Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Category: Poetry

Poetry is one of my passions. In my blog, I will publish poems which I wrote. Hence I opened a separate category for poetry.  

During the years, I’ve read Italian, English, American, and French poems because, during my childhood, I learned those three languages. Only recently, I started writing poetry which I never wanted to publish. I believe that it is very personal to publish them. 

Although I’m a physicist, I started to read poetry during high school, mainly in Italian and English. Only home I was reading French books. Indeed, the French language and literature were not in my school program.

Writing poetry is one of the most intimate ways to express feelings and moods. Time to time, I will publish poems. 

  • In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.

    Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.

    The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.

    Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.

    I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.

    Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.

    Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.

    I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I fell in love with my demons, and I wandered alone like a feral creature in the forest, feeling a burning passion every time I tasted the night, suspended in the eternity of darkness. I was haunted and viciously allured by creatures of the night.

    I sought my reflection in broken mirrors adorned with crystals and silver. However, I was never capable of seeing my countenance in them. My bed wasa sarcophagus, and my only devoted abettors were evil ghouls and ravens.

    Every night, I drowned in the ocean of tears made of pain and anguish. The only light I could gaze upon was the crimson moonlight staring at me ferociously. As much as I tried to avoid my phobias and nightmares, they constantly terrified me in the shapes of shadows and ghosts.

    I mourned through the endless night over all the despair and distress I could no longer avoid. Exhaustion consumed me entirely. The most agonising fears penetrated my heart with their thorns like prickly brambles.

    I was perpetually entangled in ruinous dismay, and I was ensnared in a web of anguish and obsession. A burning flame overwhelmed my heart, devouring it. I was transformed into a spectre made of fire and frost.

    I fell in love with my nightmares, and I embraced all the pain I was destined to endure. My yearnings were my ruin, and I surrendered to their devastation. I didn’t fight against doom and decay anymore; I embodied them.

    I took advantage of my secret haven carved in ice and fire. Darkness didn’t scare me any longer, for I was made of gloom and shadows. Absurdity became my norm as I was altered into a complete oddity. I stood as a total aberration before mortal eyes.

    No creature could save me from that deadly and tainted chasm, where I finally embraced my most authentic essence. I fell in love with everlasting oblivion and infinity. I rediscovered devotion and bliss in delirium and hallucinations.

    My utmost pleasure was losing my heart, which was speared by the demons I cherished the most. I clasped my madness with a rope made of thorns and hooks. I sprawled on ashes and dust, sinking into an eternal slumber.

    Eternity and disintegration were in me, as well as the steady necessity to sense dismay. Pain was an exquisite gift that my evils offered to me. I transmuted to darkness and oblivion. I had no name, and no mirror could reflect my countenance.

    Obsession and tragedy were engraved in my heart. A deluge of frenzies bloomed like stone flowers. The eternal night welcomed me and revealed to me all its arcane secrets.

    The sound of solitude rumbled like a menacing roar. The only light shining over me was the crimson moonlight, soaked in remembrances and forbidden oaths. I fell in love with my demons and dismay. Every teardrop of mine became decay.

    Tormented ruins and relics emerged in the graveyard of my deceased dreams. The stars halted to shed light on me. Darkness became eternity and infinity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • An Evanescent Bliss

    An Evanescent Bliss

    An evanescent bliss came to me in my nocturnal dreams. It was like a bright flame that burned my heart, and I cherished it as a precious jewel. Although I knew it was just an ephemeral fantasy, it was my only treasure to live for. Until the day when my mirrors fractured, and truth became a deception.

    So much dismay was inside my frail heart that I couldn’t realise I was still alive. Nevertheless, I wasn’t able to admit my loss. I was still willing to embrace illusions and to ignore forgery. And, at the end, I saw everything that was lying behind my imagination.

    In a decrepit and dusty attic, I found chests of ambrosial delights laced with poison. They were there, on purpose, just to attract attention, but their intent was lethal. They were glad to offer delightful winks of bliss and joy in exchange for souls.

    I lost my euphoria, and every thrill of ecstasy faded away. My mirrors revealed hidden secrets to my heart. I had to encounter my dreads, and the truth I didn’t wish to disclose. Candies tasted bitter and toxic. My heart was tainted with venom and revenge. Turmoil devoured my heart and turned me into a scarlet rose.

    My misery transformed into chaos and resentment. I embodied the dismay that enclosed me. I became a victim of my own naivety, and it was too late to remove those toxic emotions from my heart. What had teased me at first was now haunting me nastily.

    I had to touch the emptiness to feel the darkness inside me. Dreadful enchantments enticed me like familiar spells. I sank into the abyss of sadness, desiring to become eternal and infinite. Grief was engraved in my heart, and I completely forgot every kind of evanescent bliss.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical chimaeras blossomed in my garden of extravagant flowers and frantic trees. When the silent valley of dreams was crammed with forbidden hopes, the stars never hesitated to shine. In my delusional fantasy and secret inner world, I could be free from mortal dogmas, made of aberrant rules.

