Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: crimson roses

  • Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s desires enticed me in the long winter nights, when the frozen branches of hollow trees caressed me softly, as they needed to approach my body.

    The scent of burning candles devoured my enthusiasm and reminded me only of my hopeless misery. An everlasting burning desire strove to swallow my heart greedily like an invisible demon.

    My insensitive inertia shattered my soul into pieces and I let the devastation take advantage of me. I was born to dissolve and to perish an infinite number of times in endless ways.

    Frenzy and turmoil were my loyal guides like flaming torches in the deepest darkness, and they offered me their improper wisdom. I felt alive only because I embodied the distress that consumed me, leaving me in flames.

    Indeed, it was true that scorching passion sometimes might have let me fall in love with things that destroyed, and that was what penetrated every part of me.

    I was made of fire and glaze surrounded by the cold mist of my dark chamber where dimly lit candles were my only merriment.

    The sweet screams of the night recalled to me who I really was. Obsession carved my vein instilling a tainted poison instead of blood. I became a creature of the realm of shadows and wraiths.

    I was consumed by my own fantasies and foolish hallucinations. I had become the queen of frenzy among my lost memories of worlds which I once belonged to.

    No mortal entity could see me because I was visible only to creatures of my own. There was no transformation in my staticity.

    I could perceive the manifestation of my own tempest, like a tiny vessel in a stormy sea. Lost in the labyrinth of my dreams and dread, I was unable to discover the existence beyond time.

    The great mystery of seeking my reflection in the immense mirror of life made me realise my nothingness. There was no end and there was no beginning but merely a vague silence clinging to me like luscious ivy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Love Like A Sweet Poison

    Love Like A Sweet Poison

    Love like a sweet poison seeped into the heart, and time no longer existed in the realm of the eternal night. Passion burned as an everlasting flame and it altered into eternal desire.

    A tenacious devotion was rooted in a ground made of ice and stardust. And I stood among crimson roses and the nocturnal mist, under the sight of an eerie moon.

    The darkness enveloped me like a sumptuous dress wrapped around me. The faraway shadows of anguish and dread were chasing me like ominous ghouls.

    I was seeking ghosts that reminded me of lost loves while wandering accompanied by my madness as the only chaperone.

    No pang could ever touch me anymore since I’ve been depleted of my heart that was standing on a dry branch of a dead tree, beating loudly like an incessant cry.

    My only way to exist was to roam erratically without any guidance. I was already a creature of the world of darkness. I had altered a myriad times in numerous ways.

    I had definitely forsaken the world of mortals, with whom I never felt any affinity. I didn’t mind losing myself in that tremendous labyrinth.

    As far as I could proceed, I felt the nothingness swallowing me with delight. A storm had subjugated me and shattered my being.

    Not even a speck of myself had been kept by the frozen soil, because a whirlwind had stolen my essence. I was held captive by the abyss of darkness and there were no expectations or delusions.

    I finally remembered as a long-lost memory that time no longer existed, when love seeped into the heart like a sweet poison. It burned slowly, transforming into eternal desire.

    And there I lay down underneath the soil soaked with ice and flames with my heart standing on a dry branch of a dead tree, dreaming fearlessly and ceaselessly like a funerary elegy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Tainted Longings

    My Tainted Longings

    My tainted longings blossomed from the nocturnal obsessions that sought me in the mystery of darkness.

    I was a haunted creature living in a realm of oblivion and decay, feeding myself on otherworldly longing

    The havoc within my heart had turned me sharply to agony and darkness. My melancholic unsaid words had become my delicate descent.

    My wounded heart suffered silently in darkness like a relentless everlasting flame. A myriad of shadows enclosed me as if they were the souls of burnt flowers.

    In this decadent realm, I was the only spell-casting enchantress, so much so that I dared to fantasise that every dream of mine had become a haunting obsession.

    I was feeling utterly bewitched, willing to allure whoever crossed my path in the forest of despair and broken hearts.

    I had lost my innocence centuries ago, when the stars still showed only their pure, divine sparkle, for now my tainted and fragmenting soul was cast away by the very stars I had loved so tenderly.

    My tears melted the frosty soil into a swamp of gloom and dust, my only cherished refuge where I could paint crimson roses and pitch-black ravens.

    I had been crowned the queen of ghouls in my phantasmagoria, where multitudes of shadows sought to surround me in endless ways.

    What I had been offered was a treasure chest filled with arcane secrets and stardust. I belonged to the kingdom of oblivion and ghastliness.

    I could hear the idle wails of souls who had endured torments as severe as relentless thorns.

    I belonged to the void, and I had been forsaken by my fate. I was drowning in the infinite ocean of nothingness, and it seemed as if I had never been born.

