Des Mot, Des Images Literary Anthology

DES MOTS, DES IMAGES

Vistamar School

Volume Four

Spring 2024

Cover Image:

Mateo Francisco

Faculty Advisors:

Jennifer Silver

Neal Von Flue

Thanks to:

Chris Bright, Silvie Deutsch.

Also our gratitude to the faculty and alumni who created this publication series from 2008-2010. We are proud to pick up the tradition.

The copyrights of all work herein are held by the individual artists. Publication of this book is copyright 2024 Vistamar School.

Tristan Kim

The World of Childhood

I remember the path

Guiding me homeward

With the cross overlooking

Atop the hill's crest

The winding trail

Through rows of houses

And there, in the corner

Lies the one hidden

Where my memories reside

Kept away and locked within

I remember the walk down one block

To our favorite taco spot

Which made me feel like an adult

Now I've grown up

And the world is much bigger

Than one block

Graduation

I remember when I was young

Family camping trips were frequent

We went up to the mountains

Escape the city to relax on the water

Id take my mom around the lake

On our kayak

Proud I was able to paddle on my own

Unbeknownst to me

My mom has been paddling

My entire life for me

So I could sit back and relax

now I must take the paddles back

Venture on past the calm waters of the lake

To the ocean where adventure and experience awaits

-Lucas Alvarez

My Mirrors

The reflection of silvered glass

A world unfolds, both bleak and grand

My life in fragments

Where truths are held in silent hands

Within the depths of polished sheen

Lies echos of forgotten dreams

Where my memories flicker, ghostly seen

Sitting before this glass

Hours spent staring

In fractured light’s fragmented streams, Each surface, a canvas

My years fly by, before my eyes

Reflecting tears of joy and fear

Capturing moments, fleeting and dear

I watch myself grow

In the mirrored realms where I appear

The

Park

In the heart of a bustling city’s gleam

Where the neon lights paint dreams on the screen

There lies a park, a quiet retreat

Where moments pause in whispered beat

A symphony of leaves in gentle breeze

Each rustle a tail untold

Of secrets shared and tears shed

A bench, withered by times embrace

Waits patiently for a soul to grace, Teaching solitude and serenity

Here, amidst the urban sprawl

Natures refuge, a timeless call

A sanctuary from the rush a roar

A place to ponder, dream, and explore

That's where I found myself tonight

Sitting on a bench,

Watching stars

-Isela Arsan

A Whiff of Nostalgia

I remember it like it was yesterday.

The smell of chlorine in our hair from a long day in the pool, the smell of sunscreen all washed off by the water, So faint, yet so prevalent.

I walk into my house through the sliding glass door with cheeks so rosy, it’s clear my efforts to stay away from the UV failed drastically.

My ears are pungently hit with the sound of Billy Joel playing from a disk on our old stereo.

My nose tingles with the fragrance of dinner being prepared.

The corn boiling for corn on the cob, like always.

Silverware clanking and people running around the hectic kitchen.

I walk back outside to visit my dad with wine in hand, standing at the barbecue.

The burning, delicious smell of his infamous steak.

I open my eyes.

A gasp enters my mouth, I snap out of the memory I was engulfed in.

All smells that made me filled with such content and excitement, now almost make me tear up.

A subtle thrashing reminder that my childhood is over, and such an amazing one at that.

I wish I could remember it all, Down to every minute detail, But now all I have left from it, Is the smell of my youth.

-Courtney Avrit

When I first met you, at a young age, you tasted like the sweetest candy one could try. You were vibrant colorful, playful.

I memorized your lyrics. I appreciated your beat through the nodding of my head and tapping of my fingers. When I heard you, I could feel your tone and groove roll over my shoulders.

You didn't have meaning yet, though. Not in my mind at least.

You were just something to enjoy with others, friends, family, and you felt like being in a warm blanket, all bundled up, comfortable.

You first presented yourself as more than just words and a beat, when I became a teenager in this world. Instead of just listening to you, for the first time, at the age of thirteen, you really spoke to me. I didn’t just hear you, I felt you.

It felt as though my heart and soul were being fed, Tasting like full on satisfaction. You were speaking what I have always felt. The thoughts and emotions that I have suppressed, now you were directly serving them to me, and it felt right.

You have no idea how much you have done for me, how much you have gotten me through, how much you mean to me.

-Courtney Avrit

Family Dinner

The door is what separates us from the savory scents and aromas inside.

Smoke floats from the kitchen and fills the air, luring us in Although it’s our “usual spot” it never gets old, The city never sleeps and reminds us that we are always welcome.

We get comfortable. Hot green tea for me, and sake for them. The connection comes back, and of course, she remembers.

Delectable appetizers; Yakko, ohitashi, grilled rice, assorted pickles, and age-dashi soup.

Although mom suggests, “Let’s try something new!” We stick with the same-old. But the “same-old” is fine with me.

The main course, teba-saki wings. Delicious and enjoyable. The best conversation always happens over food.

Going for seconds isn’t unusual. We follow up with another order.

The smoky seasoning is hypnotizing, and the taste of the food is just as enticing.

We take our last sips, share the final bites. Then we share our gratuity, paying it forward.

“Take your time,” she says. Our home is yours. And it truly does feel that way.

-Jonas Black

The Rain

In the city's heart, People rush, their paths apart. Everyone is listening to the rain.

Children laugh and play, Mud and puddles, their ballet. Everyone is listening to the rain.

