Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: chimaeras

  • Phantasmagoric Fantasies

    Phantasmagoric Fantasies

    Phantasmagoric fantasies were my kingdom of infinity and eternity
    A divine refuge where I could fly freely like a fairy
    Whenever the storms of fear and dismay came upon me

    I craved love and devotion like a thirsty blossom seeking the rain
    Nevertheless, what I could find were relics of forgotten treasures and vessels of mystery
    Silence was the only sound I could hear during my lonely and endless nights

    My beating heart was full of spells and illusions, trying to fill the void with silly desires
    Although I had whispered my secrets to the luminaries glimmering in the night firmament
    I could listen to the time ticking as it slipped like heavy raindrops

    The flickering candlelight kept me warm while my heart sank in the gelid ocean of sorrow
    For I was exiled to an evanescent world
    Where everything was ephemeral and illusory

    As much as I clung to false hopes, nowhere was destined to ever become my beloved secluded niche
    For I was fated to wander evermore without any guidance or aim

    Quaffing arcane potions, I fed my soul with darkness and fire
    Perceiving my slow descent into the chasm of oblivion
    I became a fierce sorceress willing to face any kind of hazard

    Lost lyrics echoed in my mind as if they were fragments of my memories
    The suspense of my fragility made me shiver like a delicate flower under the touch of a frosty wind
    I got lost in phantasmagoric fantasies woven in my dreams

    For I was a dream myself, mesmerised by the beauty of my own imagination
    Shunning the bitter truth that my broken mirrors insisted on revealing to me

    I had always been made of illusions, even though my broken heart persisted in loving chimaeras and ghosts, sinking into the infinite abyss of nothingness.
    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

  • Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams and chimaeras make me forget my worries and anguish.
    Surrounded by memories, broken mirrors, and interrupted cries.
    I lie languid like a flower stunned by the morning dew.

    Silence is a sweet melody that distracts me when I no longer understand where life is leading me.
    And in the night I hear the sound of loneliness like a sudden omen of abandonment and defeat.

    The darkness paints imaginary landscapes in my mind.
    The sound of the clouds reminds me to forget my name and hang my soul upon the shadows to rest.
    Leaden nightmares drag me down into the abyss of despair.

    Far away I can hear the screams of my fears calling out my name.
    So I take the chance to follow their trail in the obsidian forest.
    Where I try to find my image in mirrors that whisper to me.

    Murmurs of pain and betrayal appear to me as shapes of magic bliss.
    In my madness, I exist as a free bird of the night.
    Closed doors become gates to infinity.
    Forever bound to my lack of reality.

    I live in the surreal chasm to which I will always belong.
    Abysm and love blend like mysterious revelations.
    They own my heart and my soul eternally.

    Imagination guides me toward the garden of illusions.
    I become the most delusional creature of the realm of shadows.
    Love caresses me as gently as a sharp snowflake.

    My heart is in an everlasting pang.
    Foolishness possesses me, as I advance in my wisdom.
    What I thought would have destroyed me gave me a spark of demise.

    I was lost and I was alive at the same time.
    As an inanimate doll with a burning heart.
    The nothingness stared at me in its boundless ferocity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Haunting Dreams

    Haunting Dreams

    Haunting dreams devoured my mind during my tormented nights
    When the wind didn’t pass through my hair
    And the only sound I could hear was the whisper of the black roses entwined with my hair
    My gaze was staring at the moonless night sky
    Hoping for some star to appear before me
    But I was alone while wandering in the dark forest of my nightmares
    Where no creature or spirit emerged in the thick mist of darkness

    As soon as the moon arose from behind dark clouds
    Its pale glimmer stroked my face like petals of roses
    I felt the shadows surround me while dancing like phantoms
    They touched my gown with their icy claws
    The tragedy of my existence manifested into a dark fantasy
    Decadence became my castle of gloomy phantasmagoria
    Desolation became my alcove where I felt dearly cherished

    I fell in love with my hallucinations
    Trembling with lust and desire despite their gloomy embrace
    Every trace of wisdom had parted from me
    I had drunk from the goblet of insanity and amnesia
    I was finally a creature of the realm of haunting dreams
    Protected in my eternal slumber, I felt secure
    The infinity belonged to me and I was destined to never perish

    Whimsical was my mood and mutable like the wind in the springtime
    Fear didn’t belong to me anymore because I was a part of this macabre kingdom of chimaeras
    Not even my name dared to echo in that sacred silence
    I now dwelled as a requiem in the ravine of eternity
    I was cradled by gloominess and crowned by illusion
    I was no longer alive in my haunting dreams
    A bloom in oblivion and a ghost in the grave of forgotten stars
    Eclipsed by my own dark fantasies, I vanished into the hymn of endless dusk.
    Elisabetta

  • Evanescent Chimaeras

    Evanescent Chimaeras

    Evanescent chimaeras were fragile,
    Like sand castles destroyed by violent tides,
    In the darkness of the night,
    Beneath a starless night sky.

    Lores of lost longings were engraved,
    On every dead leaf intoxicated by the blizzard.
    Fragments of ancient sorrow lingered,
    Frozen in the gusts of a restless wind.

