The Hunter

A bubbling cookpot over a fire

Diced meat and roots were stewing

Behind his red-rimmed tired eyes

Dark thoughts and storms were brewing

Back and forth the memories ran

In bleak shadows on his face

Lazy circles of a wooden spoon

Were in the cookpot traced

Screaming echoed in his mind

Those lost being lost again

Mechanically he raised his bowl

And spooned the thick stew in

All he loved was lost now

All his life was bled

Moonlight glinted on cold steel

As he tallied up his lead

Blood for blood he hunted

Through the land he crept

Those he sought would know him

And rue the tears he’d wept

The sun was not yet rising

When he pulled his small camp down

In the predawn chill and grey

He was a wraith without a sound

Coppyright Aarron Mondello

27/7/2018

Betrayal and Love

By Aarron Mondello

9/2/2018

Oh fair love in days of old
Left alone to wander
Treacherous words of iron cold
Tore two hearts asunder

Poisoned is the ear of man
Maiden lay to weep
East to west he roamed the land
Countless miles beneath his feet

Built he did a hall of bone
His heart grew cruel and hard
In the dark he sat alone
Cold ash upon his hearth

A full year gone and three days more
Maiden stood and dreamt forgiveness
She set off one morn to find his home
Somewhere in untamed wilderness

Withered with age the years saw them
When she came upon his path
All the empty years that lay between them
Did not age her love

Yet still he stood with eyes afire
As she hobbled to his steps
Then cooled with pity was his ire
When he saw how she was bent

Wrinkled lips of Maiden touch
To wrinkled cheek of cheated Man
On pearl white steps two hearts pass
Forever hand in hand

Penned by the hand of Ryal Heartsquill, romantic poet during the reign of King Roekard Thayne. Poet to the King. 


King Roekard Thayne was a romantic at heart and ever enjoyed stories and poetry of love lasting through the ages.

Ryal the poet came to the kings attention and King Roekard fell instantly in love with Ryal’s ability to take old tales and folklore and spin them anew with a strong theme of lasting love.

King Roekard named him Heartsquill and took Ryal into service until the end of the poets life.

©Aarron Mondello
8/2/2018

 

The Serpent

By Aarron Mondello

3/12/2017

The fork tongued serpent
With poison speech
Never repentant
As it seeks
To pour sickly honey
In your ears
And gain your loyalty
Through your fears
Spiting viscous lies
From its lips
While in disguise
It calmly sits
Feigning intentions
Pure and true
There will not be redemption
When it’s through
You’ll cast aside
Those close and dear
And draw the poison
Serpent near
Finally when
You’re brought down low
It’ll shed it’s skin
And let you know
It takes great delight
In your fall from grace
So stay vigilant for
The Serpents Face.

©Aarron Mondello 2017


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