Artists paint their dreams, Colors blend in watery streams. Everyone is listening to the rain.

Lovers share a kiss, Rain, a witness to their bliss. Everyone is listening to the rain.

Workers end their day, Homeward bound, they make their way. Everyone is listening to the rain.

In the quiet night, Stars obscured from human sight. Everyone is listening to the rain.

Though our lives diverge, In the rain, our souls converge. Everyone is listening to the rain.

-Jonas Black

The Unforgettable Aroma

Scent, it’s a game changer

Powerful enough to linger

Think about it, day in, day out,

We’re taking in the world through scent

No doubt

Our noses, they work overtime

More than eyes, ears, taste or touch

But for me, there’s this one aroma that sticks

Unforgettable, it plays tricks

It’s like that moment in Ratatouille,

A memory rush, so unruly

That shiver down the spine

I know it well

Thanks to the crockpot’s smell

Flashback to those school days

The moment that scent hit, it was a craze

I knew right then, trouble was brewing

A culinary disaster stewing

The crockpot days, they always flopped

Every time a crock pot was seen, my heart stopped

Worst was after soccer, coming home beat

Walking in, getting greeted by that feat

Shin guards, cleats, and crockpot stew

A triple threat, enough to make me spew

A mix so vile, it could outdo

Any horror film through and through

That blend of bad food and sweat

An absolute nightmare, on which you can bet

Worse than any scare on screen

Enough to fuel a horror unseen

-Dylan

Blaney

High Maintenance

A squad of six on the clock 24/7

One mistake and it’s goodbye heaven

Always on, no breaks allowed

Or they’ll find themselves in the unemployment crowd

This crown’s not easy, it’s a full time gig

Gotta keep it secure, can’t let it slip

The bed can’t be a rock or dustbin scene

Has to be just right, nice and pristine

Too tough or too grimy is a no

If that happens, no sleeping

Just tossing and turning, until he has to go

Under lock and key, always in the know

With Life 360 to track the show

Knowing every move, every step it takes

Security is on lock, no mistakes

He absolutely loves this, bossing the crew

Ordering around is what he’s born to do

He doesn’t see the fuss, or what’s at stake

All he cares about is what happens after cake

The Duke needs a place to crash for the night

And a ride to breakfast at next morning’s light

Life of luxury, demands non stop

In the Duke’s world, he’s always on top

-Dylan Blaney

The Table

Distinct territory coated in deep black

Complimented by an ominous silence

The air is a cluster of colognes, perfumes, and deodorants

Within this space everything has weight

And it is inexcusable to be late

Suddenly, Flashbang

The sound of a gun

Spotlight

Exploding sun

Now the meeting has begun

The cone sits on his throne

He shines as he is gazed upon

The others carefully chose their words

Lest they begone

Branching from the flock

Crows scheme in shadow

Racing against the clock

Evil has a schedule

Sipping from wine glasses

Smirking with despicable faces

Intertwined like cables

Sitting at the table

-Andrew Butler

Brotherhood

Brotherhood is an unyielding shackle which binds the spirits of men

Put it under raging fires

The merciless cold

Hell, even a chainsaw

Brotherhood will not break

Through an eternity of war

Of hate and of darkness

Brotherhood will not break

It is scarred up and down

As if it were a warrior of the primal era

Under a magnifying glass one might see the cavernous history

That fills every laceration

Any simple story

Is a labyrinth of complexity

The walls inscribed with tellings of marvelous adventures

Brotherhood is an unforgettable feeling that cannot be eroded by separation

Through the traumatic battles it has and will endure

Brotherhood will not break

Rather it will emerge from the ashes

Stronger than when it was once forged

Penny Chang

-Andrew Butler

The Path

Beneath the open sky, a trail leads my way, Through fragrant memories of a camping day. Cooking fires dance, scents in a play, In nature's kitchen, where memories stay.

The crackling flames, while a culinary song was sang, Metaphors bloom as the night grows strong. Smoke-kissed air, where memories thrive, Camping meals, where feelings drive.

In the sizzling pan, memories ignite, Metaphors flutter in the soft moonlight. Aromas blend, creating a nostalgic height, Camping tales, a memory's delight.

Dinner calls echo in the whispering pines, Tastes mingle with the rustling signs. Guided by the trail, where memory intertwines, Camping food, a sensory story aligns.

Amidst the embers' glow, stories unfold, Whispers of adventures, both young and old. Stars above, witness to tales retold, Camping nights, a saga to be extolled.

Marshmallow moments, toasted and sweet, Metaphors roasting, a memory's heartbeat. Cackling laughter, echoes complete, Camping bonds, where moments meet.

As the trail winds on, memories in tow, Nature's verses penned, with a soft, steady flow. In the heart's campground, where emotions grow, Camping tales, an everlasting glow.

-Caiden Chen

Basketball

A player's perspective on the court they stand

Dribbling, shooting, executing the plan

He ascends and dunks with might, A display of skill, pure and bright.

