Too Late

By Aarron Mondello

21/12/2017

It’s too late for the rain to fall
Down on a child’s tomb
Like tears wetting heavens floor
Soak into her earthen womb

It’s too late for the moon to light
The path for its nighttime kin
For here he sits in his room alone
Fresh cuts upon his skin

It’s too late for the sun to shine
Down on an old man’s face
Confused, scared and alone
He does not recall this place

It’s too late for the wind to blow
The hair of a sickly mother
One last time she closes her eyes
On this world and flies to another

But it’s not too late for those who are left
Behind to mend their hearts
For though the soul is now bereft
They remain forever in the hearts.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image https://www.deviantart.com/art/Too-Little-Too-Late-106576553

Little Darklings

By Aarron Mondello

17/12/2017

 

“What is a Darkling?”
I hear you ask
Well it’s a little shadow-child
Wearing a little shadow-mask
Flitting running
Through the trees
Blending in
Barely seen
Tittering laughter
Follows behind
These little imp-wraiths
As they hide
From all who come
Near to them
For Darklings everything
Holds fear for them
“Are they evil?”
You enquire
No more evil
Than burning fire
They have a power
In their heart
A power some will
Seek to covert
“So they have magic?”
You seem confused
“They ARE magic”
I say, amused
Their very shifting
Shadow form
The essence from which
Magic is born
They have no use
Of their own
For the power set
Within their bones
A cup of water
Can’t drink itself
As the Darklings
Can cast no spells
“So they are good?”
How to explain
Would you put alignment
To a flame?
Neither nice
Or evil things
They just are
Little Darklings
“Are they real”
Your voice goes soft
Not any more
I scoffed
People hungered
For their power
And hunted them
To their final hour
Now no more
Do they flitter
Through the Shadows
Running thither
Their end was long
Brutal and violent
Their old homes
Now lay ever silent
Beautiful shadows
Always laughing
Their only downfall
Was being Darklings.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image: A Rustle and a Murmur by moppaa

https://www.deviantart.com/art/A-Rustle-and-Murmur-442059115

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silent/”>Silent</a&gt;

Old Mothers End

By Aarron Mondello

11/12/2017

 

Grey clouds racing through the night sky
Over darker lands below
Where death stalks every quivering creature
And only twisted things grow

In the centre of this dead land
Lies a Forrest dark and brooding
With a small clearing at its heart
Where stands a willow tall and drooping

A patch of green here and there
Still shone amongst her branches
Though mostly Mother willow had succumbed
To poisonous sickly advances

At the base of her gnarly roots
Sat an elderly elven fellow
More bones and skin no meat on him
His face gone gaunt and sallow

Every day from dawn till dusk
He laboured with his hands
At his feet sat crystal vials
A dozen all on stands

He drilled the trunk of Mother Willow
And drained her healthy sap
Twisting the drill to bore a hole
Then knocking in a tap

There was not much healthy sap
Left to drain out of she
For nearly dead, on her last legs
Was this mammoth willow tree

But old man elf remembered
A time before the dark
When Mother Willow sang to the moon
As the children climbed her bark

So now he sat and cried
Silently as he drilled her trunk
The dead lands all about them
Echoed with his mallets thunk

Sweating and tired and nearly done
He stopped to take a breath
Old Mother Willow whispered her thanks
Then finally gave in to death

Her last green leaves withered up
Right before his eyes
Her brown bark turned to ashen grey
As he howled sorrow at the skies

She was the last, he is the last
This garden of eden no more
He packed his vials of her precious sap
And left for brighter shores

None can say how his road travelled
As he searched horizons far
But you can see the vials of Mother Willows
Sap as all the stars

And still the grey clouds race
Over that land twisted and dead
Where in every valley or mountain range
Stalk countless eyes of dread.

Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image

https://www.claudemonetgallery.org/Weeping-Willow-Giverny.html

The Ruined Halls

By Aarron Mondello

10/12/2017

Shadows crawled
Across the walls
Wearing the face of men
The broken bricks
Laying thick
About the rotted floors
Broken glass
Twinkling shards
Still hung in every window frame
And through the ruin
To a sombre
Sung by the wind a’howling
Trapped forever
Always dancing
Moved the Shades of the Past

Forrest marching
Ever closer
Towards the cracked brown walls
Wood beams rotting
Gaping chasms
Where termites ate the floors
Bleached white bones
Of little creatures
Stacked in one quiet corner
Yawning mouths
Leading deeper
Rot has devoured all the doors
Still, trapped forever
Always dancing
Moved the Shadows of the Past

Where flowers grew
In every hue
Now was dry and barren
And the path
Out the front
Was all but overgrown
Any gardens
That ever grew
Have long been choked by lawn
Only crows
Live in the beams
And shadows of the attic ruins
While trapped forever
Always dancing
Moved the Shades of the Past

Where little children
Used to run
Now there is only settled dust
All the halls
The voices stilled
Have become the den of rodents
Nothing left
All is gone
Gone to rubble, ruin and rust
Yet through the ruin
To a sombre tune
Sung by the wind a’howling
Trapped forever
Always dancing
Moved the Shadows of the Past.
©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image: The Ruin Hall by Ehsartem

https://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Ruin-Hall-473606705

Memories of a place

By Aarron Mondello

6/12/2017

It’s funny how a place
Can bring clarity of the mind
Sent across the ages
From a Once Upon A Time

Walking through this place
I’m assaulted by the past
Some memories I wish would fade
Some I’m glad still last

As the winds blow up a song
A ode to yesteryear
I realise I no longer belong
In any space around here

Familiar faces seen
Staring right through me
I’ve outgrown this place
And it’s moved on from me

And where once I thought
Coming here would leave me
Anxious and distraught
I am feeling light and free

For in this place of the past
My heart no longer rests
And while my memories here will last
I like my hearts new home the best.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image Bussleton Jetty, western Australia

A message to a stranger

By Aarron Mondello

4/12/2017

Yesterday I was the bus with my two young daughters (aged 11 and 8) and my brother. An indigenous man got on the bus not long after us. One of my daughters was sitting behind me and when I turned to talk to her he began abusing me and my brother for being racist and disrespectful towards him.

Let’s get this straight, as far as I am concerned, the colour of you skin means fuck all. I don’t care about your race, religion, background or past, of you’re a danger to my children I’ll seek to extract them.

Late last night I became very angry (and ashamed at myself if I’m honest) at the man who took it upon himself to terrify my kids and I and I wrote him a message.

This is not a racial slur or an attempt to vilify a race. This purely how I felt about what happened and the man involved.


A message to a stranger

You’re yelling at me about the injustice
Suffered by your kin
But here’s a thought and just for a moment
Maybe you could fucking listen
To the words of the people just trying to get by
The people who have done you no wrong
But no! Your to busy feigning to cry
And singing the the same rehashed song
As a hundred before you who were treated like shit
I get it you bloody mad
I would be to if I’d suffered like you
But wait a second, I have!
Beaten and ridiculed shamed and rejected
Reviled and then stepped upon
And here i sit and yes I’m pissed off
But only at those who did me wrong
It’s not my fault so many don’t care
You just singled me out of the crowd
I don’t even know why perhaps just because I was there
But your actions were oh so wrong
You terrified my kids
And if I’m being honest, I was pretty scared too
But take a step back and look at the picture
Because I have done nothing to you
I write this down the things I am feeling
Towards an abusive stranger
The angry young man who while I was I traveling
Made me feel like I was in real danger
I mean, seriously bloke look at yourself
Abusing a family just because you can
Just like you I can’t choose my skin tone
It’s not my fault I was born a white man
And my children! They have done even less than I
Innocent and learning with you as an example
Accusing me of teaching them to be racist
You’re lesson was more than ample
You think I’m the one teaching them to fear you
While unleashing your anger so pure
In those ten minutes you taught them more than I
And it wasn’t to respect you at all
Did I ask them to move away from your anger
Yeah I did but it wasn’t because of your colour
I would have got them to move out of your harms way
Regardless of your colour
How do you think they felt as you threatened
To kidnap them or beat up their dad
What kind of image do you think they’ll now see
After you leaned across them to slap my face
Is your hatred of me justified?
Hell no it isn’t
Because what harm have I actually caused
None to you or any of your people
We were just a family on the same bus
So you’ll never read this and I don’t care
The ether can have my message
Because the way you acted as I sat with my daughters
Has caused irreparable damage
To the way my kids now view your kin
You want to know why some of us fear?
It comes from people like you.

