illuminate literary arts magazine - thrive - issue 01 spring 2024

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion...”

— Maya Angelou

arts magazine thrive

special thanks to:

Andrea Szeto

Lisa Piazza

Heather Wu

cover art by Lyra O’Broin

Alameda High School pages designed by Olivia Vu

published 5.19.24

software used: Adobe InDesign, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Photoshop

letter from the editors

Dear Reader,

We appreciate you reading the first-ever edition of illuminate literary arts magazine! Our theme for this issue centers around new life and the desire to thrive. Our cover depicts blooming, luminescent lotus flowers afloat in murky water, illustrating the metaphor of human life overcoming challenges with resilience and passion. Like the lotus flowers emerging from the unseen into the light, we hope our publication will illuminate the talent of young artists and writers at Alameda High.

Throughout each issue, we strive to create a composition of diverse pieces that showcase how powerful and unique each individual voice can be. We are deeply grateful to all who contributed to this first issue; your creativity and dedication have made this magazine possible. Finally, thank you for giving us a chance to shine a light on the talent of our student body.

We hope you enjoy our first issue!

Sincerely,

Olivia Vu Genevieve Yuen Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor

winner for the most creative piece

Through a

Colored Lens

Lyra O’Broin | oil painting

freshman

Contemplation

Angelyn Ton | digital art

junior

Eyes

Francisco Paniagua | poem senior

When I look into the void of color; I cannot escape.

The feeling washes over me like a wave; where I do not want to come out for air.

Where perfection overcomes every flaw; a painting with no copies. It’s a moon pool where I can watch the stars and moon. The only place where it rains sadness and joy.

When I think about them it’s impossible to recreate them in thought. No words or actions can explain; the most beautiful place in the universe.

by Maithili Pillai | poem Moon,

senior

Sun, and Earth

I am the daughter of the moon and sun

My Mother the sun, brings warmth and blaze

My Father the moon, brings coolness and haze

Dear Mother, my glowing ball of radiant grace

Bestow your light of knowledge into my embrace

Dear Mother, your glare touches my earthly face

They leave scars in a silent trace

Dear Father, my gentle guardian in the sky

You guide my tides of tears with your gravitational tie

Dear Father, at times I only see a part of you I feel as you don’t see me through

A stage of darkness, I dance with grace

I am in space, in front of your celestial embrace

With a string I tie you to my head

The sun and the moon, hanging with a thread

As I spin around in the depth of space

Your gravitational pull helps my pace

May you guide me through my dance of life

Your celestial light helps me thrive

Because I am your earth, Prithvi, Bhoomi And you’re my sun and moon

Amur Leopard

Eddie Mason Custer | watercolor painting

junior

At the edge of the forest, my mother and I will have a picnic.

She tells me I am a small breath of air, a dandelion in the wind, a droplet of water.

But when I look at her, I hear a sad song, a melancholy hum, a drowning melody.

I was born to a woman who welcomed me with a single tear despite the death it took her to bring me to life.

God told her, each body is the flower of all flesh.

So she looks at me with dreary eyes to tell me, I am her seed, her wish, her wonder, a life she wants to live through.

The smoke from burning incense disappears, and there is a woman.

A woman walking by herself. She walks because she is the rope of life, She walks because her daughters can not.

Life prickles like slivers of sand.

At the dinner table when the lights are dim,

Together we walk the vast oceans, to meet the pond she can see her reflection in.

When she kneels she prays for me, her daughter.

Orchid

Lyra O’Broin | colored pencil freshman

Picnic

Isabella Pham | poem senior

A woman and her family, A family and their jokes. When they laugh, They laugh at her. Her beliefs, her worries, her manners.

The husband with a beer, The youngest holding his hand, The eldest stares back at her, laughing about the things she doesn’t know.

Illiterate till the age of 14, school was never a priority, her job was to cook and clean.

A perfect wife, by the age of 17.