The referees’ graze, sharp, and keen

Ensuring fairness in every scene

Whistles blow call made with precision

Balancing the game with impartial decision

Spectators voices roar passion they loudly pour

Cheering their team with pride

Emotion riding on every stride

The ball it always flew

Passing through hands old and new Froom dribbling to swishes it knows the tale

In every bounce, history unveiled

The hoop stands tall

So high that players fall

For every shot that if fins its mark

Victory sparked

From the bench eager subs await

Like abe they went on change their fate

Supporting roles ye vial still

Their contribution is a thrill

From the announcer's booth voices ring

Narrating the drama each play a thing

The announcer screams

While everyone is on stream

The ball boy small yet grand Ensuring supply at players’ command Fetching rebounds, keeping the game inflow In their hands basketball pulse does grow

Journals capture moments with their ink Chronically victories, the high and the brink In every story the games essence unfolds In baslketabll’s narrative they find the pearls

As the final buzzer resounds loud, Echoing through the arena's proud crowd. It's not just a game but a shared emotion In basketball’s embrace we find connection

In practice gyms, echoes resound As skills are honed, as talent is found With every drill they strive for perfection In basketball’s relentless affection

From the coach’’s tower a game unfolds

Strategizing movement as tales are told Each player a pawn in the grand scheme Crafting victory like a painter’s dream

On the hardwood court players stand tall Dribbling and shooting giving their all Heartbeats sync with the bounce of the ball In pursuit of glory, they rise and fall.

-Caiden Chen

#1

The intermingling aromas of shampoo and freshly cut hair never fail to elicit a warm smile. Their graceful sweetness carries an air of familiarity that instantly transports me to a place of comfort and joy. With each inhale, I'm enveloped in a blissful scent that evokes cherished memories of moments spent with my dogs.

This delightful fragrance is a reminder that my furry companions have returned home, freshly groomed and radiating happiness. It's a scent that fills the air with a sense of contentment, like a gentle embrace that soothes the soul. As I bask in its aroma, I'm reminded of countless memories of us in the park, cozy snuggles on lazy afternoons, and the unconditional love that binds us together.

In the presence of this enchanting scent, joy naturally blossoms within me, infusing every moment with a profound sense of gratitude and warmth. It's a reminder of the simple pleasures in life and the deep connections we share with our faithful companions.

#2

I am absolutely in love with the world of baseball. Nothing brings me greater joy than seeing my teammates flourish and grow.

The warmth and kindness exhibited by our coaches and fans only add to the beauty of the sport. What truly sets baseball apart for me is the opportunity it provides for social interaction on and off the field.

The lively conversations and the vibrant atmosphere make every moment spent playing baseball incredibly fulfilling. Each aspect of the game, from the teamwork to the friendly banter, fills me with boundless love and appreciation.

-Rocco Cretacci

Move-in Day

Oh darlin’ don’t you ever grow up,

Just stay this little

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture

And save it from the funny tricks of time

Just stay this simple I watch her go

With a surge of that well-known sadness

I let precious time go by

Oh darlin’ don’t you ever grow up

She keeps on growing…

Here I am in my new apartment

They just dropped me off

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

Slipping through my fingers

I let precious time go by

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture I don’t want to grow up

I wish I’d never grown up

Just stay this little

A See-through Mirror

Two strangers intertwined.

Our connection lost, We never knew it was there.

A train leaving the station

In a distant memory.

Ruffling the hairs on my arms, Like a gust of wind.

Our paths have never crossed, We come from different times.

Our time together non-existent. I know you’re there.

You know I am there.

But we will never meet.

