Carnegiea

Literary Magazine

Category: March

The Poem I Never Wrote In Time

By Morgan Nelson

The Poem I Never Wrote In Time

As I stare into an unknown ocean from the top of a cliff
I sit and try to describe unknown colors I’ve never seen
Words can be permanent, their existence taken too boldly
But I want these ones to be continuous
As the waves pound in rhythm
I transcend

I vow to sit still with the world’s little greens
The ones like me that grew in the winter
But struggled in spring
Nature I know will pass me in time
So I only take what I need
And stay simple in my dreams

I vow to finally let my eyes redden
As I watch the water break on the
Boulders that accumulated along the coast
Many stories ago
Tension will finally release and roll slowly off my back
I will imagine the sea water lick grazing my skin
Leaving single celled creatures
Way too small to see

I vow to visit that forest that encaptures my dreams
As my childish wonder fills in every piece of me that stays missing
I will chase rainbows I’ve never seen
And I will take the time to touch every tree
Observe every flower
Recognize every bee

I will sit on that cliff edge and take away all the harm ever done to me
I used to cover my grief with dandelion seeds
And that grief personified into a mass Holding breath hostage
Near impossible to breathe
As distinct iced pain raptured
Making me want to fully believe that nothing will ever crash
Nothing will ever be as surreal as me
Brief breaks were the only time in between

From carnage I sit estranged, changed
And now that my heart has been medically declared in pieces
Maybe this fighting chance will reconstruct what potential is already there
To start from the bottom
And work its way to the top

To count each piece
Love and take fragile hold on my very being
To adhere them back together
One by one
It could only ever be me
Repaint and polish my underappreciated bones
For the storage of memories to be cleaned out
My otherworldly miscreants will seem holy

I vow to no longer go undecided
I will still fall down
But the soothingness of the waves
Can always just take me away
So I run my fingers through the grass
And look blearily out to the almost set sun
The colors that shine in the back of my now shut eyes
Will paint me a new palette
A new ideal and imagination
I vow to repeal
It might take forever
But all I know is I’ve waited too long for forever.

I’ve been writing since I was 13, along with all my other artistic ventures. A switch turned and I wrote about what most teenagers write about; how lost they feel in the world. As a writer over the years, I’ve grown to be able to write just about anything. There is a natural gift, and my only reason to continue is for my own pleasure. I have many projects planned, and this is only a stepping stone. My work revolves around my own experience, thoughts, and imagined situations. As a lover of language, literature, and words, I feel that there is a much power to young writers than professional published ones.

‘frederic’ and ‘volcano’

By Rebecca Dubin

The tortoise is acrylic on paper and is 16×22 inches. It is a desert tortoise with a prickly pear cactus. Urban sprawl, pollution, and climate change are harming the diverse species of the Sonoran Desert. I want people to appreciate the unique and diverse species of the desert in order to work to protect them.
The volcano is charcoal, oil pastel, and chalk pastel on paper and is 16×22 inches. The geological origin of the Sonoran Desert began with a series of basaltic volcanic eruptions. The landscape has changed drastically over the billions of years that it has existed and today is only one snapshot of the nature of the land that is the Sonoran Desert today.

girls

By Jenna Gray

6/15/18 3:19 pm
girls all possess a unique power
some can gain energy from the clouds and others can gain energy from the stars
a girl’s rosy cheeks can mimic spheres so often that she has her own orbit
maybe ladies with sprinkles of fairy dust across their bodies are able to create healthy patterns in their
lives
they can come with soft curves and lush skin, dashes across their seams like a doll brought to life
fire roaring in one girl’s eyes may be dancing across another’s fingertips gracing gritty pages, a hunger
for knowledge
gravity harnessed in their hands as they put their hair up, down, left, right, diagonal, and straight across
there are girls who can utilize the sunlight and glow from its rays as they bound across the world
and girls whose skin mimic rose gardens when the air is crackling with freeze
those high enough to reach their goals, those low enough to find what they are looking for
powers so strong that together, the universe stops in its tracks to acknowledge everything girls can be

‘sun baked’ and ‘brush’

By Jacob Anderson

I am a photographer, Artist, and Creator. I enjoy all forums of both music to words, each stands beautifully a peak of human expression. As a Photographer i strive to help others and myself find the perfect way to do that.