They can laugh at a mother, But they don’t know. Behind her eyes are tears. Let them drop, and they become her biggest fears.

Vulnerability can never be shown, because as a woman, you have to wait until you are alone.

So tell your mom you are sorry, because on the other end of the table, it will be me someday. Two sides of a mirror, Tears falling on an empty plate.

It is more than the picnic we share. It is the river we cross together. The streams of life never stop flowing, even when it’s a mother and a daughter.

Unpacking the basket she made, I realized it’s filled with all of my favorite things.

I saw the little girl she was, too late, The little girl that chose my life over hers.

Mama, I’m sorry.

California Fires

Lexi Olsen | painting senior

Void

Genevieve Yuen | prose freshman

Orange embers dance gracefully, illuminating the darkness of the empty room. Cascading beams of light and warmth spread, enveloping everything in a cozy and delicate glow. The burning flower is like home, its warm scent and soft crackling reminding me of something familiar, stirring a distant memory of long ago.

Somewhere, someone once upon a time had given me this feeling. Of comfort, of safety, and of love. This was once my whole world, orange and yellow flowers forever twisting, intertwining in its own beautiful harmony. Faint sounds of gentle crackling and popping filling the silent air, as warmth had cradled me in its arms.

Once upon a time, that was everything I knew. Until the glow began to fade and disperse, its elegant dance flaming chaotically in disarray. Its steady, familiar hum drifting to an uneasy silence. Forever a reminder of the light that once occupied; in its place a dark empty void.

Fishbowl Cora Barillaro | short story junior

There was a girl sitting across from me with a fishbowl in her arms. I never noticed her come in, but she was there on the subway with me sitting with her legs crossed and chin high in the air. I didn’t question it at first, I see things sometimes. Whispy white figures, men in tight blazers and striking red eyes, but after a blink or two they are always gone, so I assumed that this girl was the same, one of my delusions. I blinked hard, pressing my icy hands into the curves of my face, pulling at the skin on my cheek-bone, feeling more annoyed than anything. Parting my hands I made a window for my left eye, she was still there and very much real. The girl’s nose was red from the frosty night’s touch, the subway swayed her body and the water in the bowl, splashing and dipping to the beat of the rocking. I breathed hard into my cupped hands, trapping the humid air around my cracked and bloody lips.

“Who are you?” I mouthed. And why do you have a goldfish trapped in a cage of glass? I blinked again, not able to accept that what I was seeing was real. But she remained there, a pleasant expression painted on her face. She had pale skin, and long dark hair well brushed and maintained, not a single strand in the wrong direction. People flooded on and off into the station but she remained there, only the bumps of the track moving her side to side. I wondered where she was going, perhaps to a far away pet store with bright white lights overhead and glossy floor tiles. Or maybe she was off home to show her family the new pet she had found herself, or possibly the fish was a gift for a friend. There was no way to know what was to become of the fish in that bowl, passed on to the hands of others who will leave hot fingerprints on its exterior. As for the girl, it was more unclear to me where she would go, for she did not have to swim in circles like her little goldfish and was free to walk the earth as she pleased.

Worried I would be caught staring, I quickly glanced away. But the train car began to warm up and I now needed to strip off my coat, so naturally I glanced at the girl’s direction as I pulled my arms out of my sleeves. She was gone, the only thing left was the fish and its bowl.

My mind squeezed, was she not real? Was everything just in my head? I used to have a friend who would tell me to count down from 100 when bad things would happen. I closed my eyes and counted down.

99, 98, 97, 96…

She is back from the bathroom, the only thing I should have been concerned about is the fish, it was getting rather warm. What a foolish woman neglecting the fish and going to the bathroom without it. Sweat rolled down my forehead now, I combed it back into my hair making sure to take time when blinking. Was it just my head or was the train speeding up? I didn’t question it at first, I see things sometimes. Whispy white figures, men in tight blazers and striking red eyes, but after a blink or two they are always gone. God when is my stop? I feel like I’ve been on this train forever. There was a girl sitting across from me with a fishbowl in her arms. Was the train speeding up? I could feel the vibrations of the track ripple through my body. When the hell is my stop?