-Alex Dreyer

Same View Different Feel

It was beautiful

I’d been here before

More times than I could count

But today it was different

Every sound louder

Birds chirping

The branches cracking

The gust of wind blowing by

The wind heavy

We felt the cold breeze

It didn’t matter

I still felt the warmth

Like a light inside

But what made me feel like that

It could’ve been the view

The millions of car lights in the distance

Mountains on the horizon

Or the sunshine as it set into the ocean

Maybe it was their voice

It was sincere and honest

With a feeling of comfort behind each word

The feeling of safety I had

As time flew by

I’ve gone back to that place

It’s not the same

I want to go back

To that familiar place

-Christian Fernandez

Eyes

Your eyes glimmer

The way the sun reflects in the sea

All eyes on it

Everyone watches it shine

Its glow is blinding

As it lightens them up

Changing how they feel

Making them come back

Some days the light is blocked

Clouds block that sunlight

But it doesn’t last

You always come back

Once the clouds pass

I’m glad I can see it every day

Every day I wake up I see it

When I’m going to bed I see it

I never want to leave the warmth

Constantly growing

Becoming brighter every day

I’ll always see your light

Forever

-Christian Fernandez

13 Ways

In a world of hues behold

Whose essence sticks out uncannily

She tastes like a spoonful of fresh honeycomb

Sweet nectar dripping

Reflecting off of an iris

Warming each soul with her embrace

Like the sun's rays on a spring afternoon

Or the soft touch of a scrap of velvet

A voice echos softly

She sounds like your favorite childhood memory

Her glow like a beacon of hope in the darkest of times

It's more than just a feeling you can almost taste it

Like a firm hug from your grandma

-Micah Fleming

Oasis Of The Desert

Under the sun’s fiery gaze Lies an oasis of the desert

Where life blooms

Swaying palm trees offer shady relief

The sun kisses the horizon

She shimmers like a mirage

Each dawn brings a promise Every dusk an embrace

Where land and sea meet Holds a jewel for everyone

Time slows to a gentle ripple

A grain of sand in an hourglass

Waves crash against the shore

Friends splash in the pool

The mountains stand tall

The ants march about

To dream of a cool spring

In the warmest of places

-Micah Fleming

Better Me Loves New York

When I was a kid I wanted to do the dishes

Like the kids on tv

I didn't have any responsibilities

I wanted to be like Johnny test

I wanted to be the better version of me

I would beg my teachers for homework

I wanted the only other version of life I had seen

I wanted to recreate all of my favorite televised teens

Imitate to feel like who I wanted to be

I knew homework wasn't supposed to be fun

But that was the point I just wanted to relate to the struggle

And like everyone else endure

As I have grown older I no longer want to live like Johnny test

But I still have interest

In relating to the person I want to be

But as I grow older more and more I realize

That maybe the person I want to be

Simply isn't me

It's a warm sunny day

The kind a better me would love

My aunt asks if I want to walk to the bodega

And I know thats the type of

Thing I want to enjoy

My mind tells me I should

My soul wants to stay inside

My mind wins this time

I go out it's a beautiful day

I throw out a smile

Giving my best performance

I say I love this city

Even though it couldn't feel more boring

Yet I am not in misery

Because while I dont love the city

I do love the feeling of being the better me

And while it isn't necessarily honest I don't care

When has being honest gotten anyone anywhere

Besides that feeling in my soul is often wrong

Feeling weak shouldn't stop me from being strong

If your supposed to be yourself how come sometimes it feels wrong

I want say I love how the city feels like it has an identity

And I do to be the better me

I know I am lying

But I wish that I wasn't

They say fake it until you make it

But what if I couldn't

It's been years and I don't feel how I should

I should love how busy everyone looks

How unique everything looks

But I don't

I could never admit it

Instead I think, “What would the better me say?”

-Abe Freedman

Perfect Kitty

Soft orange fur

Adorable face with Messy whiskers

Clumsy little paws

That little face

Looks up at me

Innocent and perfect

He can do no wrong

Except he is stealing

His brother’s breakfast

Together

Laying on top of each other

Hiding in the gray crate

In that El Segundo pet store

On adoption day

Scared of all the chaos

With nowhere to go

I went over to see them

They calmed down

Comforted by chin scratching

Brothers, the volunteer said

Had to go together

We took them home

In that gray crate

Piled on top of each other

They stayed like that

Only venturing out of the crate

To eat when we were away

Eventually they explored And found a hidden nook

Now they hide up there

When the ground shakes Or the vacuum cleaner comes out

On top of each other

Scared of the chaos But together

Judgment

Judgment is a vice

Tearing others down in your mind But hurting yourself more

Easing the pain that you caused Just to reflect back unto yourself

The pain you caused another

Every layer you peel back of another

You see a layer deeper of yourself

Peering back with eyes of arrogance and disgust

Mirroring what you once saw

Like a fish staring at a reflection of yourself, on the surface of a pond, made of the tears you shed

-Evan Fromm

-Dayton Greenwald Penny Chang

Art, my love

I knew you before I knew that I knew you.

You give me purpose and a reason to keep pushing

You are the booster seat I’m sitting on while I take the wheel

Without you, I’d be driving blind.

Ultimately crashing and burning.

Simply gone?

Death is the blank page at the end of the book

Where does the character go?

They couldn’t have just ceased to exist

I mean, their body is still here

Soon to be the next meal for fungi and maggots

Or be converted to dust that once was

A daughter or son, or perhaps someone’s everything

only for it to come to an abrupt end

After so many happy years

They spent building their lives together.

It’s unfair the book ends when it does,

But you can’t conjure up an extra chapter,

At least a real one, anyway.

It’s unavoidable though, once you start

Reading a book eventually you’ll reach the end,

Ayana Cuevas

Sophia Jeffords

Satisfying or not.

Death is the blank page at the end of the book,

One story ends but new ones begin.

Everything goes on.

-Harper Hearne

Playing the Odds

Living a life of chance

Dreams may take flight

A gambler's passion fuels the night

A symphony of risk

A dance with fate

Each wager a challenge

An endless path of possibility

Like a sailor at sea navigating the waves

Each parlay its own ship

Setting sail with hope taking a chance

But beware the warning of greed

For its the downfall many face

Through valleys of hope

Through peaks of despair

The gambler ventures forth with his rare spirit

In the heart lies the heartbeat of each parlay

The life of a gamble

Let the dice roll and the cards fall

Destiny will call

And you will either hold or fold

-Cameron

Holiday

A Dream

In my heart, a flame flickers, Through fierce crackles and bright light. A wildfire of dreams burns through the night, In words of passion and will, My whole life as an athlete.

Our minds run deep and wide, Like an ocean where ambition dives deep, Beneath the surface where silence is dark. Resilience and hope motivate us well, This is where our dreams begin.

Determination stands as a tall mountain, Above the clouds of doubt, Its peaks in the sun clear and unbothered. This is where our dreams take flight.

With each breath, a wind carries us forward, The whispers of endurance, The spirit of endlessness. This is where our dreams continue.

In the athlete's nature is a symphony, Through sweat and tears, Victory and loss, Lies the athlete fighting for a dream.

-Cameron Holiday

Voyage Through Night's Labyrinth

City lights blur, tires grip, the night races, Streets morph into rivers under neon embraces. Reality's grip loosens with each daring curve, Asphalt dreams and starlight daringly swerve.

The car, now a vessel, sails beyond the mundane, Through cosmic rivers, where dreams and stars reign. Driving transcends, a flight without wings, In a world where the concrete and celestial sings.