Check out Jacobs blog:  https://silverstarsandsilvereyes.wordpress.com/about-me/

finite

By Ilana Hutzler

leather goggles. red bandana.
wings on wind, you tell me
love is like landing a plane.
wheels on world, never
slowing down. divine.
maybe, but our love,
your skin on mine
burns. say pilot,
pronounce it
kamikaze.

This piece was inspired by a song I love.

I am very passionate about creative writing, especially poetry. I also enjoy playing piano, and spending time with family and friends.

 

Daḑhakdam

by Macy Cummings

When I created this piece, I was visiting Flagstaff. For those who are unfamiliar, Flagstaff is about five hours North of Tucson. Although it is still in Arizona, it is a whole different environment- socially and geographically. I love Flagstaff, but Tucson is my home and I missed her, so I created this piece which includes various items and trinkets that remind me of my home and the beauty that is Tucson. I chose to create this on black paper with white ink to remove any distractions from what is drawn. The title of this piece is Daḑhakdam. This is a Papago (O’odham Tribe’s language) word which means “one that stays at home”.

The House of Oddities

By Andy Shipley

“Wardo’s House of Oddities”

That is what the sign said, faded and withered on the old boarded up house. Karleen had passed by this house thousands of times on her way to a cornucopia of daily adventures: on her way to school, on outings to the grocery store, excruciatingly boring journeys to her dumb brother’s soccer games, pilgrimages to church, her expeditions to violin lessons, or excursions to her favorite café she often went to with her mother.

“Has it always looked so awful?” Karleen mumbled to herself quietly. The house had two stories and was medium sized. It sat at the center of an acre and a half plot of land covered with trees and dead yellow grass. The plot was surrounded by a bronze ornate fence with a large gate padlocked three times. The gate, the long forgotten and underappreciated guardian of this land, protected a dark driveway that had long ago been cracked and overrun with weeds. The house itself was an odd shade of pink with chips of paint slowly peeling away, revealing the light-colored wood below. There was a hole in the gate where two bars were bent opposite of each other. The hole was just big enough that Karleen could slip through.

She walked up the driveway, angry at her mean brother for stealing her doll. He wouldn’t return it unless she went to that awful house and found a baseball he and his friends had accidentally thrown through the window. At the end of the driveway, she arrived on a large porch with one of those swinging benches. The front door was partially boarded up, but it was incomplete; there were only two boards on the top of the doorway and one at the bottom. Whoever had done this was in a rush, and as result, the door had been left ajar. In front of Karleen was a staircase that led to the second floor. To the left of the staircase was a long dark hallway with floral pattern wallpaper peeling off the wall, and to the left of that a family room. To the right of the staircase was dining room that had been left in shambles and behind it a dim lit kitchen. It was easy to see what window the ball had gone through since there was only one window not completely boarded up. Karleen could instantly see the hole in the window her awful brother had made with his baseball to the right of the dining room table. Everything around her was covered in dust and cobwebs. The carpet was a disgusting dark shade of brown. As she made her way over to the table she could see piles of unpaid bills and promotional posters that had slogans such as “Come Solve the Mystery,” or “See the Eighth Wonder of the World.” The floor was filthy and covered in broken glass, but she got on her hands and knees searching for her disgusting brother’s baseball. She did not find it in the dining room, or the kitchen. So, she went to look in the family room and sure enough, she found it hiding under a coffee table. But, as soon as she had the ball in hand, a loud terrible screech, like a thousand awful, dark crows all screaming the highest possible audible pitch at once, came from somewhere in the house. Being a sensible person and being scared of all manner of creature and monster that could produce such a sound, Karleen ran from the house as fast as she could with her cowardly brother’s ball in hand.

