Wandering Through the GardenBy Nicholas Ramirez
By the water’s edge stands a living history A steady groan echoes through its bones Breezing through the mangroves Remnants of splendor and fleeting fancy A union of times far gone With memories to be told
I meander through the gardens Monoliths of dignity stand Propped along the dusky canals Footpaths of weathered stone winding Lizards stand watchful, like solemn guards Only to scatter at my approach Trees loom over its denizens A shelter from the searing sun
As I see this old estate I wonder what stories I could tell That could honor this aged fellow A soul that has lasted centuries And what the gardens can whisper As I wander along the worn paths
A Captain’s AdorationBy Isabella Montes
Ships tend to remind me of Neverland. Suspended above our heads, the caravel anchors blurry dreams, cradled memories. This desperate pattern spread across the walls whispers about the man with a vision.
In my mind, Deering was first an artist. From Crayola colored blueprints of themed rooms he became a child. A glance into his life, he grew to become Captain Deering: Legendary pirate.
There is a statue of a boy. There is a statue of a boy holding Loyalty, Humility, Faith through pain in the curve of his hunched form. Worshipped throughout history across a sea. It’s part of Deering’s loot. He liked his expression. It goes with the drapes.
There are secrets here. Hushed voices lingering in cold halls. A history disguised like several adaptations of a fairytale. Lives lost in dust.
There are nasty things. Forgotten among shifting management. Withered by time. For our stories, our landmarks, our countries were founded through the complex system of The Hunt. The attack. The plunder. The conquer.
- Here we stand within treasure. A balance between an uncomfortable severing of
cultures and a jewel. Protected as a fragile rose in a trembling hurricane of modernization.
Here. This pirate settled down, if for a few months in a year. I can only imagine what a wonder it must have been. What a wonder it must be. To claim your grandest adventure, your prized creation, is home.
isla de tesoroBy Isabella Marie Garcia
always out of reach a vessel of the sea that’s always out of reach
I look out onto the water gripping my camera hoping for a ship that personifies adventure but I get a boat that’s slowly rotting its corpse sucked away by the atlantic
I look up at the roof of a “home” gripping my phone hoping for a ship that personifies imagination but I get a cheap imitation one you could find perched on a tacky armoire in kirkland’s
what’s with all these inreachable illusions? the titanic was the largest passenger ship afloat in 1912 in 2017 it’s popular oceanic junk
european men bragging about their grand and wonderful women gran princesa de los cielos mv princess victoria ss principessa jolanda claiming them as their own an ownership that was never theirs to begin with and now belongs to the sea
You think You own these vessels vessels of propulsive speed vessels capable of wreckage and destruction You never owned them in the first place not even the sea does as wood disintegrates and metal corrodes
Prison in ParadiseBy Jonah Wichterich
A toast to the forgotten ones The go fetch my coffee ones The seen but not heard ones
Your home foreign Your master benevolent Your service appreciated
Ready for service with the pull of a lever You came for a better life Did you find it
You built this city no matter what they say or don’t say
We owe you our way of life
So here’s to you
Bliss By Sabrina Lima
A pain, so small, yet so sweet and blissful Wonderful pain, taking away from the terrors of the World for just one moment. Pain bringing me peace, and inspiring a moment of ignorance. The pain flowing through, also Making life worthwhile. The pain, reminding me of my mission in this World, and fueling me to push forward. The pain that helped me become.
Ascension By Amanda Johnston
Something stands in the way.
Or rather, it rises to stand in the way, clinging to a structure like an architect clinging to this idea that nature can be controlled.
It grows more dense the closer it gets to the sunlight, reaching for a breath of fresh air amidst the deafening silence this Mansion that seems out of time in this city seems to bring.
It blocks a view, a view of this Mansion dropped in this city by this architect who so desired to control the uncontrollable, to destroy something that is, above all else, a survivor.
It is said that Nature is a force to be reckoned with, and there’s a reason why.
She is ready to stand and retaliate against those who stand and retaliate against Her. Or maybe She already has.
Because she rose to stand in the way.