The crack of the loudest thunder clap roars; my body vibrates with the echo, an untamed longing for more.

The joy washed away; a vile deluge now pouring, the razor’s slash of the cruelest tongue.

Pain inflicted with intent to harm; ripping at my sanity in an unjust tumult of words, the harshest weapons of all.

My mind torn to pieces; this voice carries devastation, wielded with nary a care for the moments yet to come.

A shattering silence; how loud the quiet has become, how lonely this false sense of solitude.

The patter of a different storm; a shedding that cleanses, gently this time in a subtle downpour.

If only you’d count the raindrops with me; do you see – they are beginning to fall…

~ Nina D’Arcangela

© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

25 thoughts on “Deluge

    1. That is all too true. People toss words around carelessly without concern for the damage they do – they are only words, right? Wrong.

      Thank you very much for the compliment!! It’s greatly appreciated! ;}


  1. Excellent Nina
    It’s raining today and your words give each drop a meaning. Dark, painful, scythe-like, and yet there is the quiet pitter patter of hope and the deluge passing.
    Evocative words to inspire the Damned!


  2. Well, to start with,our definition of Pen of the Damned is a place “where angst and horror flow freely.” No clearer that definition than found here in your post, “Deluge,” Nina.

    It never ceases to amaze me how you manage to bottle pain, grief and sorrow and yet highlight the beauty of it all, without painting it with daisies and ponies. I read this as if I was staring through a rainy window pane, and then boom! comes your last passage. Sometimes, while definitions may exist, the words simply don’t. I don’t have the words to express the chord your poetry & prose strikes within me. Achingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing, Nina!!!


    1. As always – WOW! Thank you!!

      I think the trick (for me) is to be as honest as possible in feeling, sharing, and expressing pain. Pain is a terrible thing, that is undeniably true, but it can also be a warm blanket to hide within. Sometimes, the deeper the well, the better the chance of surviving the fall… (Ancient New York proverb coined circa 5:12pm, January 18th, 2013! – okay, not so circa)

      Again, thank you for the extremely kind praise! I’m sure this is true for all of us, but sometimes approval from others who write, and understand what I write, is what encourages me to continue. FYI – If you find a daisy or a pony (that hasn’t been eviscerated, of course) in one of my posts, feel free to head up to NY and kick the crap out of me! Or send Hunter – STAT!! ;}


  3. Great post, quirky little horror chick! You have combined the fragile spirit of the mind with the stronger element of physical strength. And yet . . . and yet, has the mind really won? Can the razor’s slash be averted?



    1. Ahhh… Can it be averted? Never. Does the wound heal? No… It can only heal over. The damage can never be undone. Salve and time will lessen the gaping hole, if not the ache that accompanies it.

      Thank you Blaze! You are an insightful ‘lil bugger, aren’t ya? 😉


  4. You eloquently captured the potency of cruel language. I found myself lost in thought, drawn back to times when an ex-spouse eviscerated me emotionally.

    “The joy washed away; a vile deluge now pouring, the razor’s slash of the cruelest tongue.”

    You captured the essence of the experience – all good thoughts, feelings, and sense of self washed away in a vile deluge…

    Powerful stuff Nina.


    1. Zack! Thank you for the kind praise. The most unfortunate part of it is the truth that lies behind the words. I’m happy to know that my words were delivered so effectively, but at the same time, sorry to have brought up experiences that may be best left with a layer of dust upon them for you.

      A friend once asked me why I was crying when she read me one of her poems. My response was simple – I was crying because it was beautifully emotive, and devastatingly true. The duality of writing with strong emotion.

      Thank you again, Zack, for the much appreciated understanding of my writing! I often argue the merits of writing for those who will understand, not just those taught to read… 😉


      1. Please don’t be sorry, Nina. I grew from those experiences. Pain builds and strengthens – but it also marks pivotal moments in our lives.

        In the case of the memory dredged up by your writing, it marks the death of a nasty relationship that took too long to die. It is a tombstone that I gladly visit.


  5. Nina, often when I read your work I wish I could crawl inside that dark, little mind of yours to see just EXACTLY what is going on in there. But then, after re-reading your work, I think I am probably better off out here; my guess is you’d likely scare the hell out of me if I somehow found my way in. *scary smile* I will forever be enthralled with your deep, introspective prose and immensely curious to know just exactly from whence it all comes. Always great stuff, D’arc One.


    1. Thank you very much Red Eye of the Wulven clan! As always, your words are greedily appreciated. There are times I think the only thing in my cerebral bucket is a handful of raisinets suspended in goo (not to be confused with goobers). With the way the media world is gobbling up ‘horror’ (ahem) these days, we should Inc., and sell tickets to our collective brain pans… plus raisinets & slurpees (but no goobers! Well, you can sell goobers with yours if you’d like, but none with mine.) LOL

      Thank you very sincerely, Daemonwulf! You are an exceptional writer – I just re-read Eternal Incineration tonight – knowing that you enjoy reading my rambles is humbling. ;}


  6. Nina,
    My favorite memory is sleeping while lying in the grass during a thunderstorm as a child; brought from memory to mind, then torn away by “the cruelest tongue.”
    You brought to mind something of awe and wonder, and in that wide-eyed, vulnerable moment snatched it, brutalized it. I, both witness and victim, was then abandoned at poem’s end, deep loneliness in the silence, wishing even for the Deluge, so I would not feel so empty.
    Thrice read. Thrice moved.



    1. Hi Christopher! Thank you very much! I seldom write poetry, and even when I do, it tends to be more free-form poetic muse than this piece. I’ll admit I was very pleased with it’s outcome, but it was emotionally difficult to write knowing that someone I care for was experiencing what I was describing. While I love this piece, a part of me bleeds knowing its origin, and the simple truth behind it.

      Thank you again for the compliment! ;}


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