The conductor walked up to me. “Mr. Smith, it is time to go,” he said.

“I have a stop to catch,” I say.

“I know Mr. Smith but it’s time to go.”

“But there is a woman, and she’s leaving a goldfish all alone, there is water all over the floor.”

“The goldfish stays in the rec center Mr. Smith.”

“The summer air has leaked into the train car.” I said.

“You need to take your medication,” he told me, “Please follow me this way.”

The Goldfish

The Apple Tree

three-part poem

I Got Sued

Apple tree grew up, Golden Delicious

Fell right over despite all my wishes

To the yard of my neighbor who’s very litigious

Disturbed while they were doing the dishes

A letter in the mail, very suspicious

The words inside were from literary liches

Adding another of life’s many hitches

To my too full schedule, and all of my itches

Clay Rowe | senior Ash Meyer | senior Will Keys | junior

I Sued My Neighbor

My neighbor grew an apple tree

One day it decided to be free

There was no time to flee

And so it crushed my dog with glee

I rushed him to the hospital

But unfortunately it was far too full

Now in my arms, my dog was cold

Did they think it would get them riches

Or were they just trying to burn some bridges

If I lose this case I’ll be sleeping in ditches

So I’ll try not to show any telltale twitches

While in court, the dastardly missions

Of taking my money and my ambitions

Was aided by some key additions

So I lost the case, and all my petitions.

So I saw red, just like a bull

I sent my neighbor a letter

His money would help me feel much better

And soon he would be my debtor

But I will always hate that stupid bed-wetter

when we went to trial all he did was smile it made my mouth fill with bile but his verdict made it worthwhile

Apple Tree

Hi guys, what’s up, I’m an apple tree

My apples bring people so much glee Golden Delicious, the best, from land to sea

But the next day brought something no one could foresee

The next afternoon, in the rain and the fog, I start to tilt, my roots unlodge I tumble over, and with a great slog, I unceremoniously crush the neighbor’s poor dog.

But it wasn’t my fault at all, you see, My owner planted me in loam, it wasn’t good for me

And now I lay here, listening to the plea Of the aftermath of this great tragedy

Fallen

anonymous | digital art

Merry-Go-Round

Ellia Blank | digital art sophomore

Snapshots of Europe

British Neighborhood, Bath, U.K.

photography | Luc Trinh freshman

Roman Architecture in Bath, United Kingdom

summer of 2023

Stonehenge, United Kingdom

Vanished

Brishna Dorani | short story

junior

She was running and screaming at the same time. Her clothes were torn apart. Barefoot. They were yelling and shooting guns at the sky to scare her so she would stop. But she didn’t, no matter how exhausted or thirsty she was. But finally, her older brother caught her by the hair. He punched her in the face, and the stomach, and threw her on the hard ground which she realized was a rock. There was blood all over her. Soon a Toyota truck came and her brother who had caught her threw her in there. She was terrified and crying at the same time. In about ten minutes, the truck stopped and he took her to the place where her parents had been waiting. It was a small village in the middle of nowhere, dry and dusty. She saw her mother standing there, crying. The family of the guy she was supposed to marry was there too.

Yara, an Afghan girl, had left Kabul about a week ago with her family to go to the country of Iran illegally to finish school. She wanted to be a teacher but she couldn’t go to school because of the new government of her motherland, Afghanistan. The Taliban did not allow girls to go to school. It was her dream, and so she left for Iran. But on the way when the thieves had caught them, one of the thieves told her father they wouldn’t take their money nor kill any of the family members if they let Yara marry him. She of course refused because her dream was to finish her education. Her parents had no choice but to make her get married. And now here she was in the middle of nowhere, alone, had been forced to marry, and her dream had vanished forever.

