Tag: storms

  • THE WRATH OF THE BROKEN

    I carried the wrath of the broken.

    Or maybe—

    It carried me.

     

    Are we broken for the better,

    Or just addicted to the dark?

     

    A rose in the mud.

    Wrong side of midnight.

    Nothing grows here—

    It survives.

     

    Shadows of old friends

    Linger longer than they should.

     

    Laughter echoes—

    Warped now,

    Still sharp enough to cut.

     

    There is a stillness

    Between breaths.

     

    Not peace—

    Just pause.

     

    We reach for it anyway,

    Mistaking silence

    For healing.

     

    Trapped in the quiet unravelling,

    We miss the tremors

    Of collapse.

     

    No impact.

    No warning.

     

    Just the slow, sinking truth—

     

    We were never fighting anything else.

     

    We became

    The enemy

    We swore we’d never face.

     

  • FUEL

    Yesterday’s faults

    become tomorrow’s sorrows.

    In the dark corners of my mind

    I string stars like fairy lights.

    I take thunder in my chest

    and turn it to fuel—

    to light the fire within.

  • ON MY LAST BREATH

    On my last breath,
    I begged the night for a saviour—
    but the darkness stayed quiet.
    No one came.


    The cold laid the truth bare:
    in the chaos, in the ruins,
    no one is coming
    to pull you from your wreckage.


    Your salvation is yours.


    You save yourself—
    or don’t rise.

  • 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.

  • 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, and karma
    will swallow them whole.
    For 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.

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    For a moment we are whole, delusions of the young.
    We don’t realise the ocean of black that awaits our older souls.

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    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.

  • Affogato Afternoons

    Affogato Afternoons

    Affogato afternoons, where the day softens and the heart sharpens.
    I sip the sweetness melting into the bitter, hoping it teaches me something honest.
    I remember I’m allowed to slow down.

    Some afternoons are a truce.
    Others are a battlefield,

    Where I sit across from myself, letting the espresso burn through the fog I thought I was done fighting.
    But here – in this melting moment – I let it all blur.
    The past I’m trying to outgrow, the future I’m not ready for, the voices that rise like steam and disappear just as fast.


    Because in affogato afternoons, I learn the same truth over and over:
    Even the bitter can soften. Even the frozen can give. And sometimes, the only way forward is to let yourself melt just enough to begin again.

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    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.

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    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.

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    Creaking skeletal trees.
    Wolves with kerosene eyes.

    Ghosts crying in the walls
    While winter slowly creeps behind me.

    This internal battle is on the edge of dying dreams.

    Life plays the dark symphony
    The nights grow even longer, draped in the veils of wistful sorrow,
    And a small dying hope for better days.

    – Jacqueline Lente Poetry
    – http://www.jacquelineannlente.wordpress.com

  • Untitled post 766

    This bridge is the hardest to cross. The river of pain flowing underneath is overtaking, all consuming.

    Taken out to sea. Now it is just me and the crashing waves. I’m screaming storms and shouting thunder,
    All the while adrift in the rift of oblivion.

    But sometimes you have to hold your own hand and sail through the breakdowns.
    As the storms break and the sea calms,
    I see the stars bright reflection bouncing off the water,
    I hear the sweet lullabies of the world laced into the night sky.

    And I know I have to ride the waves and weather the storms to make the journey back to shore.

    – Jacqueline Ann Lente

    – http://www.jacquelineannlente.wordpress.com

    Featured image taken by Jacqueline Ann Lente

  • Stormy Seas

    Stormy Seas

    There will always be stormy seas, ups and downs.

    There will always be darkness within the light, forever intertwined.

    Just as a thunderstorm commands power but brings beauty, clarity and calm before and after; we humans experience the same in our emotional, mental and physical self.

    The storm and the struggle may be rough, but it carries us through the lessons we must learn.

    And the light is always there to guide us and show us beauty and wisdom in everything we do.

    – “Stormy Seas”
    – Jacqueline Ann Lente

    Feature Image taken by Jacqueline Ann Lente