Tag: abandoned

  • A Storm Of Sadness

    A Storm Of Sadness

    A storm of sadness and anguish is striking me with all its might
    And I cannot possibly escape it
    The sun is shining brightly
    But my heart is as dark as the night.

    Hence, I wait for the night to come to rejoice in its feast
    Fearless are my desires,
    And shameless are my fantasies
    I find delight in crying because I can let my fears manifest freely

    I’m odd and unusual
    I cannot fit into any description or catalogue
    I live of dreams and wonders
    I breathe decadence and melancholy
    After all, I am the embodiment of tragedy and blight

    The storm of sadness comes back every day of my life
    It is a familiar shadow at my doorstep, and I embrace it
    I drink the poison of my hallucinations like the sweet nectar of the abyss
    A luscious decay draped in perfumes of bygone eternities

    The wind wails my dismay through hollow halls
    In chambers long abandoned the ever-faithful night is my sacred dwelling
    Little daggers of despair pierce my heart, don’t let it rest even for an instant
    My sensibility is a cherry tree in full bloom under the storm of dreadful occurrences

    I dwell within my hallucinations, lost in a world of beautiful delusion
    Every dream carries me to faraway realms, where reality dares not follow
    I love to indulge in my wild fantasies and my delirium is a paroxysm of lust
    In my kingdom whose sky is made of red and purple clouds, everything is possible and limitless

    Nevertheless, the storm of sadness never left my dreams
    Always looking for me as a creature of its belongings
    Dressing me with an exquisite gown made of tears and sorrow
    Chaining me to a dungeon of dark madness and loneliness
    From which I am bound, unable to escape for all eternity.
    Elisabetta

  • Blank Silence

    Blank Silence

    Blank silence filled the solitary mansion as if the very air had been stilled by unseen hands. The echoes of sighs, once alive and vibrant voices, were now long dead, leaving only an oppressive quiet that seeped into the walls. The moon outside cast a frost and pale glow through the decayed windows, but even its light seemed muted, as though it dared not bother the stillness.

    Blank silence ruled the ancient residence, its weight pressing down on every surface. There had been a time when happiness and dreams resounded there when the sound of life loaded the halls. Now, only shadows remained, creeping and crawling over the furniture, whispering secrets that no one could ever hear. The rhythmic sway of a pendulum clock once measured time, but even that had ceased. Time itself had frozen, trapped in the grip of this hollow stillness.

    Blank silence settled deep into those who wandered through the mansion, searching for something that could no longer be remembered. The wind stroked the faded wallpaper; dead leaves ran over dusty books and cracked mirrors. But nothing looked back. There were no reflections here, no memories to cling to—only the vast emptiness stretching on and on. Invisible steps were soundless, and a ghostly breath barely could become a whisper in the choking air.

    Blank silence consumed everything, swallowing the house and all within it. The portraits on the walls stared out with blank, lifeless eyes, and the furniture seemed to sag under the weight of years. No one could tell how long they had been wandering, how many nights they had spent drifting through these halls. Time had lost all meaning here. The silence was eternal, an endless void that had stripped away all sense of reality. There was no sound, no voice, no cry. Only the hollow echo of nothingness stretched out before those who dared to wander, promising no escape.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Silent Room

    The Silent Room

    The Silent Room
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    In the silent room where time had lost its way,
    Faint sighs stirred the dusty air.
    Furniture draped in a forgotten grey,
    While shadows lingered, fading in despair.

    The clock’s hands rested in a frozen trance,
    Its pendulum still, mid-arc and paused.
    Sunlight filtered through a dim expanse,
    Casting shapes where silence caused.

    Curtains hung in tattered, faded folds,
    Once vibrant hues were now dulled and cold.
    A chair with threads of age-old gold—
    Vacant, though its tales were bold.

    Walls absorbed the stories of the past,
    Depicting moments long passed by.
    Unspoken secrets held fast
    In the hush where memories lie.