The Work

action poses of Zoey Gil freshman

line of

pen sketch

line of action man

pen sketch

SAMURAI

pen sketch

Masked Identity Cameron Louie | drawing senior

Sometimes Carmen Warming | poem freshman

Sometimes I wish I was someone who was normal

Sometimes I wish I was a butterfly who had the option to fly away

Sometimes I wish I was transported into a different portal

Sometimes I wish I was not an easy-to-mold piece of clay

Sometimes I wish I was not dealing with a voice stinging my brain every second of the day

Sometimes I wish I was able have neat writing unlike my thoughts

Sometimes I wish I had no stress and could go and play

Sometimes I wish I was capable of not worrying about silly little shots

Sometimes I wish I was not always compared to the one who came first

Sometimes I wish I was able to please those who love me without there being loud blaring yells

Sometimes I wish I was stress free and could never burst

Sometimes I wish I was not who I was but rather someone else

Sometimes I wish I was a perfect human being who felt she was fully seen

But then I remember if I wish for something else I would not longer be a happy young teen

Ode to the runway

Planes take off to our left

Roaring overhead as if to say ‘goodbye’ Disappearing before our eyes

In sync, with the planes ascends the once sleeping cranes

We cannot see if they return, to sleep, in the tall grass that blankets the marsh.

In the dark of the night

Lights from the city across the bay

Illuminating the waters that separate us

The pulse of our hearts guide our breath out Escaping into the biting bitter cold wind.

Ode to the Eye anonymou senior

the Runway

anonymous | ode

senior drawing

The wind that keeps our cheeks flushed and our hair whipping across our faces

The wind that sweeps down beneath the metal grate on which we sit above the dumpsters we climbed to see your beauty

The wind that keeps us closely cuddled together in a plethora of blankets

The wind that stings our drying lips but not enough to not feel your kiss

The wind that anguishes our lungs when we breathe deep with the pulp of mint flavor remnants of the once formed rubber

All for you we sit.

Night on a Great Plain

Alex Yu | poem

junior

Drowsiness

Tumbled out of me

Under the blanket of stars

And a lonely moon that hung on the sky

Lonely on a great plain

Not lonely then, I realized Crickets chirped Owls hooted

A nightly breeze carried and swirled

All of them around me

Purgatory

Purgatory Convenience Store

Sabine Lee | drawing junior

Reminisce

Isabella Palma-Hwang & Alena Yu | photography

sophomore + freshman

drifting

Olivia Vu| photography freshman

Elegy for 64 VSDH| poem senior

To my home across a sea Of binary ones and zeroes:

Never doubt my love for thee, Nor my love for your heroes. Never doubt I dream of thee, Though you may be gone, And know I’ll always sing of thee, Though yours is a lonesome song. And to my home, so far away, Ever ‘yond my reach–I swear always to remember thee, And of your wonder preach.

Thrive Art Gallery

Lotus

Alana Pampo

senior

Roses

Lars Petersen III

junior

Blossom

Haley Rome

senior

Thrive Art Gallery

Mariposa Alana Meyers

sophomore

Oranges

Lexi Olsen senior

editorial board

editor-in-chief Olivia Vu managing editor

treasurer Genevieve Yuen

Zoey Jalleh secretary Ella Randecker

Chloe Song

head of art submissions

head designer president vice president head of writing submissions

Akhil Mummidi

interested in joining our staff?

contact us through our social media for an application!

illuminate literary arts magazine is a platform devoted to empowering student voices through the publication of youth-based literature and art. Students are encouraged to submit a variety of mediums from poetry to drawings, and our editorial board will select submissions to be included in a digital magazine. In our ever-changing world, many struggle to find the right space to express themselves and feel connected. However, this magazine is dedicated to changing that, by shining a light on those eager to be seen and heard, one publication at a time.

where & when?

illuminate staff meet on Mondays in room A101, so stop by if you’re interested!