Skyscrapers tower like guardians of night, Their figures casting shadows, blocking moonlight. But in this darkness, our spirits ignite, Finding freedom in the velocity of our flight.

The engine's roar is a beast unleashed, In the city's heart, where time has ceased. Each moment stretches, a timeless feast, Where past and future momentarily meet.

Neon signs flicker, a Morse code of desires, Guiding travelers through streets that aspire. To be more than asphalt, more than mere routes, But pathways to dreams, where hope sprouts.

Our journey's rhythm, marked by the beat of the heart, A symphony of movement, each part playing its art. The night's embrace, a canvas vast and wide, On which our fears and dreams collide.

As dawn approaches, the city sheds its skin, Revealing a world where new days begin. Our voyage ends not, for in this last turn, we find, A revelation profound, leaving the night behind.

In this final twist, as stars give way to light, We discover our souls, reborn from the night. No longer just travelers on a path well trod, But explorers of life, at the intersection of asphalt and God.

-Gavin Janz

The Winter Cabin

Snow cloaks the cabin in silent white, A sentinel in the hush of winter’s night. Each flake whispers of worlds unseen, A canvas blank, serene, pristine.

Within, the fire's heart beats strong, Against the cold, where shadows belong.

Smoke ascends, a spirit's sigh, Merging with the grey, morning sky.

Here, isolation weaves its peace, A sacred space where all else ceases. In this embrace of snow and light, The cabin stands, alone in the night.

Beneath the moon's soft, silver gaze, The forest whispers, caught in a haze. Each tree a guardian, ancient, and wise, Holding stories beneath the starlit skies.

Footprints weave a solitary path, A testament to the wanderer's wrath.

Yet in this realm of frost and gleam, Lies a refuge for the soul to dream.

The chill air, with its biting grace, Carves tales of resilience on the face.

Where warmth is more than a mere embrace, But a victory in winter's relentless chase.

As dawn breaks, with a subtle might, The cabin, aglow, is a breathtaking sight. A bastion of hope in the endless fight, Between darkness and the coming light.

And so it stands, through blizzard's roar, A beacon for those who seek more. In its silence, a profound lore, Of life's essence, to the core.

The final twist, a revealed truth, In the heart of winter, an eternal youth. For within the snow, and in the frost, Lies a beauty that's never lost.

This cabin, a symbol, stark and bright, Against winter's long, unforgiving night. A reminder of our own inner light, That shines forth, undimmed, and ever bright.

-Gavin Janz

Mom

It roars with booms

It spits with grace

As blue as the sky

As deep as space

Mysterious like mars

Magnificent when midnight

But with some people it doesn't sit right

The rocks back & forth on my boat out at sea

Reminds me of times when I was a baby with my mom rocking me

Only this mom is bigger, bluer, and wields power

But my mom only shows hers when she's sour

Relationships

Surfing is a complicated relationship

Not with ocean

Or with the waves.

Mixed emotions build

Sleep lessens

All while being frozen.

Yet, the heart is full

The body is sound

And the sleep is better

Surfing is a complicated relationship.

The Garden

The taking of a life

Sits deep in the ground

Like a forgotten garden, Overgrown.

The weeds grow healthier

Over the flowers once tended to, Remembered.

Dried out like old paper, Crumbling in the blue hands

Of the lost.

There lies she

Taken too soon

Forgotten by families, Lawyers, And police.

The location known only by her own.

When the age is done

Her bones become uncovered.

-Leo Kiely

-Leo Kiely

One day the house decomposes

The garden becomes a park

A dog scurries by With a bone in his mouth.

Blue and red lights

Sirens nearing A mother cries, Worn down and tried.

She asks who could have done this The policeman simply turns And says He died in prison long ago.

The Islands

Gray air, the roads, Choked with motorcycles. Greasy food melts On the tongue.

Traffic, the telephone poles Leading off to nowhere. Overgrown vines swallow Damp houses.

Quite beautiful.

Since the white man came, They have been tamed.

Washed out golden skin, Smooth hands, get rid Of your almond eyes.

Lose your tongue. Marry an American man. Get your child out of here.

-Kai LaBella

Dahlia Solomon

My Nose, My Hand, My Court

On the basketball court, where dreams take flight, Senses ignite in the heat of the fight. The sound of sneakers on polished floor, A rhythm that echoes, forevermore. The scent of anticipation hangs in the air, A mix of sweat and leather, a familiar care. Each bounce of the ball, a symphony's beat, As players compete in this rhythmic feat.

The touch of the ball, smooth and firm, Guiding hands with skill, each twist and turn. Dribbles and passes, a physical ballet, In this arena where champions play.

The slap of high-fives, a gesture of pride, A bond between teammates, cannot be denied. In the clash of bodies, strength and grace, The court becomes a sacred space.

Smell of victory, sweat, and victory, In the game's intensity, a strong symphony. The sense of touch and smell, intertwined, In the heart of the game, where passions combine.

On the basketball court, where senses collide, Memories are made, in the retreat and pride. With each dribble, each shot, we excel, In this arena, where senses dwell.

-Luke Lagao

You Feel

You Feel:

In the heart of the court, where passion reigns, Passion ignites, like wildfire chains. A symphony of intensity, both fierce and free, In the dance of the game, where dreams decrease.

You Feel:

With each dribble, a pulse of desire, Beneath the hoop's glow, emotions inspire.

The thud of the ball, a thunderous beat, Echoes the emotion, where passions meet.