    The dust had settled on forgotten tomes,
    Books whose pages faded to air—
    Their tales were lost in abandoned homes,
    Their words dissolved in silent despair.

    The aura grew heavy with lingering weight,
    Of cries and songs that faded away.
    The silent room remained in the still estate,
    A portrait of ghosts held in sway.

    Cobwebs laced the corners with care,
    Delicate threads in dim light clung.
    Suspended in languid air,
    A monument to decay’s tongue.

    The phantom chimes of a dead clock
    Marked time in a place untouched by change.
    Shadows stretched in twisting mock,
    In this stillness, life seemed estranged.

    The room held its breath in a heavy pause,
    A space where past silence was sung.
    Echoes of old, forgotten applause
    Hung in the air where emptiness clung.

    Every corner harboured a secret past,
    Whispers of voices long since gone.
    The silence stretched, vast and vast,
    In this room where, time was withdrawn.

    The walls echoed with a distant sigh,
    Forgotten reveries of days gone by.
    In this void where nothing could reply,
    Only silence reigned beneath the sky.

  • Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and hopelessness feasted with silent dread,
    In the cold embrace of twilight’s breeze,
    There lay the ruins of forsaken dreams,
    A web of anguish woven with unseen seams.

    The ancient house, now shrouded in despair,
    With walls that groaned and whispered tales of wear,
    Stood solemn ‘neath a sky of leaden grey,
    Where hope had long since gone astray.

    Once vibrant halls now choked with dust,
    Held fragments of memories turned to rust,
    Windows fractured, eyes that never saw,
    Bore witness to a sorrowful history.

    Chandeliers, their crystals mournfully fraught,
    Cast ghosts of darkness that time had forgotten,
    While the hearth, bereft of warmth and grace,
    Held only shadows in its hollowed space.

    Every creak, a lament of bygone days,
    Every gust of wind, a mournful phrase,
    The very air, steeped in a spectral gloom,
    Carried whispers of a desolate doom.

    In the dim-lit corners of forgotten rooms,
    Rested fragments of unfulfilled blooms,
    A monument to dreams that could not stay,
    Consumed by the creeping grasp of decay.

    Despair and hopelessness filled the staircase,
    Winding in a mournful bend,
    Each step a cry of unspoken dread,
    Leading to realms where spirits feared treading.

    And as the night descended cold and still,
    The house enshrouded in its bitter chill,
    Became a memorial to the forsaken plight,
    A mausoleum for the fading light.

    In this place of despair and endless nights,
    Where hope had vanished from sight,
    The silence grew profound and stark,
    A gravestone to the desolate dark.

    In the ghostly silence, time itself decayed,
    And the weight of despair and hopelessness swayed,
    The walls whispered secrets of endless nights,
    Where shadows writhed in eternal fright.

    Beneath the starless sky’s oppressive dome,
    The house stood as a haunted tome,
    Each room a verse of mournful lore,
    A testament to what once was and not anymore.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Obscurity and the Night

    The Obscurity and the Night

    The obscurity and the night
    Swallowed the manor’s cursed plight,
    Its shadows were long and dark, a blight,
    A realm where all hope took flight.

    In the labyrinth of forgotten screams,
    Where darkness devours all fractured dreams,
    The manor loomed—a rotting shell,
    Its secrets were drenched in spectral hell.

    Whispers gnawed at shattered stones,
    As ghostly breaths chilled to the bone,
    Once-bright corridors were now twisted, torn,
    Where shadows were left forsaken, forlorn, and worn.

    The echoes of shattered sanity,
    Reverberated through infinity,
    Eyes from portraits, hollow and glazed,
    Gazed upon a world crazed.

    Books lay strewn in a frenzied mess,
    Their pages were torn in mute distress,
    Tales of madness, ink smeared and grim,
    Drenched in a nightmare’s dim.

