All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Dead Photographs MAG
I remember a pianist with a temper
who bent time to fit an ocean
in a measure, but was delicate enough
to wait for the rain to fall.
I remember the curly laugh of a short
man, who, with pursed lips,
drew a rich melody from a golden
saxophone and swaying feet.
Their eyes were closed,
breathing long forgotten,
both drunken with the moment of being.
I was thrown into the sea after
my father discovered I never learned how to swim. There, I felt my legs struggle forever in a neutral ocean.
I remember summer in my grandmother’s dim room. Crouching, she whispered that
dying was easy for a human.
And that night, I sat sideways on my
cousin’s bicycle as he flew down
lonely streets, where he told me
his dreams in a language I cannot
remember.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 29 comments.
<3
29 articles 0 photos 63 comments
Favorite Quote:
"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
-Ernest Hemingway