2016-2017 Literary Magazine

La Pietra Literary Magazine 2016-2017

Dedicated to Mrs. Mahina Hugo “Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.” - Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

Table of Contents

I Am From… By Jodi Onoye ‘22 (4) I Am From… B y LaDayne Pascua ‘22 (5) Crutches By Seleah Gruver ‘19 (6) The Balloon By Anonymous (7) We Came By Ship By Lanihuli Gilbert ‘18 (8) The Creepy Guy That Loved Me “Response To Annabel Lee” By Cessna Spear ‘19 (9)

Be You By Sydnie Sambueno ‘19 (10-11) We Are Our Own Miracle B y Haele Sato ‘19 (11) Art Kills Me By Ferrari Hiraga ‘19 (12) Storage Room By Sirena Spurrier ‘20 (13) Ars Poetica II By Angelina Augafa ‘18 (14) More To LIfe By Kaylee Dela Pena ‘19 (15) Real Love By Carly Yamada ‘19 (16) Ode To Equality By Tehara Anata ‘20 (17) Dear God By Cessna Spear ‘19 (18) Unexplained Feeling By Anonymous (19) I Am From… By Emma Rolland ‘22 (20) Perspective By Lily Carlson ‘19 (21) Sorry By Lily Carlson ‘19 (22) Stress Free By Leilani Schlesser ‘19 (23) Sky Diving By Leilani Schlesser ‘19 (24) About Competition By Kuali‘i Copp ‘19 (25) Cheerios By Taylor Lawson ‘19 (26) Flowers At Our Feet By Anonymous (27) Celestial Bodies By Arianna Bow ‘19 (28) I Am From… By Sonja Garcia ‘22 (29) Black Alien By Taylor Lawson ‘19 (30) Pridely Death B y Anonymous (31) Words Sonnet By Kaya Heimowitz ‘20 (32)

Head Editors:

Lanihuli Gilbert ‘18 Talulah Skilling ‘18 Editors:

Tehara Anata ‘20 Mia Birk ‘20 Shayden Glenn ‘18 Catherine Middleton ‘18 Emily Richardson ‘18 Literary Magazine Advisor:

Dr. Pan

I Am From... By Jodi Onoye ‘22 I am crawling around in my first home, to seeing my younger brother for my first time. I am staying up until midnight, looking up at the stars. I am getting my first favorite teddy bear, And still sleeping with it until this day. I am traveling all over the country, To creating my first persona, I am washing my dogs, To listening to music on the radio. I am making new friends wherever I go, And leaving my shoes untied. I am teasing my brother, Even though I love him so much. I am pounding mochi every new year, and I am sketching new characters, to painting ceramic pieces I am wondering when my dad left, And fighting with my mom. I am emotional when people cry, and shy on stage. I am sitting in bed watching Youtube. I am texting my friends I miss very much. I am doodling on my homework. I am singing to my favorite songs. That’s who I am.

I Am From..

By LaDayne Pascua ‘22 I am from ball pits, from strawberry shortcake chairs, and the show “Clifford the Big Red Dog.” I am from annoying, playful, irritating little sisters. I am from the big teddy bear, that feel like soft cotton. From little cars that roam around the mall amazed me. I am from hearing loud conversations on the phone, from smelling steak being cooked and eating candy and cookies that fill me up I am from field trips that felt like an adventure, from watching animals that entertained me. I am from Moms who just talk way too much, but I don’t know what I would do without you.