    The obscurity and the night
    Had cloaked the manor in its fright,
    Where fragments of delight, lost in space,
    Stirred the dust in a frenzied race.

    Fingers traced through cobwebbed lore,
    Seeking meaning on the floor,
    The hearth, cold and decayed,
    Held memories of lives betrayed.

    Cracks in the walls, whispers lost,
    Echoing tales of a ghastly cost,
    A cacophony of shadows spun,
    Twisting ‘neath the spectral sun.

    Broken chandeliers wept their tears,
    As phantom laughter seared the ears,
    The grand staircase, once proud and tall,
    Crumpled in the night’s mad call.

    Ghostly figures waltzed in disarray,
    Their limbs a grotesque ballet,
    The air was thick with doom’s embrace,
    A void where hope couldn’t find its place.

    The obscurity and the night
    Held sway over every frenzied plight,
    Windows shattered, skies bled black,
    Stars devoured, no way back.

    The manor’s pulse, a frantic beat,
    A symphony of despair’s deceit,
    No dawn could pierce the raving black,
    No sun could force the night’s attack.

    The obscurity and the night
    Embraced the manor’s endless fright,
    A realm where sanity’s thread unravels tight,
    Lost forever in the obscurity of night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Phantom’s Lament

    The Phantom’s Lament

    The phantom’s lament was the host of an old and empty manor,
    Where silence filled the air,
    And a ghost drifted through each dusty room,
    With memories laid bare.

    The rooms were shrouded in a veil,
    Of dust and shadows pale,
    Where once were merriment, love, and tales,
    Now, only echoes wept.

    The spirit, a wraith of a sorrowed past,
    Drifted through the dim, dark hall,
    Its mournful cry, a haunting blast,
    A melancholy call.

    Each pace it made, each sigh it heaved,
    It was filled with endless grief,
    A tale of loss, where nothing was left,
    And no sweet relief was offered.

    The flicker of an old lamp’s light,
    Cast shadows on the walls,
    Revealed scenes of endless night,
    Where past and future fell apart into the abyss.

    It wailed a mournful, endless cry,
    For a life long gone,
    Bound to wander, never die,
    Since the break of darkened dawn.

    The manor reverberated its plight,
    A song of timeless woe,
    The phantom’s lament, a sorrowed journey,
    That none may have ever known.

    Through every empty chamber, it wept,
    A spectral tale endlessly retold,
    In silence deep, where darkness slept,
    The ghost’s lament unfolded.

    In every corner, shadows crept,
    Their movements were cold and sallow,
    The phantom’s sorrow, dark and deep,
    In this forsaken place.

    No living soul could hear its pain,
    Nor see its endless tears,
    Forever trapped in sorrowful chains,
    Through endless nights and years.

    Its only company, the night,
    And memories long faded,
    A soul forever out of sight,
    Loneliness invaded.

    Thus, it roamed through halls and doors,
    A sentinel of anguish,
    Haunted by the life it wore,
    In search of lost tomorrows.

    The phantom’s lament was never weary,
    A tale of endless nights,
    Forever lost, forever one,
    With shadows, out of sight.

    Its cries echoed through time and space,
    A mournful melody, a sorrowed trace,
    In this haunted place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Enigma

    An Enigma

    An enigma hid in the mansion of forgotten dreams,
    Where shadows whispered silent screams,
    Shrouding the enigma, cloaked in night,
    A tale obscured from mortal sight.

    Mirrors and ghosts haunted the halls,
    Reflecting secrets through eerie walls,
    Glimmers of the past in moonlit haze,
    Lost in time’s labyrinthine maze.

    Candles flickered, wan and pale,
    Telling secrets of the frail,
    Of love that perished, dreams that bled,
    In rooms where silence masked the dead.

    Mirrors cracked by sorrow’s hand,
    Reflected a world so dark, so grand,
    Where whispered words and solemn cries blended with the wind’s mournful sighs,
    Lost relics of a time long banned.

