My Thoughts While I Eat My Pie.

By Aarron Mondello

I wrote this little one a few weeks ago when I was away from home and missing my special lady. 

Sitting by the beach
Eating a hot pie
Staring out to sea
Where the ocean meets the sky
A small bird flying fast
Across the ocean blue
A fishing line is cast
And I think of you
Ripples on the surface
As the gentle breeze blows
Speed boat coming near us
Gradually it slows
By my side another car
Next to that another few
Today you feel so far
So I only think of you
And here a single man
Walking along barefoot
Slowly up the sand
While a lady reads her book
Two friends siting near
Discussing what to do
I’m close to enough hear
Yet I only think of you
Yellow buoys bobbing
Someone freestyle swimming
And my mind is throbbing
With thoughts of you this evening

©Aarron Mondello2017


Image is my own photo

I Need Your Hand

By Aarron Mondello

28/12/2017

I need to hold your hand, please
While I open the curtains wide
I need the sunlight to help me ease
The cold unforgiving night

I’m scared and I need your hand, please
To help guide me to the window
Lest fate begins to jest and tease
And leaves me lying in the snow

I just need to know you’re there, dear
While I pull the curtains open
While I listen nervously for voices near
Vile and softly spoken

Please my love just give me your hand
I’m begging you from my knees
Kneeling here in the grit and sand
Help me open the curtains, please.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Image

https://hawkke.deviantart.com/art/Hold-My-Hand-37222014

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

The Empty House

By Aarron Mondello

13/12/2017

There’s a quiet street in suburbia
Where all the houses look the same
Except this one large empty place
Squatting at the end of a lane

The yard is grown six foot tall
With grass and prickly weeds
The wood is flaking the walls are cracking
Along their every seem

It sits so morbidly peaceful
Empty in the sun
Dirty windows like clouded eyes
Watching everyone

One day I pushed open the squealing gate
And walked down the broken path
Towards the clouded eye-windows
That stared out from the house

I walked around until I found a window
Not too high and slightly clean
Pressed my curious face against the glass
To see what might be seen

Dust motes danced in a bar of sunlight
Like tiny golden fairies
Intricate twirls to and unheard tune
Kaleidoscopic entities

Shifting dancing dapple shadows
Moved along the walls
A constant flux of colourless runes
Penned in shifting scrawls

An old rocking chair leaned like a drunk
In one corner gone all dusty
Faded flowers and vines marched up
The edge of cushions mildew and musty

I could not see the wallpaper print
It was torn and yellowed and stained
With black patches of growing mould
Dotting what remained

The door in the room was shut
So beyond I couldn’t peer
But the feeling I had from the abandoned room
Is not even mice came here

Muffled sound echoed through the house
To where I stood outside the room
Not carried well on still, dead air
Like air within a tomb

I gazed a moment longer
Through the dirty glass
And tried to imagine I saw walking
Reflections of the past

I walked away from the dirty window
My heart was racing fast
The house loomed large behind me
Alive, lonely and vast

I looked back when I reached the gate
And thought it all surreal
That such a large and empty house
Felt altogether unreal

Still today that house stands empty
Down a lane in a cul-de-sac
With its clouded window-eyes stands sentry
Silently guarding our backs.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image is a wallpaper, I couldn’t find an original artist

http://www.wallpapermania.eu/wallpaper/sunlight-through-the-broken-windows-old-house

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

The Heat

By Aarron Mondello

4/12/2017

The heat is baking
My creative
Juices into dust
I can not wait
For the sun to abate
At the coming of dusk
The cool nights hand
Wrapped about this land
Is for what I dream
If you’ve lived
In the Aussie heat
You’ll know just what I mean
There have been times
In this life of mine
The road has actually melted
Tar stuck to my feet
In a burning heat
Land like an ore recently smelted
Shimmering heat lines
In the distance rise
Up from the scorching earth
In this sun kissed land
Where I lay my hand
The country of my birth
Even in the shade
On these hot days
There’s no reprieve from the sun
But I wouldn’t swap
This land so hot
For anything or anyone.

©Aarron Mondello2017


Featured image found here

http://www.vengavalevamos.com/travel-guide-preparing-your-australia-holiday-guest-post/