The next day Karleen was not interested in staying home and playing with the doll she had gotten back from her lazy brother. She was intrigued by the old abandoned home she had explored yesterday. What exactly is a ‘house of oddities?’ she wondered to herself. After three excruciating hours of sitting idly, she lost an internal battle, and her curiosity put her on auto pilot. She left her home and walked down the street. She went through the fence and up the driveway with more speed and purpose than the day before. When she got in the house she looked for the area that made the sound yesterday. She didn’t find any open doors on the first floor, but when she checked the second floor, she found one door wide open. Sure enough, when she tested the door it made the same terrible sound as yesterday. The room behind the door was completely empty except for the blue paint on the walls, the hardwood on the floor, and the same dry, dusty air that filled the rest of the house. Karleen stepped into the room to try to see what caused the door to open yesterday. As soon as she stepped inside, the door slammed shut. Slowly at first then faster, like a carnival ride turning on after fifty years of abandonment, Karleen started to float until it seemed as if gravity abandoned her. Karleen was stuck to the wall opposite the door, near the top of the room. She kicked off from the ceiling and floated to the door. She tried to twist the doorknob and as soon as it moved a fraction of an inch, she fell back to Earth with a low, ungraceful thud. Karleen suddenly knew the nature of this “House of Oddities”.

She immediately got up and opened the door to the next room with a new kind of excitement, like she had never felt before. It looked exactly the same as the other room, only this time she was transported somewhere that definitely was not in the house. She was standing on a cloud, with the great, big, blue sky above her. When she looked below, she could see the abandoned house in the same poor condition she had left it. If she looked a little farther she could see her house and her insignificant brother and his friends, about the size of ants, playing basketball in her backyard. The irony of this pleased Karleen as rude brother had always made fun of her small stature. She decided she would never let her self-entitled brother ever enter this house. The house was hers now, and she refused to share it. It was a part of her and she a part of it. If her brother saw it through his eyes everything she experienced would surely be destroyed. She would make up any story, tell any tale, create any excuse, lock any door, or block any sun, but her snobbish brother would not step one foot in this house. She looked at the vibrant reds oranges and pinks on the horizon and she realized she had to go home for the day. Suddenly, a door materialized behind her, and shortly after, she was back on the ground walking home.

The next day, she had just barely eaten her breakfast before rushing off to the abandoned house. She tried as many rooms as she could. She made a rule for herself: “only ten minutes per room, so that way you can see them all”. One was a botanical garden, with hundreds of different flowers, and what seemed like thousands of different butterflies. Another had no floor, but rather a pool filled with oatmeal, and another seemed to have nothing different about it except that it smelled of fresh baked cookies.
Who has been watching over this place? she asked herself, someone must be caring for those flowers, and that oatmeal had looked as if it had been cooked just this morning. I’m sure no one has baked cookies in that kitchen for at least thirty years, so then why do all these rooms have these things?
One of her favorite rooms was one that took her to the Grand Canyon. The room didn’t simply take her to the rim of the canyon, no, it floated right above the large crack in the earth. This room was one of the few that had windows; she could lean out the window and see the beautiful geological formation from above. Except it was not the Grand Canyon. At first to her it looked like the pictures she had seen but the longer she was there she realized that the geological formations were like the spires of a medieval building, nothing like the pictures she’d seen of the Grand Canyon. In fact she was not even sure if what she was looking at could be considered a canyon. Not to mention it had too much water to exist in the arid and hot Arizona she’d learned about in school.. This realization did not change her love of the room and in fact made it more unique. It was a canyon that likely only she would get to see, it was hers; the Canyon of Karleen, Karleen County, The United Counties of Karland.