Crutches

By Seleah Gruver ‘19 It’s not the crutches we decry It’s the need to move forward Tough society limits our urges Girls aren't allowed to play football So they cheer from the sideline in tight uniforms Since we all know football Is a man’s sport Society doesn't allow men to express any weakness So women are suppose to show emotion But not too much or else it’s a cry for attention A man and woman are suppose to be together Since the Bible “says so” And there's acceptance but to a degree So the rate of suicide attempts is four times greater for the LGBT youth Everyone hides behind a facade With the secret thirst for society to quench Their need to be accepted by ALL doncha know

The Balloon By Anonymous

I have a balloon From the happiest place on Earth. A sea of sunken dreams, Vibrant in a crowd of people Like a diamond in an army of stones. I have a balloon That I chose from the nest of stones. It beckoned to me with its magic And my tiny feet seemed to float towards it. I have a balloon That I gripped the thin, white strings of. A phantom wind lunging, Grabbing for my diamond, But I held on tight, my knuckles white, The string digging into my sensitive skin. I clinged to my prize, Fighting off the darkness As it tried to suck my glittering diamond into itself. I have a balloon That I spared from the vicious ghost. My prized possession, Now barely swaying as the youthful wind caressed it’s worn cheek, seconds away from its death. I have carved my diamond piece by piece Until there was nothing left to carve. I have a balloon Wrinkled with age. Now ceasing to exist as it shrunk back, Back into a void of light Where its native kingdom awaits for their jewel’s return.

We Came By Ship By Lanihuli Gilbert ‘18

We are the ship people With rising red in our eyes On our unknown final voyage Seventy nights with no burning star in sight We are the ship people Hands rotted as graveyard rope And skin now crisp leather from that white light For how am I to know how cane is to be chopped We are the ship people But our roots go deep This land has called us to its beating heart And named us sons and daughters We are the ship people We work your ruined fields We call this kingdome home For you will never cage the rising sun We are the ship people We are the birthers of dreams

Art By: Alexandra Strack ‘18

The Creepy Guy That Loved Me “Response To Annabel Lee” By Cessna Spear ‘19

It was for certain many and many a year ago, Not in a kingdom, but yes, by the sea. I did live there, I am Annabel Lee. I did not love you, But you did think that you were to be loved by me. You were a child, I was not. Not in a kingdom, but yes, by the sea. But only you loved with a love that was more than love, not me. I am Annabel Lee. You thought that the winged seraphs of Heaven Coveted you and me. And that is the reason that so long ago you thought Not in a kingdom, but yes, by the sea A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling me, I am Annabel Lee So that my highborn kinsmen came And rescued me, Put me in a little cottage Not in a kingdom, but yes, by the sea. The angels, whom are very happy in Heaven, Didn’t go envying you and me-No!-- that was not the reason (as all people know, Not in a kingdom, but yes, by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing me, I am Annabel Lee. Because only your love was stronger by far than the love Of those older that we-Of many far wiser than we-And both the angels in the Heaven above, And the demons down under the sea Could help me get away from you, I am Annabel Lee. For the moon certainly beams, without bringing me dreams Of you, I am Annabel Lee; For the stars always rise, and I don’t feel the dark eyes Of you, I am Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by my own side Of myself--Annabel Lee-- you are not my life nor my groom. 9

Especially because I’m in my sepulchre by the sea-Especially because I’m in my tomb by the sea.

Be You

By Sydnie Sambueno ‘19

Become what you want to be, if you wish, be yourself, but do not mask yourself from me Do not hide behind the covers, the sheets that you had picked. the quilts that suddenly bring you comfort, the sudden rush of gold within you. My efforts are there and I come back with bags under my heart at the sight of you unseen from this beautiful world, but when you finally emerge from the dark it illuminates the sky above and it opens doors for you the doors of endless opportunities. My love, in the shadows unleash your charm and if suddenly you see wrinkles cornering my eyes the leaves drifting through the crowds smile, because your spirit will be for my heart like blood.

Art By: Mari Harwit ‘17

Along the coast in summer, you must raise your captivating cascade, and in the fall, love, I want your courage like the gift I was waiting for, the diamond, the gold of my echoing heart.

Strive for the sky, the moon, the stars, show the world the beauty of your soul, smile at this clumsy person who loves you, but when I open my heart and lock it, when my footprints fade, when my footprints return, take my shoes, house, light, summer, but never your sanguine for I would fall.

