Tag: lessons

  • REVIVAL

    Regrowth is not gentle.
    I died at midnight—

    A slow bleed,
    crying spells,
    fractures beneath the surface.

    Learning to grow
    in the soil of last year’s failures—
    they are lessons,
    not a death sentence.

    I shed the stories that kept me small,
    shut the doors that fed the dark.
    I make peace with sunlight,
    and the quiet pull of moonlit nights.

    I embrace the changes—

    soft,
    loud,
    necessary.

    I hold the tender moments.

    I love—despite the madness.

    Revival.

  • You can’t outrun what lives in your bones
    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry

  • Burning out, beautifully
    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry

  • ALL THE YEARS COLLIDED

  • STARGAZING

  • Artworks

    I want to know the truth of your soul,
    Your strength, your story,
    The fire that drives your heartbeat forward through the night.

    I’m not afraid of the monsters you carry—
    The rage born of old wounds, the scars,
    The hurt forged in your bones.

    I am no stranger to the dark underworld;
    My monsters, my oldest companions—
    Linger like background noise that refuses to die away.

    But we are not our monsters;
    We are what we create from the mess they leave behind.


    Show me the artworks of your life.

    Create some magic with me.

  • My tears remain the same, but I will never be that me again.

  • Thunder

    As thunder cracks and the heavens break
    We are pulled back into each other’s storm,
    Drawn by a tether neither of us can name.
    Our cords run deep.


    We search for the centre calm – the fragile quiet buried beneath all this noise.
    For the home of belonging in each other’s heart.

    Chaos surrounds us, chaos tests us,
    Thunder pressing its questions hard against our ribs.


    Yet in the wreckage, we reach for each other first.
    Searching, finding each other
    In the stars,
    In the dark of the night,
    In the rain and the cold,
    And in the last flicker of the flame.


    Always returning, always pulled back in.


    Hold my hand and let it rain,

    You are mine –

    through every storm,

    in every lifetime that finds us again.

  • 🚦 Green Light 🚦

    🚦 Green Light 🚦


    I aimed for red—
    sunset bleeding orange and fire,
    a perfect contrast.

    Then it changed.

    Green.

    I almost didn’t take the shot.

    But I did.

    And now I see more than I planned—
    not colour,
    but a path.
    A horizon waiting.

    We spend so long waiting for the perfect red,
    the perfect moment,
    the perfect sign—

    but life doesn’t wait.

    It turns green.

    And every green light
    leads to the horizon.

    So go.

  • Let Them Fall

    Let Them Fall

    Let them be who they pretend to be,
    and let them fall.

    Leave them to their misery,
    their hollow claims and borrowed skin.

    Negativity, truth, karma
    will swallow them whole.
    They are their own demon,
    their own slow demise.

    True colours fracture through the mask,
    the costume stained beyond repair.
    They hate the mirror of their own heart,
    so they hide inside a stranger’s face.

  • Untitled post 856

    Love survives us,
    even when nothing else does.
    In all this madness,
    your hands still find me.
    We stay—
    even when the world doesn’t.

  • Untitled post 898

    I am thunder, I am storm.
    Bones of mountain, skin of sea.
    A field full of roses and unfinished stories entertwining in the quiet in between.

  • Untitled post 857

    The earth held me when no one else did.
    I remembered myself in the space between the stars —
    in that breathless silence where the broken pieces finally settled.
    Somewhere between gravity and the void, I became whole again.

  • Untitled post 852

    Tra fiori selvatici e vino, I toast the ghosts that never learned to leave me.

    I tear the petals, I drain the bottle, I dare the night to swallow me whole.

    I bloom where I burn.

  • Harvest From The Loss

    Harvest From The Loss

    I thought it would destroy me but I harvested from the loss.

    Release, under a crimson red sky.

    I craved crisp air for my lungs. I willed my cold dead heart back to life.

    Not determined to live under the damage done, determined to rise up from it and rebuild again.

    JACQUELINE LENTE POETRY