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Silent Mornings Come Too SoonShe spoke secrets, of no importance-- just a whisper.Silent Mornings Come Too Soon
With soft syllables
among silent air, she closed his eyes and listened to sounds of savored sleep.
by ~SayFarewell
What's LeftMoments-- the last ones left to linger slide slowly--for now.What's Left
They'll wake up weary for wanting, remembering errands they must run,
I'll count them, second-by-second,
as they whisk through the window, wishing they won't be late.
by ~SayFarewell
Let Me BreatheI must not remember my last breath.Let Me Breathe
The last time I inhaled so deeply--and exhaled,
with all of the disaster, flushed into the air, All of the terror I owned, blast from within, And the freedom I earned, unhinging my jaw.
I want to remember my last breath.
The one that lasted longer than the others, with comfort peeling away longing, Tasting sharp like pineapples, and ending so sweetly that I could wish for nothing else.
That I could want nothing else.
I cannot remember my last brea--
by ~SayFarewell
Favourites
Thesis on fruitWe are biased when it comes to fruit. Fruit like the orange, for instance, are seen as joyous, capable of spring and unreeling skin (like bandages off healed wounds and not snake slough, which is dark), and grapesThesis on fruit
are sudden
raindrops, seductive
as poison. And by poison, I mean the good kind -- liquor -- and not something lethal, although...
Well, then there are apples,
wholesome as flannel, talcum powder, all sweet childhood things. And I suggest the mango's etymological root is someone's succulent summer f
by `lovetodeviate
My Favorite Was GalunggongSink-side, she'd cleave their silver underbellies, discard the dangling yarn of guts, brown as old bananas, and rinse the insides—exposed diary lined with ribs. She'd tong them into the oil, the water crackling off the surface, dark as urine, and flip their stiffening bodies at the right moment, cutting fresh roman tomatoes in the meantime. She'd dash them with Kikkoman, spoon fresh rice, tapping wood against ceramic, and pimple the side with bagoong: shrimp paste, potent as the Great Salt Lake. When the fish was done, patted dry, she'd pull the bones out like splinters, uMy Favorite Was Galunggong
by ^fllnthblnk
BemuseddeviantID
| Almost 6 years here at deviantART. I've been around under a variety of names familiar to different groups on dA. ~Aun-Juli was my original account and still holds my photography, ^ArtisticAunJuli is my artsy endeavour account which I proudly moderate the Fan Art Gallery. It was time for me to go back to my roots, where I belong--writing. I'm rusty, I have a lot of work ahead of me, but I'm excited. That's what really counts.    |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Humble, Texas
- Favourite poet or writer: Murakami, Sartre, Tolkien
- Website: http://aunjuli.blogspot.com
- Email: aunjuli@aol.com
- AIM: aunjuli
- MSN: aunjuli@hotmail.com
- Yahoo: aunjuliriddle
- Skype: aunjuli
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Just wanted to thank you so much for your support and the
( `leoraigarath )
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Some days I write those words, others they write me.
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"Live. Love. Learn" - I..don't know who said it.
My Jewelry store - [link]
"sheep-tending" [link]
"When..." [link]
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玉
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"i don't like the credit crunch and the way the banks have stopped lending. to fix this, i think we should kill paris hilton." -=bewareofthesnowman
*Adopt-A-Writer | =DailyDeviants | `seniormentors | =Trashrock | *Writers-Workshop
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This is ^ArtisticAunJuli
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I could only laugh.
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This is ^ArtisticAunJuli
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