Strugglers

They’ve been broken

They’ve been bent

They’ve been left alone

They have spoken

To the memories

That lurk inside their bones

They’ve disdained

And reviled

Pushed at those who tried

They’ve felt shame

By their actions

And by themselves they’ve cried

They’ve reached out

Mended bridges

Found their feet again

They’ve screamed aloud

In frustration

Felt more than half insane

Fought their way

Back uphill

Apologies they’ve made

Tall and proud

They’ve accepted

The price that must be paid

They have struggled

With the search

And finally found their grin

Though it pained them

And exhausted

They’ve accepted all their sin

They’ve dragged themselves

From the mud

Scraped off all the oil

Cleansed the landscape

Of their souls

That silhouettes despoiled

They’ve stood bravely

With a straight back

And faced down every foe

Held the hands

Of an angel

As they fended off their woes

And while they struggle

Some days still

Bogged down in a mire

They found the spark

And the strength

To feed their growing fires

©Aarron Mondello

14/7/2018

The Empty House

By Aarron Mondello

13/12/2017

There’s a quiet street in suburbia
Where all the houses look the same
Except this one large empty place
Squatting at the end of a lane

The yard is grown six foot tall
With grass and prickly weeds
The wood is flaking the walls are cracking
Along their every seem

It sits so morbidly peaceful
Empty in the sun
Dirty windows like clouded eyes
Watching everyone

One day I pushed open the squealing gate
And walked down the broken path
Towards the clouded eye-windows
That stared out from the house

I walked around until I found a window
Not too high and slightly clean
Pressed my curious face against the glass
To see what might be seen

Dust motes danced in a bar of sunlight
Like tiny golden fairies
Intricate twirls to and unheard tune
Kaleidoscopic entities

Shifting dancing dapple shadows
Moved along the walls
A constant flux of colourless runes
Penned in shifting scrawls

An old rocking chair leaned like a drunk
In one corner gone all dusty
Faded flowers and vines marched up
The edge of cushions mildew and musty

I could not see the wallpaper print
It was torn and yellowed and stained
With black patches of growing mould
Dotting what remained

The door in the room was shut
So beyond I couldn’t peer
But the feeling I had from the abandoned room
Is not even mice came here

Muffled sound echoed through the house
To where I stood outside the room
Not carried well on still, dead air
Like air within a tomb

I gazed a moment longer
Through the dirty glass
And tried to imagine I saw walking
Reflections of the past

I walked away from the dirty window
My heart was racing fast
The house loomed large behind me
Alive, lonely and vast

I looked back when I reached the gate
And thought it all surreal
That such a large and empty house
Felt altogether unreal

Still today that house stands empty
Down a lane in a cul-de-sac
With its clouded window-eyes stands sentry
Silently guarding our backs.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image is a wallpaper, I couldn’t find an original artist

http://www.wallpapermania.eu/wallpaper/sunlight-through-the-broken-windows-old-house