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Glimpse. A Ramona Convent Arts Magazine 2018.


Glimpse. All we can offer is a glimpse. Though it often feels like so many of our hours are spent at school, our time in any one space – any one classroom or lunch table or locker area – is but a glimpse into our lives. There’s such a visual component to that word – glimpse – and it seems to fit right in with this year’s selection of work: From imagistic poetry to a slate of sharp photography, these pieces offer a glimpse of Ramona and its world. Emphasizing the fleetingness of secondary school may feel cliché, but it reminds us that ephemera marks our lives all the time, and catching a glimpse into someone else’s life is a privilege easily missed. Without further ado, we invite you to glimpse into what lies ahead. Arts Magazine Editing Team. 2018.


Table of Contents. Part I. Text. “Fleet”*** Araceli Seager “Spaceman Song”*** Stephanie Varghese “What Am I?” Jackie Gonzalez “Were and Are” Rogue Badillo “Inferno” Andrea Caballero “Differences” Anissa Foster “Firework” Lauren Knapp “An Unexpected Beloved” Flor Sanchez “Speak” Melissa Shun “Suppressed” Monique Rios “Should Have Stayed Young” Alyssa Walldez “Forest” Sara Monroy “Tangled” Madelyn Williams “A Sesquipedalian Poem for a Lover” Allie Herrera “Drip Drop” Elizabeth Velez “Faced Echoes” Napaquetzali GutieRuiz “Untitled 2” Araceli Seager


“Frizzy Fabulous” Celeste Vazquez “Looking Up” Nathalie Diaz “Blurring Existence” Alexis Chin “Calm” Alina Xia “End of July” Claire Sauter “Perfect Summer Day” Ali Soto “New Year’s Eve” Sara Feng “I Built My House in Sea” Stephanie Varghese “Summer Night” Cassandra Deng “Bokeh” Samantha Salazar “The Girl in the Escaramuza Dress”*** Celine Vazquez *** Winner, Ramona Convent Annual Writing Contest

Part II. Visual. Corina Farfan Nyah Austin (Three Part Series, B/W) Celine Vazquez Aminah Chavez Graciela Salinas Josephine Vargas Celine Vazquez Lydia Nuñez Kathleen Ngo (Four Part Series, Color) Comics and Cover Art Courtesy Angela Reyes-Gomez


Part I. Text.

Angela Reyes-Gomez


Fleet Araceli Seager we just stay to see white snow fall framing our nose and eyelashes this moment that might slip through our grubby, pink fingers if we do not link them side by side do not go inside to find the camera! when you return the white might vanish. so we just stay, and enjoy the tiny cold crystals that form in the sky to melt on hot grinning faces. we look up to a blanket of soft gray and laugh with each other, side by side.


Spaceman Song Stephanie Varghese A little spaceman, lost and cold, Was lonely up in space. He missed the earth his feet once knew. He missed that happy place. He didn’t know what year it was – He’d been afloat so long. He choked back tears and softly hummed A saddest spaceman song. Vibrations in his throat felt strange. His voice was soft and slow. He used it long ago to tell His wife he loved her so. He turned and saw the planet Earth: A bluish dot out there. He took his helmet off, for he No longer craved for air. The little spaceman, lost and cold, Had had some time to think. And as he drifted further on, His image seemed to shrink.


What Am I? Jackie Gonzalez My body is a rocking boat on a stormy night. My thoughts are useless, broken oars. My tears are the ocean that I so helplessly float on. My body has broken apart like a forgotten doll. My head is a dusty cage left in an attic, long ago. My heart is an old toy that stopped working. My body is an old tree that won’t stop growing. My brain is the roots that destroy everything around them. My voice is the fruit at the top, begging for attention it will never get I am no longer whole. I was torn apart, destroyed by myself By the tornado that I am. But, funny enough, I’m still alive because of my tornado, Because the swirling storm holds my broken pieces together. And when my tornado dies, the broken pieces that were barely held together will finally separate and I will cease to be.