We Are Our Own Miracle ‘19 By Haele Sato ‘19

Honestly Hal, your father seems like an inquisitive man, But has he seen the news lately? Our world is a mess and God doesn’t approve. Why doesn’t God perform miracles? We have dug ourselves too deep for Him to pull us out. God does not need believers, Believers need God to believe in them. Moses did not need a sign, to believe in God, He needed a sign that there was a power to pull him out of his mess. But being where we are today, digging the hole too deep, The problems we face can only be solved by us. God can’t reach us, or participate in our uprising, So we will find our way towards the light, save ourselves. God kick started our world and we're responsible for curving the world towards failure. God won’t perform miracles. For this is a lesson. We are our own miracle.

Art Kills Me By Ferrari Hiraga ‘19

My body of work is very much like my corporal body. I sometimes employ traditional form (pencil grip, lack of eraser) but I become more so obsessed with reaching perfection by any means possible, whether that be melting into a pitiful puddle of self loathing and regret, ripping the piece in half, or starting from scratch. In those instances I neglect important tasks like eating and exposing my form to daylight. Because I grew up involved in the artist’s world, perhaps that is where I attained the ability to actually portray something, a semblance of a figure, on blank paper. But it could have been genes, natural born talent, and whatnot. I bury myself in the study of muscle structure, straining for accuracy, and ripping out my hair like a gardener pulls weeds under the burning summer sun. I struggle painfully so, but seek to draw the ideal with accuracy.

Storage Room

By Sirena Spurrier ‘20 The most depressing of all rooms is the one That is used to hold things that we don’t need, Yet we somehow cannot give away. Piles of memory-holding possessions are strewn across the floor like debris after a hurricane, And lonely dust collects under unused furniture, Mingling with the forgotten objects that had rolled underneath. The smell of stale, sickly, sour air lingers throughout, And the feeling of guilt is always there. What is the use of an extra room When it only holds what has been forgotten?

Ars Poetica II

By Angelina Augafa ‘18 I believe in God I believe I should go home right now; I believe my mom favors my brother And that the rest of us come second; I believe that everyone can cook. I believe socks can be worn with slippers I shall smile like the stars Bright within the night. My hair is a jungle, Full of twists and turns you never know what to expect.

More to Life

By Kaylee Dela Pena ‘19 A mother who wants to be a strong independent woman who has desires and warning! As if going through the same patterns every month with children and isolation Weren’t enough for her; all she has is a basket full of grief and rumors as well as planting crops that were never enough either Dear to the man she loves, she is that woman The man who writes thinks the girl knows too much the woman is like a dangerous witch! As if producing a baby weren’t enough; as if materialistic things were never enough With unliving things he makes living things A writer uses ingredients to cook up something meaningful like a poem You are that man she loves. People that never accept themselves disliking their own appearance We love each other, precious precious Our hands are helpful and caring Our eyes hold many secrets both good and bad But when we commit, The next generation leaves into reality There is too much emptiness and no one to fill in the holes.

Art By Kuali’i Copp ‘19

Real Love By Carly Yamada ‘19 When my fifty year old mother sees one of her children walk into our home Whom she loves, and hasn’t seen for an entire day, And has been patiently waiting for She excitedly says hello and gives a hundred kisses. I have seen this scene about a million times, But everytime I see my mother do this I get a glance of what real love looks like. In my head, I think to myself, “Will I ever feel this much love for someone?” And I ask myself, “What would a life without that kind of love be like? ” And, of course, I try to think I will experience that kind of love, And of course I would hope everyone in the world would get to experience this kind of love. To have so much love for someone, That you would do literally anything for them.

Ode to Equality By Tehara Anata ‘20

The first time I met you I was five Your radiant smile, wrinkles created over the course of countless lifetimes. Your sweet voice, full of honesty and remorse from quondam experiences. You told me of your travels, your constant crusade for equality. You were a cloud, swaddling me in your gentle embrace as if I were an infant. This was the day I fell for you. Now I look back and love you still, I too dream of the day people of all backgrounds will come together, the day that we shall live as one, the day people will see past arbitrary assumptions and prejudice, and just be. Neither of us have knowledge of the future, so for now, we continue on this adventure, hand in hand.

