Christmas Morning

By Aarron Mondello

24/12/2017

It’s the morning of Christmas
And all through the house
Children were waking
With a calamitous shout

Like stampeding elephants
The run down the hall
Nearly trampling the toddler
When unbalanced he falls

Into the lounge room
And up to the tree
They all go a sprinting
Squealing with glee

There’s a rustle of paper
Then sharp tearing sounds
All voices are silent
While they see what they have found

From Mum and Dads room
There came a great roar
“We’ve not got our coffee
Best open no more”

Collectively they groan
As though with one voice
They back away from the presents
Knowing they’ve got no choice

Big Sister then says
“We’d best fix them a drink
Or trick them with water
In a mug. Do you think?”

They all heard Mums voice
All knowing and smug
“We know the sound
Of cold water in a mug.”

Dejected rejected
They head for the kitchen
All except for the toddler
Who waited expectant

The coffee was made
Finally done
So Big Sis called out
“Come Dad and come Mum.”

Mere moments had passed
They went back to see
Mr Four Year Old Brother
Unwrapped all under the tree

There followed tears and tantrums
Crying and fights
None were as happy
As on Christmas Eve night

I’ll finish this tale
By telling you true
They all had a great Christmas
I hope you do too.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image

Waddington’s Limited Edition Christmas Puzzles

My Christmas Poem

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

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;

Rescued from the dark

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

Her

By Aarron MONDELLO

12/12/2017

This little bit popped into my head while my lovely lady was reading fan fiction and I was gazing at her. It’s not much, but I hope you enjoy it.


Her

The quiet laid on thick
Like a winter woolen rug
Not the least bit uncomfortable
When silence is shared in love
I glance over and see her
My angel across the room
Balm for all my heart ache
Bane of all my woes
She sits and stares intently
At the story she is reading
I don’t think she sees me silently
Gazing and at her, peeking
The words of the world she’s reading
Play across her glasses lens
Will she look up at me and smile
When the next paragraph ends?
Probably
For she’s the one who always smiles
Even when she feels she’s can’t
Although sometimes she needs a little help
To locate her little laugh
Now she yawns she’s tired
Most likely off to bed
Where like usual till morning comes
She’ll sleep just like the dead.

Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image is apparently a wallpaper. I couldn’t find the original source.

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 Fountain

By Aarron Mondello

2/12/2017

High upon a mountain
Built an age ago
Stands a marble fountain
That no longer flows

It’s said that in the past
Under the myriad stars
The crystal water flowed clear and fast
Pilgrims came from afar

They sipped the pristine droplets
As they knelt upon the ground
Lips pressed to a golden goblet
Their prayers barely made a sound

Tis said that if the gods were listening
When the travelers spoke their woes
A comet with its tail a glistening
Would be the sign to know

Heavy hearted many left
When no sign did they spy
Some would even jump from the cliff
When no comet graced the starlit skies

Upon one night way up high
A travellers question asked
For the well to come up dry
And it trickled that night its last

Why he asked this under the moon
No body can ever say
But the gods saw fit to grant his boon
And the fountain still runs dry today.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image: Fountain of Youth by nisht

https://www.deviantart.com/art/FOUNTAIN-OF-YOUTH-77384266

The Newly Departed

By Aarron Mondello

1/12/2017

Alone here I sit
The newly departed
Leaving behind
Those broken hearted

As through a window
I stare looking in
No breath do I take
No blood of the living

No sun on my skin
For skin I have none
No feeling in hands
Bodiless, numb

No emotion in me
No anger seething
No joy or jealousy
At those still breathing

No tears to be shed
At least not by me
From all feeling in death
I am suddenly freed

Like a soft breeze
I now roam this land
A breeze that once was
A real bleeding man.

© Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image: animated wallpaper for smartphones

What would you do?

By Aarron Mondello

29/11/2017

What would you do
If you woke up one day
To find all you’d known
Had been spirited away

All of your family and friends
In some unknown place
No where to be seen
Not one familiar face

Only strangers eyes
Everywhere that you walk
Each one as lifeless
As body outlined in chalk

Even the houses you pass
Look different and strange
Did god reach down from the clouds
And your world rearrange

Would you search for your family
Would you look for your friends
Or would you mourn then accept
Your old life has come to an end

Now what would you do
If you woke up one night
Tied to a cold table
With no one in sight

A light flickering weak
Yellow above your head
A small bench to the left
Fills you with dread

A scalpel and forceps
A knife and a hook
To terrified to stare
But where else do you look

A figure appears
At the edge of the gloom
Blood spatters their apron
Looking like roses in bloom

What would you do
When they pick up the knife
Would you hope to go quietly
Or beg for your life

Tell me what would you do
If one sunny afternoon
You happen to look up
And saw a crack in the moon

The tides would crazy
Without their guiding hand
Looters and violence
Ravage the land

All morals thrown out
It’s now flight or fight
In this destructive new world
Only meanest survive

The weak are cast down
And ruled over as slaves
Bent, broken and used
For the rest of their days

Would you fight to survive
And kill to remain on your feet
Would you live as property
Or one of the “elite”

Now just once more I ask
What would you do
If you looked about yourself
To find all your dreams had come true

Terror and fear
Still thriving abroad
But in your perfect kingdom
You are the lord

No goal is there left
You’ve achieved them all
Testaments to your success
Adorned every wall

Would a feeling so hollow
Spread through your chest
Now all your dreams have come true
There’s not one of them left

Would you relax and enjoy
The kingdom you’ve built
Would you see those less fortunate
And feel any guilt

How would you cope
If your life suddenly changed
Adapt or accept
Or madness deranged.

© Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image found in this article

http://www.healthguidance.org/entry/15549/1/How-to-Get-Rid-of-Nightmares.html