Were and Are Rogue Badillo You were just like my diary The one that held all my secrets You were just like my old house Somewhere I felt safe You were just like my guard dog A protective and trusting friend You were just like the clouds Something that watches over me You were just like my bed Something I am able to find comfort in You were like a blanket Something that I enjoyed having wrapped around me I’ve let you be these things, And you did all you could But before we parted ways When I thought you’d be nothing to me I realized something You were still my diary Something I didn’t always think about You were still my house Somewhere I would have to pass on You were still my guard dog A friend that never gets old You were still my clouds Something that makes the sky gray You were still my bed A dirty mess You were still my blanket A piece of material that drags I needed you at the time, But now I truly know I will find what I need, just better


Inferno Andrea Caballero Soft swaying waves Guiding to paradise Sleepy sun Flickering and flickering and flickering Casting unsteady shadows Over wooden giants Arms raised, stretched, reaching For a lone weaving lantern Close enough to set fire Leafy branches set ablaze Myriad of scarlets, amethyst, amber Millions of eyes watching, An audience to the phantasmagoria of light Praying and hoping and praying.


Differences Anissa Foster The difference between A Pen And A Pencil Is that One stays One can go away One is able to erase mistakes Another is able to scribble Away the mistake Making it worse But which is better? Remembering? Or Forgetting?


Firework Lauren Knapp Her name, Glistening, bright, Written in silver. Like a fire dancer had painted it with a sparkler And continued to dip his brush Back into the silver paint. Writing it carefully, Connecting each letter. At any moment now, It might explode. Like a firework, Bright and lively one minute, But dead and gone the next. She felt as if the curses Had condemned her to this. That she was destined to Be a bright, but quick flame, And as quick and boldly as she came, She would fizzle out And be nothing more than smoke.


An Unexpected Beloved Flor Sanchez It was supposed to be summer, but the downpour of cold, miserable rain said otherwise. I stayed indoors today rather than going to the park with my friends. I remembered dad telling me that nobody would like the sunshine if it didn’t rain, and that the little droplets of water looked beautiful on leaves and petals, like a thousand liquid crystals. Standing next to the window, I watched my old flower bucket, once filled with beautiful, purple swan river daisies, flood. I did nothing as the water flowed over the top, wetting everything around. The sky eased, sputtering out its final jewels and I realized, He was right. You were worth it.


Speak Melissa Shun I wish to have the audacity To stand up to Those who jam words into the Mouths of others Who are scared to speak. My reflection mocks me For worrying about the Most trivial things Instead of focusing on What’s there I want to escape to lands Far and unknown Like a fugitive on the run My crime would be cowering away From my beliefs and Into solitude almost by instinct Yet I still feel the eyes on me Expecting whatever they Expected to be fulfilled They do not see the mirror that vibrates On high frequency


Suppressed Monique Rios Shimmering In succulent sweetness Lights dim, doors lock Upturned by sanity Lines feel, Seeping Through the beaming cracks Twisting anew, Freed Like an open cork of Whooshed emotion Escaping with a bruised Heart


Should Have Stayed Young Alyssa Walldez When we were kids, All we wanted to do was grow up, So all we did was try to prove how good we were without each other, Trying to show our independence, We got so distant. And so I started to forget that I had you there for me if I needed you, But now we’re grown, And now you’re gone, You moved out, And now it’s as if I never really knew your name, As if you were another stranger to me, Just trying to live life one day at a time. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry that we grew up too fast Or at least tried Deep down inside I knew I wasn’t ready And I could see you weren’t either. The truth is, I was slowly breaking without you, And I know it seemed as if I didn’t appreciate you, But I did, I still do, I promised myself once I noticed you were gone and out of the house I would make it better, But when I knocked on your house door a couple of weeks ago, You didn’t answer, A little boy answered, I had hoped he was yours. But how we grew up, I should have known that hope is for suckers, And how fast hope can fade, My hope faded as I was told you had gone to your better life, I had to process it for a bit, I understand, and it’s fine.


Forest Sara Monroy Stiff, brown leaves Muffled crunching noises The sharp crispness Of the misty air Stings Icy fogs Twisted roots Trudge over Uprooted ground. Clear, arctic ocean Mossy, ivy Aged trees Dirty, glittering Blankets of snow Cold, brittle black sky Shivering erratically The world Dripps with frosting In dead silence


Tangled Madelyn Williams Continuous talking, Catching constellations Like a Child catching fireflies. Traveling through Endless Emerald Field of fluorescent orchids, Peeling through endless Beautiful bouquets Stored scarcely Through the tired tower. We wielded Grateful Goodbyes


A Sesquipedalian Poem for a Lover Allie Herrera You were a willowwacks unknown, a maze of foliage and forest. I didn’t know the language of the wind and leaves until I paused waited listened to every crepitation. I figured if I listened long enough, I’d know when storms brew or fires catch. I’d predict the petrichor and ash. now I pause wait listen to every crepitation of the wind and leaves I know your language, a maze of foliage and forest. You are a willowwacks known.


