We weep
Where he sleeps
Bleeds between sheets
Begs “help me, help me”
Helpless
We help less
Flesh presses flesh
Greedy tenderness
Every edge ends
Seeds beget stems
Trees bend
Shredded hems rend
© Nichole Liza Q.

We weep
Where he sleeps
Bleeds between sheets
Begs “help me, help me”
Helpless
We help less
Flesh presses flesh
Greedy tenderness
Every edge ends
Seeds beget stems
Trees bend
Shredded hems rend
© Nichole Liza Q.
Inspired by “Half Moon Makes Full Halo” by Jakusho Kwong
The moon is nothing
but a moon
Cold and colorless
Her gravity barely holding the feet of men
to her dry and dusty shores
Barren
She wheels round and round the earth
On a path she didn’t choose
While gazing down upon that celestial spring
That spinning womb that
Gives birth to trees and snakes
and little league
The moon is nothing
but a moon
Reflecting only another’s fire
She doesn’t burn or even turn
Her head
Part of her always hidden
Always facing away
Her far side1 never seen
by earth-eyes
Half-shadowed
She still kindles trees and snakes
and valentines
The moon is nothing
but a moon
And yet
Her being
Just her being
Is weight enough to stir the waters
Call forth hidden springs
Just her pushing, pulling
Presence
Steadies the spinning womb
Midwifes trees and snakes
and birthday cakes
The moon is nothing
but a moon
And yet
Even on her far side
The sun still shines
Limning mountains, filling craters
Silvering sands that
None will ever see
In her hiding place
The moon is gleaming
Bearing beams of love2 for trees and snakes
and cups of tea
© Nichole Liza Q., September 2020
1The moon has a “far side’ not a ‘dark side’.
2 The Little Black Boy by William Blake
Header Photo by David Dibert on Unsplash
(a paraphrase of Psalms 23, 73, 91, 139 and Zephaniah 3)
Where can I go to get away from You?
Where can I run, that You are not already there?
If I go up to the heavens, You are there
And if I descend to the depths of despair
Even to the grave, there You are
You are with me when I am flying high, soaring through life
But if I land in an unfamiliar place where no one knows my name or speaks my language, still You are holding on to me
If I grieve and weep and wail with bitterness in my heart
If I stand before You like a brute beast, acting without understanding
If I throw a tantrum like a spoiled child
Or hide under the table trembling in fear
If I shut You out like an angry teenager
If my body fails me
Or my mind becomes weak and I cannot even remember You
Nevertheless, You are with me
Your right hand will hold me fast
You have shattered glass to rescue me
Shaken mountains
Torn down walls
To get to me
To set me free
As the song goes, “You don’t give Yourself in pieces”*
So I won’t give myself in pieces either
and “You don’t hide Yourself to tease us”*
So I won’t hide myself from You
Actually, not even darkness can hide me from You
You see through every darkness
Even the darkness of my heart
Even the darkness that hides in darkness
You see the real me
The spark of my soul rests in Your heart
Untouched by human hands, my being hides in You
I will rest in You like a baby bird beneath the shadow of her mama’s wings
Even in the presence of my enemies
You will feed and nourish my soul
You will sing to me with joy
We are one
You and me
Inseparable, free
Your love will never let me go
©️ Nichole Liza Q.
*Song lyrics from “Pieces” by Amanda Cook
You are the dream He dreamed
He dreams
the song He sings
when the whole world sleeps
You are the whisper in the wind
wonder hushed
on angels’ lips
a secret He keeps
You are the gift He gave
He gives
the life He lives
in the depths of the deep
You
are the dream
the act, the scene
You
are the masterpiece
penned without ink
You
are the ballad
sung by the trees
You
are the mystery
You
are the dream
©️Nichole Liza Q.
trapped behind these
one-way eyes
inside
the lies we wear like make-up
spread thick
slick
with a spackling knife
layer slapped
on layer
we play Potter
with counterfeit clay
covering lines and
carving new ones
making mud masks
that bury us alive
that harden
into barrel helms
heavy
on our heads
necks bent
beneath the weight
of myths we can’t remember
shoulders hunched
around our hearts
a blockade
gazes fixed
on fingers
we can’t even look each
other in the eye anymore
Would it matter if we did?
© Nichole Liza Q., July 2019
This poem was written in response to my poetry group’s July prompt “differences”. The first line popped into my head and inspired the rest of the poem.
I listen to the sea
As it beats against the earth
My mind a soft resounding
No words
No words
No words
No words to make you hear
Unless you’ve heard before
Wide-mouthed waves devouring
The shore
The shore
The shore
The shore as mute as I
While the roaring ocean pens
Her prayer of ceaseless pounding
Amen
Amen
Amen
© Nichole Liza Q.
‘Ocean at Night’ was written in response to a prompt in my poetry group, in which were to focus on onomatopoeia, which led me to thoughts like “How do you describe the sound of ocean waves crashing on the shore to people who’ve never heard it before? Is there any description that does it justice?” My answer was this poem.
How do you capture the sky
a sunset over the ocean?
Is there some enchanted glass
I can hold in my hand
whisper and watch
as the satin tapestry
of seascape
hanging before me,
gilded blue and molten
shimmering
rippling,
gathers at the hem
and slips
like a cool drink
past that vial’s lip,
the bottle’s neck
funneling
fabric into
folds of sunlight
wave upon wave
pooling
rising
until the last frayed corner
bends
the last thread
dips
below the rim,
filling the crystal flask
with fireball pink
coppers and golds
luster and light
of the night’s first star?
How do you capture the longing
vast
infinite
wonder
fear that tingles in the toes
something like worship?
Is there a vessel
glazed
in magic
for what these hands
can never hold?
© Nichole Liza Q.
The Lady of Shalott by William Holman Hunt inspired the following poem, written in response to my poetry group’s December prompt: “Write a poem about a picture or photo that speaks to you.” I fell in love with Hunt’s The Lady of Shalott when I first saw it at the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford, CT, where it is on permanent display. During a little pre-writing research I learned that this painting was inspired by Tennyson’s ballad of the same name.
It was the colors
And the hair
The wildness
That made me stare
The way the canvas
Still, but moves
Lady bound
In chaos loosed
How flaming shadows
Crown her head
While feet dance
In light instead
I’ll write a poem
Then, I thought,
Remembering
Her of Shalott
But as Hunt creates
A window
To a room
Inside a window
Where a mirror cursed
With magic
Reflects that
Window tragic
So my words devise
A poem
Of a picture
Of a poem
Enduring art, a
Clumsy rhyme,
Both by Tennyson
Inspired
Until today, I
Knew her not
The Lord’s Lady
of Shalott
Now, knowing what I
Know of both
I still like
The painting most
To gaze upon her
Fiery hair
Tangle in
Her web-like lair
To let his pallete
Color me
Bound and chained
Yet somehow free
©️ Nichole Liza Q.
Dark night of the soul
Cold
And alone
You whisper
To the blackness
You speak
To the abyss
You shout
You scream
And watch
No
Feel
Your words
Vanish
Into the void
You listen
To the silence
You stand
Still
feet in cold sand
Nothing in your hand
But the wind
The world pulls away
Like a wave receding
Into the never-ending night
Ever receding
Only receding
Further
And further
Away
from you
You exhale
All the breath
You’ve ever breathed
Molecules of memories
Particles of pain and joy
Drift
Into the ether
You watch
You stand
You breathe
You are
Emptied
of expectation
You are
Free
You are
©️Nichole Liza Q.