    Shadows stretched like fractured dreams,
    And the moon hid behind a veil of despair.
    Broken mirrors reflected hollow trees,
    Where ephemeral wraiths appeared and faded.

    Their mournful cries dissolved in silence,
    Carried away to oblivion’s edge.
    Serpentine branches clawed at the void,
    Yearning for passions that they had never known.

    While flowers shuddered in the frozen earth,
    Guarding secrets buried deep and cold.
    The realm was endowed with the burden of grief,
    Each sigh was a flake of a dying flame.

    Evanescent chimaeras became crystal gems,
    Sparkling in the night’s relentless embrace.
    A dance of glares and glooms unfolded to disquiet the nighttime,
    In a subliminal fantasy of folly and beauty.

    Time seemed to wither away,
    And every sigh was a dreadful lamentation.
    The sky, an ink-stained canvas torn asunder,
    Seemed to bleed darkness from unseen wounds.

    Stars were but distant memories, fading,
    Like whispers of lost souls slipping into voids.
    Wails echoed through the cold stillness,
    Like ghostly hymns sung for a dying world.

    Mournful notes wrapped around this realm,
    Magic disintegrations obliterated every little light that remained.
    Phantoms wandered aimlessly through the haze,
    Their translucent forms trembled in the cold.

    They traced forgotten paths along the dusk,
    In search of places that no longer existed.
    In the chasm of that haunted silence,
    Evanescent chimaeras turned to dust once more,
    Scattered by the wind, forever vanished.

    Their fleeting dance was a requiem for the lost,
    An elegy woven into the night’s black shroud.
    And as the reality slowly succumbed to oblivion,
    Only despair and sorrow remained.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Silent Darkness

    Silent Darkness

    Silent darkness lay among the garden of dreams and nightmares,
    Illusions and chimaeras blossomed into alluring flowers,
    Under the sight of a dark night sky studded with stars.

    Solemn promises of failed loves and altered desires were the guardians of this sacred alcove,
    A garden immersed in a silent darkness.

    Moonlight glimmered, illuminating the scene with a spectral glow,
    Casting shadows that moved with a ghostly grace.
    Fragments of forgotten vows were scattered through the still air,
    As the past intertwined itself with the present.

    Each petal was exhausted by the burden of memories,
    Infuse with the fragrance of longing and regret.
    The trees loomed eternal, their branches like skeletal arms,
    Reaching out to caress the fabric of the night.

    In this garden, time halted to flow,
    Instants frozen in a fragile web.
    Dreams entangled with nightmares,
    Creating an ethereal veil of beauty and despair.

    A mild breeze stirred the leaves of decay,
    A sigh of the universe manifesting in the dark night.
    A wind that carried the essence of lost yearnings,
    Revealing secrets to those who dared to imagine fantasy worlds.

    Beneath the ancient oak, a stone throne lay,
    Weathered by the passage of countless seasons.
    It kept the marks of periods of solace and delight,
    In the embrace of the garden’s silent refuge.

    The stars above bore a timeless glint,
    Glimpses of the tales created in this secret place.
    They shimmered like distant lanterns,
    Guiding daring wandered through the labyrinth of dreams.

    Silent darkness obscured the night,
    A solitary warder of the fragile beauty.
    It draped the garden in an eternal silence,
    Holding its enigmas in the chasms of the night.

    The secret garden was the dwelling of dreams and nightmares,
    Where delusions and mirages flourished,
    Silent darkness lingered as a timeless protection of an invisible realm.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Torments Of Existence

    Torments Of Existence

    Torments of existence and death,
    Until the last speck of hope had been granted,
    To dreamers and illusioned vainly expecting realms of dreams,
    Underneath a starless night sky occluded by ignominious clouds.

    Despair hid behind shadows of forsaken longings,
    As the cold wind of fate chilled the bones of lonely ghouls,
    In the heart of the infinite darkness, where light dared not tread,
    And only silent screams of forgotten souls would reverberate unheeded.

    The essence of broken promises and shattered aspirations dissipated into the abyss,
    Unseen and unheard with a load of sorrow heavy as lead,
    In the midst of a reality binding and drenching them in perpetual twilight.

    No trace of lost dreams could have been revealed in the dark labyrinth of hunted spirits, Whose only solace lay in the embrace of eternal nights,
    For in this realm, the fragments of dreams merged with the wails of misery,
    Lost into the void.

    Torments of existence within a mournful maze of endless gloom,
    Within the depths of such despair,
    A gleam of defiance struggled to ignite,
    Amid the shadows of a dead heart.

    Every sliver of light strove to pierce through the suffocating dark,
    Until it became a frail memory of sick diseases,
    A weak flame that could not have endured the majestic abyss of emptiness,
    Swallowing every time and space.

    Death and destruction annihilated every hope and dream,
    Leaving only an empty desolation of shattered illusions and lost chimaeras,
    A barren expanse where the echoes of forgotten hopes lingered faintly,
    Relegated to the recesses of nightmares afflicted by the relentless tide of despair.

