[+]Aaroneous Monk[+]

  January 8th, 2021 Seeing the shirtless guy with the hairy hat and horns repeatedly today in the media made a memory fall out of my head. W...

  Flags that whip  people into a frenzy and asks them  to sell their birthright  for a pot of power, trying to be trendy, to cane their Abel...

  If I mimic that still small voice like a child following their Father? Like a child wondering why things  have to be the way they are? Lik...

  The ocean can  swallow you whole so you stand  on the sand  so as not to  tempt or test it as your thoughts roll in and out with the waves...

Seeing the unripened fruit of a persimmon tree  on our walk brings back childhood memories of  the Persimmon Festival in Mitchell, Indiana… ...

  If you see what I see will you understand me? It’s the hope of sharing and the scope of caring. It makes me feel free as only a bird can b...

  The city was well behind us as we headed south on a lonely stretch of highway, cornfields stretching out into the distance, the sky a patc...

  Past the decorative niche of daring dreams I wind up the spiraling stairs, spent in my soul. Somewhere above sits a bed of unburdening whe...

  Light filters through the blades of window blinds onto the book I am reading and casts shadows.  A hole allows for a circle of light to en...

So called Anthro-botanist Dr. A. Monk squatting amongst his subjects at the Topiary Park, Columbus, Ohio   -Reuters “It was truly a remarka...

  The cloud is King Biggest thing on the block Floats where it will Sometimes good for a spill Makes me laugh With its massive bit of floof ...

He's a middle aged man with gray streaks in greasy hair, smudged glasses, a bit of a paunch, and lying in a hospital bed. The medical c...

  Stepping through the time portal had seemed like a good idea at the time.  It was year three of the Covid-19 pandemic with gas prices clim...

  A circle, a line a cross, a shadow. A loop of loops a red tube and arrow. I see beauty where beauty has no business being, but that’s what...

  The portal to hell is a hole rimmed by steel where flames feed on themselves and  thrive on the wood of our poor choices. It is a bottle n...

  Hammock sways  on a gentle breeze between sycamore and maple, the book open  and steadied on my stomach. Ant weaves  through leg hair tick...

I think it is safe to say at this point that writing poems has become a habit if not a hobby of mine these past several years.  It’s likely ...

  I saw her in her cubicle in an adjacent building on a Friday and then out in the main hospital on a Monday.  They are connected by a hallw...

  It’s only a pencil nub I found in my daughter’s art supplies, but it is significant.  It is part of our shared experience as we sit togeth...

  We have to see our own faults, our own shortcomings  and complicity with evil before the full weight of truth can inhabit our minds and we...