    Portraits stared with hollow eyes,
    Guardians of forgotten lies,
    Their painted smiles hid the tears,
    Of long-lost souls and vanished years.

    Cobwebs draped the chandelier,
    Rustling with each breath of fear,
    As footsteps echoed on the floor,
    A haunting rhythm, evermore.

    The garden, wild with thorns and greed,
    A relic of time’s cruel speed,
    Where once bloomed roses, red and fair,
    Now stands a graveyard of despair.

    The clock tower, rusted, struck no chime,
    A sentinel to decaying time,
    Its hands froze in endless plight,
    Marking the hour of infinite night.

    In the library, dust-covered tomes,
    Spoke of lives and silent glooms,
    Of poets lost in melancholy,
    Their words were a dance of solemn folly.

    By the hearth, now cold and dead,
    Lay ashes of words that once were said,
    Their warmth, a memory, now faded,
    In silence, their essence was jaded.

    The ballroom, grand, now stood forlorn,
    Echoing with a silent horn,
    Where once the waltz of life granted delight,
    Now shadows danced in the muted light.

    An ancient portrait framed in gold,
    Of shadows, beautiful and bold,
    Their eyes, an enigma, deep and wide,
    Held secrets of the dark inside.

    Whispers floated through the air,
    Of love betrayed, of deep despair,
    A haunting tale of sorrow’s kiss,
    An enigma wrapped in the mist.

    The attic held a secret chest,
    With treasures lost and stories left in bequest,
    A diary of a broken heart,
    Torn apart, a tragic art.

    Beneath the mansion’s grand façade,
    A magic vault where shadows guarded,
    A legacy of pain and woe,
    Where tears and whispers dwindled low.

    The enigma, wrapped in sorrow’s veil,
    A ghostly ship in endless sail,
    Its secrets whispered through the gloom,
    In the mansion, an eternal garden of thorns that never ceased to bloom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Whispers Of The Abandoned House

    Whispers Of The Abandoned House

    Whispers of the abandoned house in the shadows of the midnight hour,
    An old house stood, forlorn and sour,
    Its windows wept with tales untold,
    Of ghosts and spirits, grim and cold.

    The wind whispered through broken panes,
    A dirge of sorrow, haunting strains,
    Cobwebs hanged like veils of grief,
    In every corner, silent thief.

    A rocking chair, it creaked alone,
    Echoes of delight, long since flown,
    In the attic, memories faded,
    Among the dust, in time, decayed.

    The walls were stained with tears of years,
    Each room was a tomb of hidden fears,
    The floors creaked under unseen feet,
    Where past and present ghosts did meet.

    A portrait hung, eyes full of woe,
    A family lost to time’s cruel flow,
    Their whispers filled the empty halls,
    Mourning voices, distant calls.

    No light can have pierced this house of night,
    Where shadows reigned in endless fright,
    The garden’s overgrown with weeds,
    A silent witness to dark deeds.

    The moon cast pale and ghostly beams,
    Illuminating tragic dreams,
    A broken swing swayed to and fro,
    In the wind’s lament, soft and low.

    Who lived within this haunted place?
    What tragedies did time erase?
    Their echoes lingered in the air,
    A symphony of deep despair.

    Whispers of the abandoned house in the gloom,
    Silent as a tomb and dismal as a forgotten dream,
    For in its walls, sour sorrows lingered,
    Eternal night, no break of day.

    The spirits roamed with heavy hearts,
    Their stories were told in ghostly tales,
    No peace, no rest, just endless roam,
    Within this dark, forsaken home.

    No amusement, no bliss, only anguish,
    In this house where shadows reigned,
    The final sigh, a whispered plea,
    Bound to this haunted place for eternity.

    A final lament, a last farewell,
    In haunted thrills, the shadows dwelled,
    No solace found no dawn to break,
    Only endless nights and dreams awaken.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.