The Dusty Men

The Dusty Men

 

Four men travel a dusty road

Tight of belt and light of load

Weary feet shuffling slow

Where do the four dusty men go?

 

Man number one is a man named Tom

He never speaks much of where he is from

But he holds the ace of spades with a tear in his eye

As the bright sun sets in the twilight sky

 

Man number two goes by the name of Bert

Wearing the rags of a silken shirt

Early each morning with a flask of gin

He sneaks off alone to quietly sing

 

Man number three is a spry old cricket

Said his friends out west called him Wicket

With gnarly old fingers as light as a breeze

He lifts heavy purses just as easy as you please

 

Man number four doesnt say much

The other dusty men all call him Dutch

They can’t imagine that his road has been fun

For poor old Dutch doesn’t have a tongue

 

Four dusty men travel a dusty road

Tight of belt and light of load

None can ever say if the dusty men know

Where the roads they travel even go

 

©Aarron Mondello

2/11/2018

 

Down to the billabong

 

The buzz of life is in the air
Magpies sing their morning song
And a fat old shuffling wombat
Plodded down to the billabong

“Mornin’ Roo” the wombat said
“Set to be a lovely day”
But the cranky big red only grunted
And rudely hopped away

“So it is, Wombat old boy”
Said Brown Snake in the grass
“and don’t mind Red, for as we know
He is prone to be an arse”

Wombat chuckled softly
And continued to shuffle along
Chatting with Brown Snake
Heading down to the billabong

They made their way towards the bank
Of the the still, inviting pool
Passed under a great big gum tree
Through shade so very cool

“Ooroo you two. Say, what’s new?”
Came a slow voice from the tree
Wombat looked up and who’d he spy?
Koala, as high as he could be

“G’day Koala,” wombat said
With a smile for their meeting
“It comes as no surprise to see
Again you’re bloody eating”

“Yeah man” Koala slurred
Then promptly fell asleep
And Wombat thought “Bloody Hell,
Those leaves must be a treat”

On he shambled, old Wombat
A slow and leisurely crawl
When just a few paces on
He heard Black Cockies raucous call

“Wombat, you plod, move along
Before the waters all drunk dry
It never is a pleasant sight
To see a wombat cry”

“Ha Ha Galah, very funny
You’re such a flaming riot.
Do the whole bushland a favour
And just be bloody quiet”

Black Cockies laugh echoed
Through the bushland all around
While unbeknownst to Wombat
Came Emu tall and proud

Too late Emu saw him
And tried to slow her run
Long legs becoming tangled
She fell hard on to her bum

“Emu!” Wombat called out loud
“Love, are you alright?
Did you bruise yourself,
Falling from such height”?

Emu wobbled to her feet
“I’m fine, just carry on”
And feeling quite embarrassed
She fled to the billabong

Dingo slunk down the path
Echidnas quill stuck in her snout
And Wombat heard the snickering
Of Echidna near about

Old Frilled Neck ran past
Frill rustling in the wind
Coming first in a race
That only she was in

A shadow passed over Wombat
Kookaburra flying high
Laughing at the shenanigans
He spied from in the sky

Then Wombat came finally
To the banks where Wood Duck nests
He stopped near an old campfire
To take a minutes rest

He snuffed the ground for sign of man
But the human had moved on
It seemed all manner of creatures
Came down to the billabong

©Aarron Mondello
7/10/2018

Image credit: An image of A billabong by Harold Cazneaux

Winter Wind

 

 

Blowing down a mountain

A wayward Winter wind

Traveling with all speed

Trying to catch the Spring

 

But Spring was just too spritely

And quickly dodged aside

So the curious Winter wind

Blew onto Summer time

 

Summer time was much too dry

Winter wind grew much too warm

So it skirted ‘round the edges

And to Autumn it blew on

 

Yet when the winter wind

Blew golden Autumn leaves

Tears of ice it cried

When they fell down from their trees

 

So weak and barely blowing

Winter wind came finally home

And never through the seasons

Did Winter again roam

 

©Aarron Mondello

26/8/2018

Forgotten King

 

 

Follow the wind

Over the land

Over canyons deep

Across the fields

Of wildflowers

And into the forest creep

Through the shadows

Of gnarled old oak

Passed the moonlit clearing

Step wide and far

Of the witch’s hut

Her eyes you should be fearing

Stay on the banks

Of the rushing river

It will lead you from the trees

When you emerge

At the river’s mouth

Turn your bearing east

Up and over

Rolling hills

Past a sapphire lake

Until you find

A hard dirt road

Winding like a snake

Take the left

Follow the path

Above a city ruined

Crumbling walls

Broken domes

How many are there entombed?

The path you’re on

Will wind and rise

To a high and jutting cliff

Where in a hall

Awaits a king

Forgotten and bereft

For long ago

Far out to sea

His queen was drowned and gone

Heart turned cold

Tears of ice

He set his heart to mourn

He cried his love

From empty eyes

And sat his throne in dark despair

The years ran

Like the tides that took her

His kingdom fell to disrepair

There he still is

Upon his throne

The Forgotten Kings grim fate

To sit alone

In countless tears

And for his Queen await

 

©Aarron Mondello

1/7/2018

A Land Passed

 

An ancient ruined
Battered keep
A home for the dead
Hear them weep
Forever here
In eternal sleep
Forever trapped
In a ruined keep

Green grass swaying
Around full grown trees
Spoken softly
On the breeze
Words unheard
Yet understood with ease
As spirits rest
Amongst the trees

All but forgotten
Denizens of this land
Forever untouched
By gods hands
Prisoners in glass
Within times sands
The long dead people
Of this long dead land

©Aarron Mondello
4/4/2018

 

Passing the Eucalypt

 

Long brown dugite
Slithers softly
Through the grass with ease
Rustling whispers
From tumbling passing
Windblown summer leaves

Shadows cast
Upon the ground
From soft clouds above
Racing swiftly
The wedge tailed eagle
Driven by the hunt

Birds trill loudly
From golden boughs
Of the great eucalyptus tree
Kookaburra pair
Upon its crown
Laughing light and free

Bounding past
Broad yet graceful
A troop of big red roo’s
Heading home
With the sunset
In groups of three’s and two’s

When twilight sets
Dark and peaceful
Come possums out to play
Until red sun rises
At the dawn
Of another bush land day

©Aarron Mondello
30/3/2018

 

Human Waste

 

Reek and refuse
Vile aroma
A stench fit to
Induce a coma
Trash and rubbish
Line the streets
A midden heap
Of human feet
Tramping filth
With every step
Polluting the air
With every breathe
To rot and ruin
Has gone man
It’s almost more
Than I can stand
To see the scowls
On every face
In every park
In every place
Like no-one left
Knows how to smile
Reek and refuse
Demeanor vile

©Aarron Mondello
7/3/2018