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and bizarre turmoil. Foolishness was my only state of mind, and every portal could unlock for me. I wept, and I sighed, as if it were my only way to express myself. The cold night wind hushed my aching heart, filling it with fear and torment.

    The snow painted the soil with white crystalline hues, while my slumber had kept my heart from aching more copiously. I had lost the capability to listen to melodies, but all that I could hear was a fanfare chanting demise and downfall. My whimsical chimaeras had transformed into shadows and darkness.

    I had become a stranger in my own realm, which I couldn’t recognise any longer at all. I felt like I was deprived of all my delusional dreams, which I considered my only comfort and sweet haven. No candied flowers or chocolate-coated leaves prospered in my garden, which was now nothing but a land of frost and thorns.

    The reality had transmuted into a sharp sword, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, altering it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks of indifference and hatred.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it suffered copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, inflicted by misery and dismay. Shallowness was prevailing, and what appeared noisier and phonier had replaced what was pure and magnificent.

    Darkness, together with the moon and the stars, was a cynical witness to every single occurrence. Silence had sealed my lips, and I was no longer able to utter a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was burying my dreams and my hope a long time ago, and fell victim to my delusional fantasies and absurd expectations. I was conscious of my decadence and that I would soon embrace my final demise. In that exquisite garden of bygone flowers, I lay in wait for my very last moment of mortal essence.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers appeared in all its majesty and magnificence, hiding arcane secrets and alluring spells of lost loves that were now just a scatter of dust and decay. My wild heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been allured magically by wicked ghouls.

    I had certitude that no creature loved me. Still, all that I could cherish was the damaged portrait of my dreams, which had been buried in the graveyard of my luscious flowers. Sweet funeral melodies floated like a gentle winter breeze, making me melt like a snowflake under the sun.

    I huddled among the gravestones looking, for a trace of one of my flowers but I searched in vain because I found only muddy earth and ice. I could see shadows peeking out from the dry branches of dead trees, whose roots were soaked in despair and bones.

    An exquisite storm overwhelmed me and agitated my shattered heart, along with all my desires and dreams. I dared to chase all the stars of the night sky; nevertheless, I couldn’t find them because they were not there for me. I had altered into an ethereal entity. I wasn’t real. I wasn’t mortal.

    I fantasised about glistening starlight and crimson incense, whenever a nightmare would find me, carrying me to the realm of darkness. I was no longer material. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and frenzy. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made treasure chest.

    I embraced the realm of darkness and eternal night, and like a fierce ghost, I chased elusive dreams and chimaeras. Because, I yearned for love and passion, like a flower in the desert craved water. I was an everlasting flame, and I was a frosty blizzard.

    I enjoyed being a magic sorceress, ready to cast spells, and finding delight in my withered garden, confiding in my ravens, ghosts, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting bittersweet venoms and the frozen flowers, which were blossoming in my garden. I swallowed nonsense and I sensed fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.

    I was hate and love. I was demise and power. I was darkness and light. I was fervour and purity. I was madness and wisdom. I was sin and virtue. I was blight and beauty. I was nasty and righteous. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.

    I burned like an inextinguishable flame because of my foolish and greedy desires. Having no longer a body, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for nightmares and dizziness was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my spirit had been brought away by the stormy wind and all my hooes had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of ghouls and witches. I embraced the doom, becoming my only dream.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Garden Of Oblivion

    The Garden Of Oblivion

    The garden of oblivion became my secret hideaway, where I could fall into total despair, crying out all my disillusionments. A garden of frozen flowers and broken mirrors unfolded before me. Fragments of shattered mirrors sundered my heart into crystal shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its splendour.

    I was a forsaken creature lost in my trail of lost passions and abandoned to my loneliness. I wandered like a dead soul without any aim to survive since I had lost all my treasures and nothing more was important to cherish. So, cast away from the other worlds, I sought haven in this surreal realm of my own invention.

    Love was a perfect stranger to me since my past existences, when utopian trees and flowers surrounded me all the time with their intoxicating scents and bright colours, leaving sweet caresses in my heart. In this period of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.

    I wandered astray through labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths, whose claws, merciless as daggers, clasped my dreams. My turmoil rose each night quickly, as soon as I stared into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and screamed at it with all my untamed acrimony.

    Wandering infinitely among shards of capricious desires and withered flowers, in the realm of shadows and dismay, was all that remained to me. I was a part of that world of doom and oblivion, although all that I desired was to be in an idyllic kingdom of delights and sparkling luminaries.

    The garden of oblivion claimed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of oblivion, while I cried tears made of grief and sorrow. My tragic fate had deprived me of everything, and no longing was evermore granted to me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Enchanted Nights

    My Enchanted Nights

    My enchanted nights passed one by one, like creatures perishing and being reborn, melting into a single, unique, and everlasting night. I fell in love, time and again, with monsters in the guise of magnificent and exquisite angels. I spent my endless nights casting spells and magic upon mortal spirits.

