Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: cliff

  • The Castle By The Ocean

    The Castle By The Ocean

    The castle by the ocean stood on a cliff ruled by shadows at night,
    An ancient, towering fortress, fierce and fantastic, haunted and forlorn.
    It rose from the rock, a sentinel of stone and memory,
    Bearing witness to countless storms, its walls were stroked by time and tide.

    Waves mild and intense disclosed secrets long heretofore,
    Stories of love and death, of struggles fought and lives surrendered.
    In the moon’s pale, ghostly glares, spectres roamed the halls at dusk,
    Their steps echoed through the aisles, a mournful melody.

    Turrets pierced through the mist, emerged scornful against the sky,
    Their silhouettes were a stark contrast to the swirling fog below.
    Windows, once alive with lamps, now gazed upon the sea,
    Stares of sorrow, dark and unbound, reflected the endless expanse.

    The castle’s gates, long rusted shut, held tales of ancient treasures,
    Of kings and queens, of fearless knights, their legends carved in gravel.
    The castle by the ocean with walls carved by time and storms kept secret stories from days sunk in oblivion,
    Each pebble bore the weight of a history’s silent song.

    Mirrors of the past stuck around inside every tormented chamber,
    In each stone, a hidden misery and a remembrance were entombed.
    The ballroom, now empty, once rang with giggle and mirth,
    Feasts and proms, melodies raised, celebrating life and inception.

    The castle by the ocean sobbed, a lament to the sky,
    Where restless spirits never perished, bound to this earthly realm.
    They wandered through the twilight, shades of what once was,
    Guardians of forgotten lore lost in time’s relentless haze.

    The library, with dusty tomes, held knowledge long since known,
    Books of wisdom, spells, and dreams, their pages now unattended.
    Cobwebs draped the chandeliers, their crystals dull and silver,
    Once sparkling at the candlelight, now dimmed by centuries’ decay.

    The courtyard, overgrown with wild shrubs, where flowers used to bloom,
    Now lay as silent witness to nature’s quiet doom.
    However, the castle by the ocean stood firm, defiant against time,
    A relic of a bygone era, preserved in sorrow’s tears.

    The castle by the ocean became a monument to the past,
    An ancient, towering fortress, severe and feral, tormented and desolate.
    Its heritage, etched in stone and sea, whispered on the wind,
    A tale of unyielding resolve, where ghouls endlessly persisted.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Cursed Lighthouse

    The Cursed Lighthouse

    The cursed lighthouse stood up upon a cliff that stabbed the sky,
    The lighthouse stood in the wind and rain,
    Its beacon lost, its light gone dry,
    A relic cursed with endless pain.

    The waves below crashed cold and fierce,
    Their voices shrieking through the storm,
    The keeper’s cry, no soul to pierce,
    Echoes in the sea’s forlorn form.

    Its lantern room, now dark and bare,
    Once held the light to guide the lost,
    But now it waited in black despair,
    A beacon to the tempest’s cost.

    The keeper’s ghost still roamed the stairs,
    His footsteps echoed in the gale,
    A sorrowed man who knew the tales,
    Of mariners lost in the night’s labyrinth.

    The wind howled through the broken glasses,
    Its fury was tempered by regret,
    A haunting wail, a memory’s pass,
    Of lives lost to the sea’s dark bet.

    The foghorn’s moan, a mournful call,
    Rang out across the bitter sea,
    Yet no one heard its sorrowed fall,
    For all were lost to eternity.

    The cursed lighthouse stood, a spectral guard,
    It lights a memory of old,
    A curse upon its stones was marred,
    A tale of sorrow, dark and cold.

    And so it waited upon the cliff,
    To tell its tale through the tempest’s roar,
    A monument to those adrift,
    And the keeper’s soul always.

    The rain poured down in ghostly sheets,
    Its rhythm was lost in the ocean’s cry,
    The lighthouse wept as darkness met,
    The roiling waves that never died.

    Each lightning flash revealed the past,
    Of shipwrecked souls and broken dreams,
    Their voices lingered, shadows cast,
    In the storm’s relentless screams.

    The beacon’s light, once fierce and bright,
    Now, it faded into the tempest’s dread,
    A spectral glow in endless night,
    Where hope and light have been since dead.

    The keeper’s vigil never ended,
    His curse bound him to the storm,
    In waves and winds, his spirit wended,
    A haunting shape, forever mourned.

    Through mist and night, the story’s told,
    Of sorrow deep and spirits old.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Echo Of A Broken Dream

    The Echo Of A Broken Dream

    The echo of a broken dream
    Is the sky’s vast light
    Which is rising in winter’s rain
    From the flight of little birds
    A song to drink and dance
    It can be heard faraway
    Thinking about time and failure
    So short life to regret
    Unending and unlimited endeavours for life’s delight
    When dreams come
    What might be lost could be found
    But long is the path of mistakes and struggles
    Never well-known enough to prevent distress and anguish
    In sleepless nights something and nothing has been revealed
    It always began the creation
    Destroying and creating
    By chance and love
    Like no more devotion would be granted like before
    Each thought of desire would be loyal and engraved
    Reading the infinite source of darkness
    And still enjoying every strive and pang
    In the hope of living inside an untamed soul
    Never like before
    It would become a gloomy and arduous heart

    The echo of a broken dream
    The sea of darkness is blasting
    Now that the night has come
    Harkening to the wind
    Whenever the wildness of the sea is fearless and indomitable
    The fallen souls have drifted into a slumber time
    Sighing along the cliff of the abyss
    Never seen to this day what it might not be quested
    A beautiful forsaken tale would be a lavish obscure dream
    A wonder and a marvel
    Sunken down into a remote universe
    Since the eternity
    It has always been there for me
    And always will be
    With no guesses or questions about life
    I fell down into the chasm of the time
    When it is believed to cast away the darkness and shadows
    With the loss of eternity
    Whilst everything was bound together inside a hidden and blissful oasis
    Every kind of dream was being offered like some joyful lie
    Sweet like poison and bitter like truth
    Like those revelations that will never be disclosed
    And desires would be offered as secret snares

    The echo of a broken dream
    Which lived forever in the abysm of the sea
    And was made of divine light
    New eternal dimensions are recreated
    The vision of a single and lonely night
    The world would start all over again and again
    Until all the clouds of darkness would end
    And the wonders of harmony and hymns would be created
    The world’s clout will last forever
    Truly and devotedly
    Days depart and perish
    Every longing will convey a new route of deception and authenticity
    Change delivers wisdom in the everlastingness
    When only one new lifetime is allowed to become true
    Love is death, love is untamed, love is betrayal, and love is life
    Being trapped in a new belief
    Acting to set free every uncoveted desire inside the soul
    And wishing to find a place in the universe
    If everything could materialise in an abode with faithful devotion
    There would be only bliss and an ever-lasting delight in life
    Certitude and suspicion could obliterate each other
    Probity and passion would be devoted eternally

    The echo of a broken dream
    Stalled so perfectly in my mind and once more disappeared
    As forgotten for ages
    Such a feeling of authentic dismay
    I disclosed the evening
    Lingering for darkness and nightmares
    A soft touch of sharp thorns
    Although pain and tears could flood my heart
    So many times
    I have been destined
    And magnificence would be a journey of delight and bliss
    Nothing else
    After my soul wandered lost in torment and misery
    With no more passion
    Dreaming that in a swoon
    My heart would always glow
    Not at all because of pleasure
    But striving to return to its primordial harmony.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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