This is not possible, she thought to herself there is no way this could be here, yet here I am. She could see people on the rim of the canyon coming to visit just as she was, but when she waved and called to them, it was as if they couldn’t see or hear her. In fact, it seemed as if they couldn’t even see the canyon right in front of them.
She checked her watch, she had broken her rule by twenty minutes: If she wanted to see all the rooms today, she would have to leave this room right now. Angrily she submitted to her rule She continued to sample rooms until she got to the last one on the second floor. She was about to open it when she noticed a sign on the door that said:
“DO NOT OPEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. CUSTOMERS, EMPLOYEES, AND WARDO ARE TO REMAIN AT LEAST THREE FEET FROM DOOR AT ALL TIMES. EMPLOYEES ARE TO WASH HANDS BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK. – Wardo.”

Karleen figured it was almost sundown anyway; she might as well investigate this door tomorrow to see if it was safe. She walked down the stairs and was about to exit the house when she saw her invasive brother and his friends walking up the driveway.

“No!” Karleen yelled at them from the threshold of the front door “ You shouldn’t be here! What do you want? This is my place and you can’t have it. I won’t let you spoil this place before I can see it all.” She ran up the stairs, leaping two at a time. She ran all the way to the end of the hallway and threw open the last door. The room was filled with fire. The fire spread rapidly, and Karleen ran all the way to the stairs but the fire beat her there. She was completely surrounded by flame. The smoke was choking. The flame was inches away she could feel the heat and the flames were bright. She fell to the ground and then there was darkness.

Karleen awoke with a scream. She heard footsteps as someone ran to check on her. The door opened to reveal her mother.

“Oh, there you are,” her mother said with relief. “We were looking everywhere for you. Your brother was walking up to the awful abandoned house and it caught on fire. He swore he saw you run into it right before it erupted into flame. I came back here to look for you. We couldn’t find you and we were so worried, I’m just so glad you’re safe. You look sick. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” Karleen responded, “I just had a nightmare, I’ll be alright.”

Karleen got up and went to the bathroom to splash water onto her face, but when she looked up into the mirror, she noticed soot in her hair.

“You said there was a fire at the abandoned house?” Karleen shouted at her mother from across the house.

“Yes, a big one, there’s almost nothing left of it, the firefighters are almost done. You could go watch them finish up if you like,” her mother responded.

“I’ll be back before sunset” Karleen shouted through the house hoping her words would reach her mother as she left her house. Karleen ran down the hallway, out of the front door, and down the street past her irresponsible brother. Why would he walk up to a flaming building, he’s older than me he should be more responsible she thought to herself. The firefighters were wrapping up their hoses, preparing to leave. The house was a large, unruly pile of ashes; the only distinguishable features were parts of the staircase and a couple of doorways black, burnt, and barely standing. A large piece of paper fell from the sky that had at one point been ravished by flame. Karleen snatched it out of the air. Only part of the front was legible. Karleen could make out: “CIRCUMSTANCES”, “ARE TO REMAIN”, “AT ALL TIMES”,” HANDS BEFORE”, and “-Wardo”. On the other side it had one phrase written over and over in several different fonts and sizes, appearing in what seemed like no particular pattern or shape.

“For Grand Finale use only.”

breakfast fig

By Savanna Vigil

All women are power and divine feminine energy is this earth; the divinity you see is just here to remind you of it

The Court Hearing

By Isa Gamez

A non-U.S. citizen sits in a courtroom. He’s only five years old and only speaks Spanish. He feels anxious and confused sitting there while the judge asks him questions such as “do you have a lawyer?” and “do you know what a lawyer is?” The boy feels sad as he answers “no” to each question. How could it be right to deport this five year old back to Mexico, when the U.S. is all he’s known? This hearing is not fair. A little boy wakes up pleading to his parents for food but they don’t have any. When does the suffering stop? When can these tired and broken people feel the warmth of sunshine on their bodies? When will they be able to walk down the block saying, “I’m free?”

I wrote this because recently, in our backyard, people are trying to cross the border to give their families a fighting chance in life, but instead are being violently attacked, gassed, and murdered.This is the opposite of what we’re supposed to be doing. We need to be helping and loving each other.

Carnegiea Magazine