©Aarron Mondello2017


 

The White

By Aarron Mondello

26/11/2017

The fog rolls over
And covers the town
Filtering light
And changing sounds

I leave my home
And walk in the White
In peaceful solitude
Feeling alone this night

The air feels heavy
Almost like I can touch it
Moisture forms on my clothes
In sparkling droplets

The eeriness flares up
My imagination
Voices and sounds
In strange amplifications

All my senses perverted
My vision subverted
My mind instantly rejects
Anything that’s expected

Footsteps behind me?
Or the echo of my own?
Someone whispering secrets?
Or am I alone?

The White is alive
Altering sound
Bringing shadows brooding
Looming all around

My heart is beating
Speeding, palpitating
The thrill of not knowing
Is intoxicating

Where moments before
The White was relaxing
Now fear and thoughts
Are combining, reacting

A turn, an unknown
Just another in The White
Of a multitude that
Bolster your fright

There, a comfort!
A gnarly old tree
Around whose trunk
Dance a child’s memories

Then a wave
Upon a shore
Washes the White’s fear
Away once more

Shoulders rolling
Cool breeze blowing
The White is calming
My heart is slowing

The fog thins
Slowly dissipating
And I walk home
In a world just waking

©Aarron Mondello


Featured image found

Just a simple story

By Aarron Mondello

25/11/2017

I feel like I need
A small story to tell
I don’t want my head cluttered
I don’t want to dwell
On a million little details
Or a thousand made up quotes
Just a simple little fairy tale
One that kind of floats
Easily off the tongue
Like a feather in the mind
Just a little story to
Tell the children at bedtimes

Perhaps an adventure
About a curious kitten
Or lonely little child
And the bird with which they’re smitten

Maybe there’s a cheeky wolf cub
Learning how to hunt
Or a boy who flies on a plane
With the pilot up the front

Possibly a little girl
Finds a unicorn
With a shimmering coat of fur
And a magic golden horn

Or what about a sail boat
That held a beating heart
Deep inside its cargo hold
With which it would not part

So many little fairy tales
Floating like a song
The rhythm of imagination
Is the ballad they sail upon.

©


Featured image found in this article

http://mamiverse.com/fairy-tale-benefits-38059/

Things I Always Say

By Aarron Mondello

20/11/2017

If you take a book off my shelf
Put it back in the same space
If you watch one of my movies
Put it back it’s right case
If you empty the toilet roll
Put another in its place
If you think you’re eating dinner here
Best go wash you hands and face
If you’re inside walk don’t run
It’s not a bloody race
If you’re going out today
Behave with with a bit of grace
If you’re putting sneakers on
Don’t forget to tie the lace
If you’re putting flowers on my table
Use the silver vase
If I call you then please come here
Don’t make me give chase
If you speak don’t lie to me
It really is a disgrace
And if you mess up and I chastise you
Don’t make that bloody face
If you listened I wouldn’t have to          Repeat myself all day

©2017


Featured image: Statler from Jim Henson’s The Muppets

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/particular/”>Particular</a&gt;

Unwell child

We’ve had a stomach flu slowly work its way through our kids. Been a rough few nights.


By Aarron Mondello

16/11/2017

My body’s heavy
Legs unsteady
Eyelids want to close already
No luxury to be forgetting
Those others who rely on you.

The night lasted ages
Ruled by the dilapidated
And poisoned sages
Who at midnight’s hour serenaded
Me with vomits contagious song.

The sun it rose much too soon
Where is the night bring back the moon
So tired now I start to swoon
Long does the day before me loom
Vile and full of filth.

The night was long
As illness prolonged
Ripped through laughters usual song
As we exhausted waited upon
The illness to leave him to be.

But he awoke with sparkling eyes
No longer throat full of painful cries
Despite my already tired sighs
I’d take comfort if I’m wise
In a chap now laughing loudly.

©