Drip Drop Elizabeth Velez Inhaling the Sweet scent of The cold rain. The pitter patter Of the rain Following the rhythm Of my footsteps. The thick gray color Of a rainy day in LA Fading away. Drip Drop Drip Drop The rippled reflection In the puddle Reveals a Miserable memory. In the burning rain Of goodbyes That still falls. Hearing the Endless thorny words. Endlessly crying like Raindrops on a Windowpane.


Drip Drop Drip Drop The sin Of nicely being in love. I became crazier With those Warm lies. As if the rain Wants its existence To be known. Am I someone Who engraved, Like the rain, My existence to you? If not, Am I just someone Who came and went Like a rain shower?


Faded Echoes Napaquetzali GutieRuiz Light Showers through, Showing Rugged texturePeeling skin. Graffiti devour The walls; Exposing the room, Revealing every Little imperfection; Discolored Trash, Litter the floor. Cracked, Crooked; Every obscurity, Scarred brightly. Toys Left behind, Worn out, Tattered; Broken. Dust cloaks the SurfaceUntouched. A gust Echoes memories, Clinging To the deserted roomFalling deadly silent. Now faded.


[Untitled] Araceli Seager Rushing past trees That shimmer with rain. A smile that sparks fast feet Through the pleasantly perilous park. Hearts beat fast in perfect unison And fall onto freshly cut grass Chests rise and fall facing A sparkling black sky. The moon sketches a design, A roadmap of the future. It hangs above presenting promise Woven in the long shadows of night. The heartbeats slow And lull to a warm Innocent sleep.


Frizzy Fabulous Celeste Vazquez Grab the straightener and fry your hair. They can’t know about those pesky tendrils That grow from your head. It’s like you own personal bird’s nest, Except you didn’t ask for it And you have to spend an hour on it Just to look presentable. You wake up too late to be able to Plow that iron through your curls. Well, guess you’ll have to braid it. “Your natural hair is so pretty!” “You should wear it curly more often.” “I would kill to have your hair!” “One day you’ll understand how pretty your real hair is.” Maybe they’re right. Listen to them. Let those coils loose. Your hair is beautiful. All hair is beautiful.


Looking Up Nathalie Diaz Concept of day Sizzles away. Black Ink Amplifies The world above. Concerned clouds jumble, As hectic as concepts scraping, Escaping, The mind. Surprisingly, Constellations, As bright as you, Justify Darkness. Beauty is all I see When looking up.


Blurring Existence Alexis Chin Prickling, pounding, pulsating Teetering on the edge Surroundings swayed Lines blurring of reality Faint voices calling out Sun shining in the haze I was but a dream in existence Like a ghost going down


Calm Alina Xia Cover the sky with your hands. Does it cover it? Say you’re fine even though it is difficult. You’re fine, right? My eyes, my lips, and my heart are saying it, but actually, I don’t know if I’m sad even when I’m sad. At least spring noticed, giving me some flowers. And that’s where I find the way of life again. There no going against time that is flowing so silently, even when I send away a loved one. Emptiness, loneliness, and nostalgia are all growing, but I don’t know what my heart is hurting over. Help me to find a way. When dad smiles once, two worries disappear. And that’s where I find the way of life again. I become rather calm. Let’s be calm instead.


End of July Claire Sauter Celebrate your weeks as they float by Like the long, lazy loop of the sun cross the sky. Notice your days as they slip by Past hopes and dreams still waiting to fly. Fear your hours as they rush by Watching habits of June that continue to lie. Mourn your minutes as they go by Mocking the moment every time you sigh. Savor your seconds as they tick by For soon they must go like the end of July.


Perfect Summer Day Ali Soto My senses Bombarded by stimuli. Birds chirp, Calling. Fountain frolickers. Sweet scents Waft. Tart passion fruit. Persimmons with Crisp, tight, orange skin. Sticky, sweet juice Dribbles. Melding flavors, Caressing my tastebuds. Vigorous tug-of-war. Stormy Yips playfully. He drags red foxes. A multitude of hues Spans the sky.