Dear God By Cessna Spear ‘19 Dear God, My name is _________ and I’m 15 years old, I wouldn’t say I’m a chronic worrier, but I occasionally have worry episodes. Overpopulation When I first started worrying, it was about miniscule things like what to wear, how to do my homework, but now I’m just asking you for some peace. Falling behind in school I want to not worry as much and be stress free like a bird. North Korea Can you please take all of this away. ISIS Because just thinking about it makes me overwhelmed. The snow melting on Kilimanjaro

Unexplained Feeling By Anonymous You know that feeling When you’re standing at the edge of a cliff? It’s not fear or anything, More like a sort of… freedom. The wind whipping the strands of your textured hair Into the very depths of your eyes. The seemingly never-ending blue sky Begging you to stay awhile. And you give in because, Well, why wouldn’t you?

Art By: Lanihuli Gilbert ‘18

I Am From...

By Emma Rolland ‘22 I am from the long, flat driveway, Where I spent many hours reading. I am from walking down the beach, Peering at colorful fish in the water. I am from the secret neighborhood Hideout between the building and The plants I am from the tunnel between the Neighbor’s house and the apartment Building I am from my cat poking her paws through Her cage the first time we got her I am from fun hole-digging competitions With my friend in the sand I am from stepping on a sea urchin On Christmas eve I am from winning a game of hide And seek by hiding under the stairs I am from searching through the milk Weed for brightly colored caterpillars I am from seeing one friend push Another friend off the trampoline by Accident I am from those times, captured in my Memory by chance

Perspective

By Lily Carlson ‘19 I find, after all these years, I am a believerI believe in what the thunder and lightning have to say; I believe that every time it rains the Earth is crying because something tragic has happened. I believe that every time a shooting star goes by someone’s wish is being granted, and that you, can make a wish of your own. In my life I shall live like a cloud, beautiful, white, and full of nothingness. The sky shows our future, and the universe is our ruler.

Sorry By Lily Carlson ‘19 I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the recognition that you deserved, and for not paying much attention to you. I’m sorry I didn’t really care, about you, and your problems because they had nothing to do with me. I’m sorry I was selfish, and that I took advantage of you. I’m sorry that I didn’t take your feelings into consideration, and that I did what I did without thinking about how you might have felt. I’m sorry for saying the stuff I said, and for hurting your feelings. And lastly I’m sorry that I took you for granted, but isn’t it funny, How you don’t realize how much a person even mattered to you until you do something to mess it up, and drive that person away.

Stress Free

By Leilani Schlesser ‘19 When I’m at the beach all day, everyday, after school, weekends, breaks, Getting ready for the beach, putting on my bikini, grabbing a towel, phone, taking pictures, listening to music, surfing, swimming, talking, laughing, relaxing, tanning When I am everyday all day all body and no mind I am physically, wholly and completely, in this world with the waves, sand, sun, shells, wind, heat… I don’t think about what my homework is, when it’s due, quizzes, tests, finals, projects, essays When I am all body and no mind . . . I’m happier.

Sky Diving

By Leilani Schlesser ‘19 I hang on the edge Of this universe Screaming so loud What’s the reason for why you’re scared? If the dream that you are dreaming is about someone who you love. You fall into a deep sleep Thinking you’re not alive With a feeling of being afraid To wake up and confront the person You dreamt about It’s not a bad thing You go through a phase Where you could get hurt Torn apart And get a broken heart You wake up from this Holding yourself Scared? As you dreamt about the person you loved

About Competition By Kuali‘i Copp ‘19

The bottom is the starting point. It’s not a bad place to be, Everyone has been there at some point The bottom may be dark, A bottomless pit The thing we need To push ourselves through The bottom reveals The possibility of the top The bottom is a good place But so is the top.