You Feel:

In the gleam of the eyes, determination gleams, As players chase dreams, fueled by their schemes. With every jump shot, a surge of joy, A taste of victory, sweet temptation like a little boy.

You Feel:

Among the chaos, a unity forms, Bridging divides, weathering storms. For in basketball's embrace, we find release, A canvas for passion, a sanctuary of peace.

You Feel:

From the roar of the crowd to the silence profound, Emotions intertwine, in a dance around.

In the clash of wills, and the glory of fight, Passion ignites, in the realm of flight.

You Feel:

So let the ball bounce, let the court roar, In basketball's realm, we learn more. In passion's embrace, we find our call, Forever interlaced, with the game's thrall.

-Luke Lagao

In the Quiet of the Concert Hall

I

In a room filled with silence, The only sound

Is the soft breathing of the piano.

II

I am of two minds, Like a composer

In which there are two melodies

III

The piano whispers in the dim light

A subtle player in the orchestra of the night

IV

A person and a piano Are one.

A person, a piano, and a song Are one.

V

I do not know which to prefer,

The precision of keys

Or the mystery of improvisation, The piano’s melody

Or the moment just before.

VI

Shadows dance on the ivory keys,

52 white, 26 black

The echo of a note

Rings through the silence

Unraveling a story

VII

To those who wander,

Searching for worlds beyond reach,

Can you not feel the piano’s notes

Echoing the journies, hidden deep within your heart?

Ayana Cuevas

Ayana Cuevas

VIII

I know the language of chords And the rhythm of heartbeats; But I know, too,

That the piano is aware of what I feel

IX

When the music fades into silence, It outlines the space Of countless memories.

X

At the touch of the pianist, Even the coldest heart It would warm with melody.

XI

They played under the moonlight In a trance of harmony.

Once, a shiver ran through them, As they felt the piano’s soul merge with their own.

XII

The melody is flowing. The piano is speaking.

XII

It was sunset in the concert hall. The anticipation was visible. And then, the piano sang, Grasping onto the audience

-Kota LaRoque

Ashes to Ambition

The grade falls to your hands, An ‘F’ glaring up at you, A command: ‘See me after class.’

Your body recoils, a gust of disbelief chilling your spine. You slump, like a bookshelf stripped of its supports, Unsteady, dust settling in the spaces where confidence once stood.

And now, you are the collapsing structure, Shaking on the edge of despair.

Yet, in this moment of despair, A spark ignites within.

Rise, though the weight feels unliftable!

Not just to stand, but to tower. Shake off the debris of doubt!

Let the fire within erupt, Transforming the ashes of failure Into the fuel for your determination

-Kota LaRoque

Future

There is no one in this room besides me and this house contains a hot heart under the shadow.

Through the window, you could see the center of the city.

But you can't see inside of her heart through her words a vast ocean, it is like booking for a needle in a haystack. sail toward the center of the ocean, but you can't see the center.

The sun in the darkness is the only light.

-Derek Lin

Golden Skill

His golden hair matched his golden driving skills

In the road by the blue bay, driving his dark blue chariot. In his deep eyes, can not see the light of the traffic light. In the fierce driving, he can only keep comparing with the wind. He said he was the fastest in the universe, but he forgot about the turtle in front of him.

Because he was driving a BMW, his car was parked in the middle of the street.

-Derek Lin

Burnt orange peels, Not in the sense of waxy, grimy playdough or crayola crayon way.

Ginkgo leaves,

A stinge that makes your nose wrinkle as the corners of your lips creep into a smile.

Deep dark red paint, The tart taste of cherries.

Kyoto Falls,

Incense swirls and tickles the air, the scent of rusty bells, red bean mochi, deer.

Sweet potatoes, Caramelized, fired, aluminum foil, street cart whistles, 5 p.m sunsets.

Scratchy knits, Maroons, runny noses, tissues in pockets, apple-ginger tea.

Golden tempura, Mushroom, shrimp, kabocha, crisp.

Golf put clicks and dishware tinks, windchime songs.

Thick grey fog,

Like the incense in Kyoto, moist, cold, green, gouache.

Herman Miller furniture, Metal, wood, leather, pleats, simple.

My バーバ.

Mateo Francisco

-Nyna Manabe

Library of Alexandria

Accidentally misclicking -

Losing millions of tabs -

The concert tickets that sell out in minutes -

The vintage ebay listing bid -

The pirated movie website -

The unsaved essay -

The 87 unbought items in the shopping cart -

The limited edition clothing drop -

The unfinished solitaire game -

The wordle and crossword -

All gone in one click

Just as the burning of the Library of Alexandria -

With one fire -

Losing legendary, historical relics -

The knowledge -

The inspiration -

The work -

The ancient documents -

The Great Library -

All gone with one fire

A true tragedy - a devastating loss

One misclick can cause

-Nyna Manabe

Aphrodite

Aphrodite was born from a pomegranate

And like her mother, she is a vessel devoured

The curse echoes through the feminine consciousness

Hera’s cherry is popped

Her seeds spilled out from sticky jam with echoes of pain and shame

And her husband asked for a stitch

Like our mothers before

Our existence is policed

Stained and pathetic for being ripped open

A women is applauded for being neatly cut into

A woman is to be consumed

Her flesh is food, her womb is residency

Discard the blood, sickness, pleasure and insecurity like a banana peel

To be a woman, you must be a product

-Samantha Olmedo

Your Grandmother

Tick, tick, tick

The clock is a metronome for my needles

As I stitch together a form of love

I think of my grandkids

Of a newborn soul with such small hands

Tucked into mittens.