New Years’s Eve Sara Feng Grandfather wears Black frame glasses New Year’s Eve dinner I smell Delicious food Floating Around the house. Carp soup Milky Few green leaves Of caraway Sky Slowly darkens Hundreds of fireworks Burst simultaneously Fireworks Colorful blossoming dandelions Bells ring Everyone cheers


I Built My House in Sea Stephanie Varghese I built my house within the benthic zone Where sea squirts, crabs, and benthos feel at home. Since ocean waters weigh a massive ton, A soothing, sleepy mood charms everyone. Anemones sway limply to and fro While crabs lie fast asleep in sand below. A subtle seaweed smell would fill the air If anyone could breathe a breath down there. Divided by the thermoclime alone, Up’s the wild world, and down is home.


Summer Night Cassandra Deng Brightened moon, Cicadas sing, Fairies dance, Upon peaceful lake. Pearl dewdrop, Emerald willow Swings in the summer wind. Lotuses perish, Leave die Under the dull moon. Summer switch. Travel of Dandelion Winnie Wen Under a kapok tree There is a dandelion bud Laying on a vast grassland Seed head was ready to release Wind blew gently Shaken, but not released On the next morning Sun came up weakly Mist was gone There was only one seed head left Wind blew again The only seed head left the torus Flied into the sky with wind Higher and higher Left the grassland


Finally arrived another place Accumulated with another seed head Missing the kapok tree sometimes But the sky here is lovely Days and days Flourished in the land It will grow into a real dandelion


Bokeh Samantha Salazar I can’t remember the greatest moments of my life. My best memories are blurry. Like an oil painting that’s been blended too well or tail lights speeding on a freeway. The fleeting apparitions dancing in my head are all in a soft focus. The focus comes in and out, then not at all. Harsh lines are airbrushed, imperfections glossed over, dreams and realities confused with the other. My eyes fell into the same focus as I stared at the blue sky. The white clouds turned grey, disappearing the longer I stared. I’d like to think I’m not forgetful, in fact quite the opposite. My heart focused on the memories much faster than my eyes ever could. The grainy, blurred memories were moments worth reliving. And although these moments will get lost in the blueness of the sky, the soft colors have already marbled inside my chest.


The Girl in the Escaramuza Dress Celine Vazquez My hands gingerly trace over Laced ribbons – rivers of red, green, and white embedded into my chocolate brown hair. I dance in a ball gown of history: short staffed in the way Of pride, a weary hand producing the dough to Survive, a hopeful soul crossing the tides that Consume settled lives. My grandmother, mi Abuela, spills her words of grace from a careful Spout of wonder. Her words dance on the streams of my movements, on the celebration of the stars. My tiled shoes, dusted with my mother’s hopes and aspirations: heavy steps moving towards a life unknown. Dances of the leaves, a swirling fest of blithesome petals – colorful motions aching to be learned. The steps are fastidious, the heartbeats of the Ones who proceed towards a better life. Each vestige is a movement towards the past, a trilogy lost in a derelict moment. My history Is in the dust of those who left it, of those Who forgot to remember. Eyelashes fail to Envelop the pain, constant drips of silence reminisce to be found. The clear blue ponds trickle Gently, swooning over mountains kissed with purple shadows. My grandmother caresses my face gently. A tired, wrinkled hand heavy with knowing Heavy with experience Heavy with three lives. Two eyes open wide, the depths of steep mountains rimmed with overused trust. Te amo para todo my vida. Her words are softly nurtured by a sickly sweet tune, each syllable carefully plucked from the mellow streets of her hometown. My history is not left behind in the ashes, Nor in the pebbled roads of my pueblo. My history is now. Written in ink, stained on my insurgent hands. Waiting to be rewritten, waiting for my moment to pass on.


Part II. Visual.

Angela Reyes-Gomez


Clarissa Farfan


Photo Series by Nyah Austin


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Celine Vazquez


Aminah Chavez


Graciela Salinas


Josephine Vargas


Celine Vazquez


Lydia Nuñez


Photo Series by Kathleen Ngo


Profile for Ramona Convent Arts Magazine

Glimpse - 2018 Ramona Convent Arts Magazine  

Glimpse - 2018 Ramona Convent Arts Magazine  

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