    In this forsaken domain, murmurs of bygone fantasies and dreams soared unrestrained,
    Hereafter reduced to haunting and obscene obsessions,
    The relentless march of time brought no solace,
    Only a deeper descent into the chasm of hopelessness.

    Anguished cries resonated eternally in an endless symphony of sorrow,
    And amidst the ruins of a world forsaken by light,
    Lonely figures wandered aimlessly, lost in the maze of torment and desolation,
    Spectres of once hopeful dreamers.

    In this realm where the sun dared not shine,
    And the moon’s glow was but a distant memory,
    Hope had become a relic of the past,
    A forgotten treasure buried beneath the weight of endless distress,
    In the presence of such overwhelming darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Forsaken Dream

    A Forsaken Dream

    A forsaken dream of lost hopes,
    In the deep ocean of despair and grief,
    Limitless and was as the sky of darkness,
    Where silence reigned supreme,
    And no solace would embrace the night,
    Yearning for the dawn’s advent.

    In the stillness of the eternal obscurity,
    Hope flickered like a distant star,
    A beacon in the endless infinite,
    Guiding dreams toward twilight embrace,
    Through shadows and whispers,
    In a maze of ashes and sorrows.

    In the abyss of forsaken longings,
    Where memories faded like autumn leaves,
    Each tear fell from the tree of pain,
    Carving its mark upon the time,
    The sigil of a weary sigh,
    Seeking refuge from the storm of delusions.

    Amidst the ruins of shattered dreams,
    Lay the seed of despair,
    Buried deep within the heart’s core,
    Waiting for the doubt’s cruel touch,
    To bloom amidst the desolation,
    A twisted flower of haunting sorrows.

    The night became a canvas of untold horrors,
    Painted with hues of melancholy and dread,
    Within its darkest shades,
    Lay a promise of relentless torment,
    Where light was but a fleeting ghost,
    And shadows devoured the feeble glow.

    Through the valleys of despair,
    And the mountains of anguish,
    The ethereal dreams wandered, lost,
    Guided by the whispers of forgotten dreads,
    A chilling relic of what once was alive,
    That refused to fade away.

    In the realm of chimaeras,
    Woven with threads of misery and pain,
    Each moment was a dark stain,
    In the intertwining of life and death,
    Though the night might have seemed eternal,
    The dawn was but an illusion,
    Bringing with it the torment of false hope.

    Tears fell like acid rain,
    Corroding the seeds of hope,
    Embracing the night’s cold grasp,
    For it was in the darkness,
    That the stars burned with an eternal flame,
    Leading dreams further into the abyss.

    In the emptiness of silence,
    As time faded,
    A dirge of despair and hopelessness,
    Emerged from the depths of sadness,
    A vision of endless nights.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Veil Of Perception

    The Veil Of Perception

    The veil of perception was shrouded by dark shadows,
    Deep in the abyss of the nothingness,
    Where whispers and sighs hid in their spasmodic secrecy.

    The veil of deception softly descended,
    Beyond the realms of sensibility,
    Where a universe of illusions and chimaeras lay.

    Ephemeral gleams of evanescence enlightened the labyrinth of dreams,
    A mist of melancholy and fleeting desires,
    Immortal light and darkness.

    The eternal mysteries glowed like luminaries flickering in the boundless expanse,
    Each star preserved untold tales,
    While silence concealed arcana.

    Enigmas shimmered in grace,
    Embracing the infinite darkness,
    Amidst the chaos of the cosmos.

    Veiled in shadows, perceptions trembled,
    In the abyss of whispered secrets,
    Where illusions and mirages melted in a myriad of fragments.

    Deception presided over the garden of beauty and bliss,
    Beyond the grasp of lucidity,
    Where dreams and reality blurred.

    Ephemeral sparks fleeted away from longings,
    Illuminated were the paths of uncertainty,
    Where light and darkness converged.

    Mysteries sparkled in graceful darkness,
    Embracing the enigmatic oblivion,
    Amidst the chaos of the void.

    Haunted truths remained elusive,
    Through the maze of obsession and despair,
    Silent spectres of uncertainty.

    The veil of perception cast a mystic spell,
    Drawing nightmares into its ethereal embrace,
    Where forgotten dreams lingered in the misty haze.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Overrated Fears

    Overrated Fears

    Overrated Fears

    Overrated fears of future declines
    As the darkness gives way to the light
    In a play of highlights and shadows
    In the ambivalence of the unconsciousness
    Whilst the desires dominates the senses
    And my restlessness feeds my fantasies
    I cease to live a present instant
    Because I nullified the time
    Free and insensate, I can release my impulses
    Instinctively I navigate through the deformities of my thoughts
    I feel so close to my naive inspiration
    And I don’t care to please other’s impression
    The nights belong to my poetry
    The nights belong to my dreams
    When my uncontrolled feelings fiercely flow
    Like a wild rushing waterfall
    Sweeping away all my fears
    And chasing all my dreams
    As soon as they become absurd, chimaeras
    Whilst they materialise in the sublimity of chaos.
    Esther Racah

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