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

 

Dark plane

A hollow wind blew through the cracks
Of the dusty, dry, grey ground
It sent a shiver down my back
That dreadful groaning sound

Below the black hill where I stood
Colourless spectres roamed
Towards a far off darkened woods
Down a broken road

Above my head the sky hung dreary
With heavy bottomed clouds
Just to see them made me weary
As they drizzled cold rain down

I turned up my collar against the rain
And started for the trees
For I live now on this dark astral plain
With its sorrowful moaning breeze

I gained the plateau at the base
Of they great tall darkened hill
There I met a man with out a face
Though he made for the forest still

With jerky movements in slow motion
They all trod their path on
I was hit with a startling notion
That all I saw was wrong

For here I moved as ever I had
In my waking life
In tattered rags all others were clad
Where I was clothed in white

I began to notice as I passed
All dead eyes turned to me
Fearful I began to run fast
Towards those ominous trees

A screeching and ungodly wailing
Split the eternal night
And against a wall of dead I was railing
With the tree coming nigh

My foot crossed into the forest
And every thing went black
I trembled awaiting some new horror
Then woke up lying on my back

My sheets were plastered to my skin
Sweat coated every inch of me
Through my window dead eyes peered in
A sea of ghosts awaiting me

©Aarron Mondello

25/2/2018

Astral

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;

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