On shaky legs I stand
A pressure in my chest
Noises in my thoughts
That scarce allow me rest
Thumping in my ears
The rush of blood so loud
Like storm winds lashing heartstrings
With boiling, blackened clouds
That bare down upon on me with
The weight of a world behind
Yet when I hold your eyes with mine
Peace is what I find
©Aarron Mondello
19/9/2018
He held her gently and began to cry
This twinkling apple in his eye
She breathed a softly whispered sigh
And his years began speeding by
Before he blinked she was walking
Next he knew she was always talking
Such joy she found in asking why
As his years went speeding by
On her first day of school he was full of pride
Tears of joy he shamelessly cried
It seemed the next day she stood shoulder high
As the years still went speeding by
She graduated and his heart swelled
He asked her to sit for a spell
So they sat and they talked for a little while
And his years continued speeding by
She was married with children and loving life
He remembered her glowing when she became a wife
Now his grandchildren filled his eyes
And her years were suddenly speeding by
©Aarron Mondello
10/9/2018
Do you have some sad words
That I can put down on this page
Or perhaps some fiery angry words
That make you scream and rage
Where are your profound words
To make me stop and think
To challenge all my beliefs
And place them on the brink
What about your jealous words
Tinged with hues of green
Or melancholy bittersweet
Words of things you’ve seen
Can you find some words for me
Of joyful laughing times
Heady happy memories
That I can fashion into rhymes
Sit a while and tell me words
Of all things in your head
Words that I can twist and turn
Into tales to be read
©Aarron Mondello
8/8/2018
Step lightly on the edge of the blade
On one side doom
On the other you’re saved
Which do you choose
Which is your way
To the dark of night
Or the light of day
Step careful on the mountain path
The road is long
And often hard
Straighten your legs
And strengthen your heart
Only your hands
Can touch the stars
Walk surely through the roads of life
Sure of foot
And head held high
When it seems for naught
That you strive
Seek the comfort
In a loved ones eyes
©Aarron Mondello
2/8/2018
What if the wind
Was the collective voice
Of every loved one who
Ever passed?
Endless voices of sorrow
Trying their simple best
To answer every question
Ever asked.
I’d listen contentedly
To all of things they’ve seen
And done since they were here
with me last.
© Aarron Mondello
24/2/2018
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.
By Aarron Mondello
24/12/2017
The tiny tree
On the table
Silently awaits
December’s fable
Sparkling baubles
Figurines
Most days go
Largely unseen
Until the magic
Comes that night
And bathes the children
In Christmas light
Excitement bubbles
In the air
Wide eyed with wonder
They stand and stare
Until one shouts
“This one’s yours
And look it says
From Santa Claus”
©Aarron Mondello2017
Featured image found on Pinterest
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
By Aarron Mondello
14/12/2017
FOR MY LOVELY LADY, MY ANGEL, MY SAVIOUR.
He came down on tattered black wings
And blasted open my door
Screeching curses at all dead things
Promising me evermore
Shall I regret the day I drew breath
Or ever dared to dream
“Soon” he swore “you’ll long for death
And deliver yourself to me
I cried to him a refusal
“You shall not have me!”
But to my own ears my voice sounded thin
And his white eyes gleamed
He knew my lie better than I did
He saw what was in my mind
That in my darkness I wished to die
Hoping peace is what I’d find
But he knew also the time was wrong
I was fractured, yes, but whole
He heard the tentative whispers of my song
The tune strummed upon my soul
He sneered at me and knew full well
My time was drawing nigh
For on the past I too strongly dwelt
Searching for the present lie
He bowed to me then snapped his wings
Soon I lost him to the night
But now for as long as my music sings
I’d dream of his glowing eyes
Or so it was that I once thought
While living in deep shadow
My heart beat frantically, distraught
My life felt empty and hollow
Then so it happened while I was lost
Tired of living in the dark
With a thick coat of furry moss
Growing over my broken heart
That she came then and found me
Sitting in a shadow
Stepping lightly like a dream
She came to take me home
Her wings were golden, purest light
Her eyes clear sparkling blue
She knelt near me dispelling night
And whispered “I’ve come to rescue you”
I nodded, shrugged then looked away
I believed her words were lies
And I saw that a dawning day
Was spreading it’s warm light
When I followed the growing brightness
Back along its lines
I discovered I was frightened
When I saw it spread out from her eyes
She picked me up and cradled me
Comforting my fractured being
Such smiles as she bestowed upon me
I had rarely seen
I fell then into a light sleep
As she carried me to her world
Unknowingly I began to weep
When her golden wings unfurled
Silently she shook her wings
And seemed to float into the sky
Effortlessly riding the shifting winds
While I slept and cried
I awoke in an unfamiliar bed
Soft white goose feather down
In her lap she cradled my head
My shadow could not be found
Many moons have passed since then
Living in each others arms
And in the brightest love my shadow is penned
Where it can do little harm
This angel swooped down and saved me
From a devil that was me
She taught me about bravery
And how to let my light run free.
©Aarron Mondello2017
Featured image: Dance with the devil by Valentina-Remenar
https://www.deviantart.com/art/Dance-With-The-Devil-455879702
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
MyWorldsInWords 