just above me and to my right is filtered through a sizeable tree in my backyard and casts dancing lights and swaying shadows across the table I sit at and the clutter of notebooks and pens, folders and files that lie strewn around my monitor. Most of it is mine, words and works I have penned over the years. A lot of it recently.

The day is set to reach a rather warm 34 degrees celsius.
Yet as comforting as the mid-morning light is, as normal and relaxing the sounds of my children at play are, there is this shadow resting in the back of my mind.
Just sitting there doing nothing for the most part. However it does surge forward occasionally, just to remind me it’s there, I think.

It’s the shadow of a dream I had last night. At least I think it was a dream. It felt very real.

From the moment I (thought I) woke up every sensation, every movement was as real as the feeling of the keyboard that is now at my fingertips.

I sat up with a jolt, choking and suffocating. My mouth had filled with saliva so much so that I felt I had taken a mouthful of water and was holding it behind my lips. Something small and hard moved around in the pool of saliva though I didn’t know if it moved of its accord or my abrupt sitting motion had set it to shifting.
All I knew was that I had to spit it out, NOW!

I crawled to the foot of my bed, my lovely lady asleep and unaware of my movements. But I felt light, slow and seemed to almost float each time I lifted a limb from the mattress.
Finally I gained the end of the bed and attempted to simply step off the bed and onto the narrow strip of floor between it and our wardrobe.
I floated slightly up into the air and performed a half somersault in the air. My back came to rest softly against the wardrobe door with my head facing down. I rolled over and crawled my way down the wardrobe grunting and trying to get the attention of my sleeping lady without opening my mouth and releasing a torrent of spittle. She did not even stir.

Hellbent on making it down the hallway to the bathroom (the feel of this little hard thing in mouth was revolting) I began to crawl towards the bedroom door. It was hard going as every time I made any movement an apparent lack of gravity would seek to pull me into the air. When I finally made it to the door my heart sunk, the bedroom door was closed and I would have to stand to reach the handle.

At this point I grew confused, unsure if I was awake or asleep. I could feel the carpet beneath my hands and knees, hear my lady and my children snoring in the depths of their sleep, but we never close the bedroom door at night and for some reason finding it closed scared me and threw my whole mind into uncertainty. Before here, I had KNOWN I was awake (as far as I was concerned) and the floating lack of gravity was something to be explained at a time I was not at risk of drowning in my own saliva.
But the door being closed..? Now THAT was truly strange.

I placed one hand on the cold wood of the door began walking the other up towards the handle, all my concentration focused on not leaving the ground in this strange world where bedrooms had closed doors.
After an eternity I wrapped my fingers around the handle, pulled it down and dragged the door open.

Here is where I began to fear truly.

There was a pulling sensation, but that isn’t quite right. I couldn’t feel anything. Nothing gripped me, no wind blew me, and yet sure enough my feet lifted from the floor and no matter how hard I tried to fight against it I was slowly rolled over in the air so I was facing down and I began to float through the door, feet first.
I tried call out then, no longer caring if I spilled what felt like an impossible amount of saliva from my mouth.
But I could only gurgle, like someone yelling underwater. Large globs of saliva floated freely in front of my face. Sadly, the small hard thing was still in my mouth and as much saliva poured out of my mouth it was instantly replaced.
I tried to grip the door frame with fingers that felt fat and unbendable.
My greatest fear in that moment was that I would be pulled past the bathroom door and unable to remove this foreign object from between my cheeks.
Over and over I tried to call out. Slowly I floated uncontrollably down the hallway.
As my shoulders passed the bathroom door Panic overtook me and I squirmed and flailed as much as I could in a vain attempt to get through the door and expel this disgusting something down the
 drain.

I don’t recall making the decision the wake up, as I have often in the past when gripped by waking nightmares. I don’t recall struggling to sit up so hard that for hours (sometimes days) after my stomach muscles hurt.
I do recall a strange sensation of swimming up. When I was a kid my friends and I would swim to bottom of the deep end in the local swimming pool, touch a silver plate fixed in the floor and swim back to the surface. This sensation felt exactly like that.
But I do recall bolting upright in bed, confused and unsure as to how I got there from the hallway. Even more confused about my mouth so dry that my lips were sticking to my teeth.
I don’t know how long I sat there trying to puzzle out what had just happened but eventually I became aware of my lovely lady rubbing my leg and asking me over and over if I was okay, reassuring me it was just a dream.
I told her what had happened, what I felt.
“I should really know by now that if you’re groaning in your sleep you’re not long away from sitting up suddenly and scaring the shit out of me” she told me.

I found out this morning that we had been in bed maybe twenty minutes, maybe not even that long and my lovely lady had not even fallen asleep yet despite me hearing her snoring and being unable to get her attention.

And reading this back to myself it doesn’t even seem that scary. But last night when I found the bedroom shut, while I was faced with the very real prospect of being unable to spit that small, hard whatever-it-was down the drain, then it was more terrifying and unnerving than the sudden disappearance of gravity.

This truly happened to me last night, and many other strange yet similar occurrences on many other nights in the past.
I just wanted to share it.

On my dark days

via Dubious

By Aarron Mondello

14/11/2017

When the minutes are long and the hours unkind

I seek the dubious safety of my mind

Alas! So many horrors in my memories

My first instinct is to flee

So here I sit outside my head

Neither alive nor living dead

Like a feather I float lifeless on a breeze

No safe haven for me this day it seems.

©

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/11/14/dubious/

I’ve never seen snow

By Aarron Mondello

14/11/2017

 

The sun rises clear
In a cool blue sky
White mist coats the land
A pristine blanket
So peaceful to behold

Dew drops glisten
On all the leaves
Like tiny pure
Diamonds sparkling
Gems amidst the cold

Snow fox cubs leap
Wrestling in the snow
A squirrel titters
Twitching whiskers
Storing acorns in its hold

A hare as pure white
As the snow covered ground
Thumps its leg in delightful praise
Unbeknownst to him a grey wolf prowls
Her hunger barely controlled

A spotted deer
Plays and leaps
Mother marching sedately along
Under the round watchful eyes
Of Mr White owl wise and old

I’ve not seen the snow before
Never walked a peaceful tundra
Only in my dreams and mind
Have I stood amongst the falling flakes
I know it only from stories told.


I would so love to walk in the snow one day before its my time.

 

Featured image found at http://download-wallpaper.net/content/snowy-landscape-by-neercs.html

A Mother’s Rhyme

By Aarron Mondello

13/11/2017

A cry a whimper
You have nothing to fear
Squirming agitated
Mummas here
Hush now little one
Don’t you fret
Hush now darling
Never forget
All your life
You’ll have me
To make you feel as
Happy as you can be
I’ll care for you
And teach you all
You need to know
To get up from a fall
In your veins
Mothers blood pumps
From my heart
Pure love runs
You’ll always have
A piece of me
To help your wounded
Spirit free
To move on
From hard times
This I swear
In a Mother’s Rhyme.


Featured image: Mother Berthe Holding Her Baby by Mary Cassatt.