I think of the water that pours through coffee filters

How the steam drifts slow into the air, and the coffee bare

Lays still on the table

The metronome clock beats with my heart

I am knitting together a scarf for my love

The white wool crinkles like the coffee filter of yesterday

My knitting needles puddle into hot water, clear as my hometown’s

And it warms my aching hands

I see now the scarf is drenched in vanilla syrup and bird seeds

My fingernails bloom into posies

And the clock is full of birdsong

I see my old house

Lunnah Urias

Lunnah Urias

-Samantha Olmedo

Beach Girl

walking around in her hand knitted sweater in the sun in the rain in the subtle oceanic fog she looks very cozy

and whenever she walks by her halo glows a bright warm yellow calling me like a moth to a lamp

if you get close enough to take a peek inside her halo a strange memory manifests

she takes a sip from her glass filled with a sweet lemony soda seated outside an artsy cafe by the beach it's a sunny but breezy morning some surfer boys pass by, walking back from their morning victories at sea

she grew up there she takes it everywhere she goes I have been lucky enough to be invited inside her halo and see myself sitting next to her sipping lemony soda in front of that artsy cafe

-Ethan

Pena

Victorious Warrior

have you ever seen a WWII documentary where they show an obligatory shot of a war torn city the streets bombed crumbling buildings but there is that one church bell tower it has a massive hole yet it still stands stoic her face can barely lie however the sweat stained winces of the pain in her legs her arms her shoulders I can tell she wants to rest

but that church tower never topples and neither will she

Checkered finish line where treasure awaits

Dance of life, freedom found

Fog from the morning breath, a runner emerges out from the smoke

Gravity's pull is holding them down to the ground

Untamed thoughts run through the mind faster than the air

-Ethan Pena Run

Stride's rhythm plays in the silence

Every step echos a beat of music

Weaving between paths beneath the open sky

Backdrop of the boundless sky

The road is unfurling beneath the stomping feet

Landscaping the mind through the journey on the run

Flying above in the limitless air, soaring on an unstoppable flight

Paradise

Whispers are met at the sea in Kauai

Honolulu Bay, a sanctuary of hope and happiness

Golden sands stretch out along the coastline

The sky painted bright, the colors radiate reflecting off the water

The magnificent waves weave, telling a story with every break

Coconut trees sway with the whispers of a gentle breeze

Life's chase toward peace, the stillness of the soul on the beach

Cherishing the moment in time, and what is in front of you

The beauty of the greatest fantasy, a sacred space

Warmth is cast upon the land, the sun beams down as a fierce force

The dance of light and the grace of good and the forgiveness of evil

-Jagger Sargent

Blue and green

I met you before I knew you,

Looking in your eyes of a blue-green hugh,

I see you everyday but you always feel new,

You are constantly playfully twisting a turning not quite knowing when to stop,

In tidal pools, a world of wonders thrives,

Where tiny creatures dance and come alive,

And footprints fade, erased by playful tides,

As whispers of the ocean softly guide,

You are beautiful dangerous and constantly in my minds eye

twins?

Are you twins

I see a resemblance here

We look at each other and grin

This is the billionth time this year

Inside jokes take form between kin

In laughter and mischief our bond premier, Forever connected, forever near.

She is my sister through thick and thin

Forever connected just like a twin

-Lexi Sawlsville

Two Waring Artists

We see a man, a little bit delusional, words that ignite debate

We witness the controversy each album he creates. Who does he adore and who adores him?

We find a spreader of love, one that only cherishes kindness.

A man that might be adored by just about anyone. His words possess the ability to redeem the worst of us

The worst of us

We see one delusional and propelled by craziness

Passionate about his music but disrespects and offends our community

The kindest to our community

He sacrificed his life for his religion

He could compose the best music on the spot

A mumbler and jumbler

He's aging.

His music rescued us but it wounded us.

Two sides of the same coin, artists with a message

One spreads love, the other sparks outrage Kanye's genius overshadowed by his ego

Marley's humility shines through his legacy

Different paths, different fates

Both leave an un-expungeable mark on the landscape

-Sam Silver

Sophia Jeffords

Jonas is a Sloth

Jonas is a sloth

His height slows his whole body down

In nature he walks to his destination with time

He climbs his way up to success

Although slow, the predators don't recognize him

He gets to the fruit, not the fastest, but tends to enjoy it the most

He may not get to where he wants to go in a snap

But he takes his time, enjoys his environment., The branch he’s on, he picks out all the details

The details, he pays attention to the details

He cares about the history, sometimes he gets sidetracked on the history

He wants to know how the cracks got on the branch, what branch species is it?