    I felt enraged and resentful as my heart was pounding in all its fury, like a winter storm at full might. My scorched heart had been repeatedly broken and torn into fragments of darkness. I cried and wailed in vain into the emptiness of the nocturnal sky, where I couldn’t see any stars.

    I was dressed in dismay and grief, while the shadows of my beloved darkness wrapped me in their ethereal veil. I beseeched all the ghosts of my imaginary realm to set me free from the anguish and pangs I was condemned to bear in my sorrowful heart.

    In my enchanted nights, I was intoxicated by magic potions and mystic spells, wondering if there was some manner to flee my infamous fate, unsure as I felt myself in that absolute silence that enveloped me inexorably.

    Hindered by enchanting melodies and beguiling rhymes that echoed in my mind, I became a part of the magical maelstrom that dragged me into the abyss of swoon and oblivion. I had metamorphosed into a creature that was beyond the rule of the mortal world.

    My enchanted nights imbued me with chaos and stardust, inducing me to fall apart and renounce all the dreams I once cherished in my heart. So much was I doused with poison and witchcraft that I had forsaken my anguish.

    I had always been tormented by dreadful premonitions, as I was doomed to perish in decay and obliteration. My bygone, enchanted nights, made of glimmering stars, were nothing but faraway reveries.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Shadow Of Decay

    The Shadow Of Decay

    The shadow of decay was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, pulling every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure out of my heart. It was a distorted mirror reflecting my anguish and fears, filling my chamber with scarlet red incense, oppressing and stifling me, and preventing me from seeing my own portrait.

    I lived this overwhelming and dreadful pseudo‑reality in constant anguish, no longer understanding whether it was truth, a surreal fantasy, or the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those grievous candles that enflamed my yearnings every time I approached them.

    The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to lament and weep my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the mysterious world of immortality to which, apparently, I now belonged.

    Amid dust and teardrops, I was relegated like an evanescent creature, living on the faint light of garnet candles, and thick, resinous incense smoke that enveloped me in its sacred, suffocating haze. Even the stars refused to shine into my little vault, where my pierced heart lay clutched by the crumbling walls like a macabre relic on display.

    I was no longer able to harbour a desire or hope for an existence made of enchanted flowers and love spells. I had lost in the abyss of obliteration everything I had desired, and all that I had vainly pursued in my tragic life had vanished, offering me just a bleak and mortifying dungeon for my soul.

    And thus I vanished into a menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and insensible rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of decay, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long forgotten, which, despite everything, had embraced me entirely and inescapably.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles of sadness manifested in the gloomy forest of my dreams. Lulled by a torpor of defeat and annihilation, I attempted to traverse a place unknown to me, with astonishment and wonder, yet, at the same time, with a heart steeped in sadness.

    Although the silver moon illuminated this unknown and dark forest, the further I proceeded, the more it seemed that I was losing myself in oblivion and in the abyss of my fears and uncertainties, for it was there that I was rooted; my heart was torn by a sense of suspension into the void.

    Indeed, I was overwhelmed by my nightmares, which slowly revealed themselves in the shapes of ghosts and wraiths, as I proceeded along my uncertain path without a clear destination. My gentle pains, which scourged my heart and disturbed my mind, rendered me powerless in the face of such apparitions.

    Even unwillingly, I had fallen victim to a vicious and infamous game of which I was not the author. And I could not even, powerless as I was, awaken from that fatal torpor, which was defeating me every night, as well as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to obliterate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of those circumstances of affliction and decay. My heart was lacerated and it shed all my hopes like a raging cascade.

    Weeping and pain were the only faithful companions that followed me everywhere. In this realm of sepulchral silence and the sighs of souls that could find no peace, I remained still, awaiting my metamorphosis.

    Ghostly and drowsy, I could no longer proceed and I fell beneath the weight of my own anguish, as if it were made of gigantic, menacing clouds bearing down upon me. And thus I vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of sparkles of sadness and scarlet petals, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My desires, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, conquering it with all their vehemence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground.

    Alas, misery had granted me a fate in which I was a sacrificial prey. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel destiny. However much I loved the fondness and delight of a chimerical existence made of dreams and delicate flowers.

    Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless vault, I sought refuge in my fantasy, while my withered soul was doused in sorrow. I strove to forget all my most hidden and forbidden desires, but their memories left an imprint on my heart.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there were saline water drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark refuge, nor was I allowed to see the stars.

    A lugubrious existence had become my fatal destiny. My only companions were my perpetual candles, which illuminated my gloomy chamber, merely to remind me of my anguish, my dismay, and my despondency.

    Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the ancient walls, dilapidated by the storms. The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their devotion, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat.

    While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and apathetic heart, menacing shadows embodied my fears and my most obscure secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul.

    Therefore, between surrender and fatal torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a marble statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the doom of my heart, my essence, my very self. A total obliteration and oblivion were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

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