Cheerios

By Taylor Lawson ‘19 When I am shopping with my mother, all day, everyday, as I do now, In the sticky thick humid weather, plowing through four different grocery stores plus the sale at Gymboree. Making sure my brother has all of the things he needs for school the following week, and making sure we get all the ingredients my dad texting my mom don’t forget my cheerios and snacks for Sunday night football and his next cooking escapade. Constant phone buzzes of what my sister needs, or wants us to pick up. I run across Costco from the checkout line, because she forgot that one thing on the list-When I am everyday all day all body and no mind, when I am physically, wholly and completely, in this world.

Flowers at Our Feet By Anonymous

But mother the umbrella protects me, Daughter said. All around me little demons Linger in the chilly air of the grocery store. And if I don’t slay them with this umbrella They will overwhelm me & I will die. I won’t be able to run & play anymore, Or go to London or see the Eiffel tower. Instead I will sleep in the ground Alongside others with flowers at our feet And you will join me & die from cold rain That will pour on & you won’t use an umbrella For protection because it will remind you of me.

Celestial Bodies

By Arianna Bow ‘19 Their ancient bodies grains of glinting sand Ebb and flow on waves of night. The soft and distant figures glow, Pale, indifferent as they sweep Their burning faces scattered ‘cross the sky, And eyes unblinking staring still Searching searching for something more: By human folly dissatisfied-Our petty trifles on this mortal floor.

I Am From…

By Sonja Garcia ‘22 I’m from my run-down little treehouse, Smaller than me, From rustic, handbuilt playgrounds, Now broken, dead, and gone. I’m from sleeping under the stars, Cold but comfortable, From watching childrens movies, Not scared though I shield my eyes. Sneaking bits of frozen cookie dough from the freezer right downstairs, From finding doughnuts and fighting the butterscotch. I’m from smiley pictures with mom, Happy and frozen in time. From dad coming home, Missing him and hugging long. That fluttery feeling of stepping on the stage, From that one soft blanket that would bring me joy. I’m from crying out once I found my toy fell overboard, From blood, Legs bleeding from my little Dora scooter. I’m from exciting trips to Disney, Canceled when grandma passed, From delaying kindergarten everyday with a sickness, So bad I see stars. I’m from love, From miscarriages, From bittersweet memories. Though I have bad days, May cry sometimes, I know I love where I’m from.

Black Alien

By Taylor Lawson ‘19 Let America be America again When was America ever great When land was taken from natives When Africans were taken and treated like animals When was America ever great When whole races had to answer for outliers and stereotypes. When black parents have to warn their children about police brutality, and hate crimes during the elementary years. “Unarmed and dead at 17,” because of a hoodie and the stigma around black men and women. When was America ever great for Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland and Mike Brown. The “home of the free” but are we really free? The day you're born black in a system that is built to bring you down not lift you up. The day your are born black You live with prejudice and racism that the rest of your time. When we talk about race we’re told to shut up. As black people we’re always told how we should feel. Our opinion isn’t valid “That’s Not racism” they say “Racism is----” they say How do you define racism if you never dealt with it? The people who say things like this. Don’t have to think twice when they get pulled over. Don’t have to try ten times harder. They aren’t profiled on job interviews. When was America ever great For the Black “Alien?”

Pridely Death By Anonymous

So proud she was to die With a smile forever plastering her face In her perfect state of serenity Completely content Making all anxious and envious Waiting and longing for death to be Trustfully bestowed upon them Craving the satisfaction and pride she had….

Words Sonnet

By Kaya Heimowitz ‘20 One after another in an endless line, A train of thoughts, Each one thoroughly entwined, Twisting together in series of knots, Whispering of faraway places, The stories of things we no longer remember, Their beauty fills empty spaces, By dusting a page with magic as delicate as a feather, The icy mein of a word is exanimate, Whose interpretation is effervescent, In air or on surfaces words are lovely inhabitants, Flying on make believe wings to the heavens, In quantities as numerous as the stars in the night sky, In little junctions always classified.

La Pietra Literary Magazine 2016-2017 Thank you to Dr. Pan for allowing us to congregate in your room every week and for being a wonderful Lit Mag advisor. We all had a wonderful time reading poetry and laughing with you! Love, The Editors