Jonas is a sloth

But in the end he’s happy

Dahlia Solomon

-Sam Silver

Grandma Brown

I remember the cold tile on my feet

A spanish style kitchen that was filled laughter

Grandma brown is in a hawaiian t shirt dress

Its bright blue and stiff

As the can opens the cats jump on the kitchen counter

Meowing as if they had not eaten for days

That's all I can remember

I hope grandma Brown remembers more of me

The television

As I press the button on the remote

I feel the tv glow on my face

Endless opportunities to be transported to a world I have never been

Laugh or cry

I will never be able to decide

The world I choose is sad and mysterious

I am intrigued yet uncomfortable with the themes

This world has changed my life

For better or for worse

Even as I leave it

It will stay with me forever

-Kate Sullivan

Saving Sunday’s Aromas

I open my eyes and then the scent appears

The aroma of food is so alluring

I open my eyes and then the scent appears

Realizing its only Sunday morning

I know the scent

I know why it's here

My favorite part of the day has appeared

Learning the time, I get out of bed

The salty scent, wafts into my bed

The eggs are like the sea, beautiful but salty

Not forgetting about the bacon also

The sweet and smokey maple scent clashes with the egg

Adding to the richness of the Sunday Morning

Leaving behind the fragrant embrace, I step out the door with a measured pace.

Though I leave, the scents, I don’t forget

The peaceful moments I will always cherish and never forget

The Dance of Happiness and Solace

As I wake the sunlight I face

Smiling as bright as can be

Dancing along people singing melodies

As the night falls

So do you

As you remember someone you used to love

Your eyes get watery

But your face still smiling

Because your still happy

In the moonlit glow, memories unfold, A silvered path where love and laughter hold. Each twinkle, a reflection of delight,

Guiding you through the echoes of the night

In the quiet hours, a time of peace, Whispers of solace, and sweet release.

-Sean Tanimura

Who Is the Murderer?

Shaking late night

Screaming

Cut through the night

Blood dance on the wall

Flow to the ground

Knife drop on the ground

Have you ever seen the murderer’s face?

I don’t know

Freezing early morning

Silence

Needle breaks the still

Blood rest on the wall

Deep to the ground

Knife left on the floor

Have you ever seen the murderer’s face?

I don’t know

Cool bright day

Whisper

Talkable gossip magazine

People wrap around

Police complains

Knife holding in hand

Have you ever seen the murderer’s face?

I don’t know

Warm middle day

Knock

Wake the fear

Open your door

Police question

Have you ever seen the murderer’s face?

I don’t know

Blue evening

Blowing

Wind bites you

Police knock knock

You sit behind the desk

Have you ever seen the murderer’s face?

In victim's eye

Santi Cline Lopez

Childhood

Home is on this side of the mountain

The future is on the other side of the mountain I'm on this side of the mountain Grandma is with me

When I grow up

Home is on this side of the mountain

The school is on the other side of the mountain I crossed the mountain

Come to the other side of the mountain Grandma looked at time and waited for me

Adulthood

Home is on this side of the mountain House is on the other side of the mountain I always stay there

Grandma is looking forward to my return

after married

Grandma is on the other side of the mountain

Home is on this side of the mountain I get married and start a business Grandma came to this side of the mountain for the first time

at last

I go back to the other side of the mountain

This side of the mountain I used to go back to Missing my grandma neither here nor there

My Glorious Mexico

In the beautiful land where the sun kisses the desert sand

Where the mountains lay up in the high sky

Lives a tapestry of vibrant colors,

Where the heart of Mexico lives beating strong

Its mountains rise like ancient guardians tall, Watching over valleys, where civilizations sprawl. Each peak a testament to strength and might,

Echoing tales of warriors in the fight.

Mexico, a rose in the desert's expanse, Rooted deep, in history's dance.

Its petals unfurl, a kaleidoscope of light, A beacon of hope in the darkest night.

Like a mariachi melody, Mexico sings With rhythms that make the soul scream

Various dancers fill the streets, with their Sinaloa dresses With every step, a rich history we see

Through bustling streets and markets alike,

Where the scent of delicious food fills the air

Mexico's traditions never despair

Its crystal blue waters, like veins, pulse through the land.

Where waves kiss the shore of the golden sand

Echoing the voice of the motherland.

Like any tale, there is light and darkness,

In Mexico's embrace lies day and night, For with beauty, there is struggle too, Yet Mexico's resilient soul blooms like morning dew.

A Mother’s Cry

In the silent language of a mother's cry, Her body speaks, though lips stay dry. Shoulders sag, burdened with unseen weight, Eyes cast down, bearing the weight of fate. Her hands tremble, tracing lines of worry, Fingers clenched tight, in a silent flurry. Aching arms that once cradled dreams, Now reach out, lost in silent streams.

Her chest rises and falls with each breath, A rhythm broken by the sting of death. Heartbeats echo, a mournful refrain, Echoing loss, echoing pain.

Legs falter, beneath the weight of grief, Steps heavy, seeking solace brief.

Feet drag on, through shadows deep, In search of peace, in restless sleep.

In the language of her body, she weeps, A mother's cry, in silence, seeps. Yet in her embrace, there's love profound, A sanctuary where solace is found.

The Feeling forever lingers in the vast mind

One thought after another as they walk on by You cry like rain falling from the sky Hitting the ground with no sound.

-Elian Vilchez

The First Thing I Remember

Onix was named from her fur

Her eyes were like my sister’s

And her claw meets my face

It wouldn’t be the last

It’s about 7 years later

Now she’s named Minerva

And Beatrix came along

My names are never picked

She eats out of a bowl in a bathroom

Which minerva often steals

At least the dog is nice to her

It’s about 6 years after that They’ve stopped fighting but the kitchen doesn’t smell like dog food anymore

For years I am stuck in a tunnel

It is blocked by a wall of diamond

I claw and scratch to get my way out And soon there will be a hole

The wall

-Mason Wilkes

Lunnah Urias

Santi Cline Lopez

Lunnah Urias