    And that’s how I turned into a restless shadow, among the endless expanses of emptiness.
    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 Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The realm of crimson roses was my treasure
    The secret haven of my desires for extravagant dreams
    The sweet and bewitching scent of the crimson roses drugged me
    It was like I drank the poison of oblivion for the very first time
    And I forgot my essence, bleeding my heart out

    I had visions and hallucinations like I was in an eternal sleep
    I saw beauty and magnificence in every corner of the castle of dreams
    Crying and smiling, I’ve finally found infinite delight in my abyss of anguish
    No pang could frighten me anymore because I was free
    Like a bird flying so high, it could touch the sky

    I belonged to the realm of crimson roses, and my heart was bound to it
    Through invisible chains made of love and death
    No slumber was necessary anymore because I was in a perpetual state of stupor
    Enchanted by a wicked spell cast over me, I could no longer abandon my state of captivity
    I was languidly mesmerised

    I surrendered to a throne of nightmares and dread
    It was made of crimson roses and adorned with long and sharp thorns
    So pointed were their punches pierced my heart
    Making me bleed until I became an ethereal creature of the night
    The pain freed me from fears and insecurities
    And I had not anymore a material body
    After all, I never lived in reality because I was born in the realm of nightmares and madness

    I knew not whether I dreamt or waked
    So dazed was my mind, I could not divine between vision and verity
    The realm of crimson roses could have been a spectre of my imagination
    Enchanting me like a nocturnal lullaby
    It suited my senses and hypnotised my heart
    A fleeting Utopia, born to wither with the dawn.
    Elisabetta

  • Frantic Pangs of Dismay

    Frantic Pangs of Dismay

    Frantic pangs of dismay ensnared every passionate heart,
    Once it became trapped inside the abyss of solitude and delusions,
    Still and frozen was this garden of sorrow and grief,
    Where for each buried heart, a crimson rose arose in all its exquisite magnificence.

    No mortal could have dared inside this overwhelming realm of death and love,
    Whose soil was soaked in blood and betrayal,
    The blood of those unfortunate who fell prey to the magic spell of poisonous passions in the midst of secrets and arcane legends.

    Veiled in shadows lay the remnants of ephemeral oaths,
    Of lovers who dared, then despaired and dissolved in mist,
    Bound in the haunting chasms of this forsaken land,
    Where fervent vows were carved on stones now cracked and senseless.

    Each petal seemed to bleed, crimson-stained in sombre grace,
    An epitaph for souls who perished in love’s ruthless snare,
    While moonlight cast its pallid glow upon forgotten graves,
    And silence reigned, a ghostly song for all who’d met their doom.

    Beneath the roots, relics of devotion lingered motionless dead,
    In twisted knots and burning sighs, entwined in cursed despair.
    In this metaphysical world, phantoms of love and ardour abode, entangled in spectral chains,
    Each sigh came to be an eerie fragment, each stroke a haunting whisper.

    In the midst of the darkness, mist and hollow cries wandered, seeking the warmth of life yet condemned to eternal frost.
    Whilst roses gleamed in shades both decadent and dark,
    Fed by the remnants of hearts broken in bygone epochs.
    Each bloom was a monument to the souls who could not part,
    Bound by longings that left them to decay yet never fade.

    Frantic pangs of dismay flourished in that desolate garden under the weeping moon.
    A tragic fate was but just a warning and a memory of love’s cruel masquerade,
    While beauty buds, yet fester, lurked in the infinite and endless void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Flames and Stars

    Flames and Stars

    Flames and stars glazed perpetually in the realm of fire,
    Where only passions were found to blossom like crimson roses,
    With an ethereal colour and texture typical of eternal love.

    Beneath the canopy of twilight’s embrace, flames and stars swirled,
    Like feathers of fire dancing upon a sea of shadows,
    Their sighs murmured secrets that burned and blurred,
    In the rapture of night where eternity forever glows.

    The atmosphere was full of the scent of scorched desire,
    As tongues of flame entwined in a fevered caress,
    Consuming all that dared to venture higher,
    Into the inferno’s kiss, where both agony and bliss blended.

    And there, amidst the fire’s ravenous roar,
    The stars bled silver blood drops, caught in a fevered trance,
    Mirroring the desires who burned forevermore,
    In the madness of a love’s doomed dance.

    Their light wept gently, and yet it did not die,
    But melded with the flames to forge a world anew,
    Where the ashes of dreams soared to the sky,
    And hearts blazed bright, as if reborn and true.

    In that realm, no dawn could break the night’s spell,
    No winds could extinguish the ardour’s searing flames,
    For here, love’s conflagration would forever dwell,
    A kingdom where passion and pain were one and the same.

    And so, flames and stars wandered, lost within an exquisite blaze,
    Their shadows cast upon the molten ground,
    Their hearts ignited in love’s fevered haze,
    Where every beat echoed a relentless, haunting sound.

    The firestorm reached out like frantic arrows,
    Grasping at the starlit veil above,
    Yearning to escape the searing lands,
    But forever bound by the weight of love.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The struggle is part of my life
    As well as my desire to love and be loved
    My poetry is the reflection of my soul
    I am too shy to exist
    And I might be obsessed with passionate love
    My feelings are always intense
    Like a deep crimson rose garden
    Flowers could be one of my obsessions
    My ardent desire pierces my soul
    Shattering it into pieces
    I would love to be a bright star in the obscurity of the night
    I would love to be a sublime orchid lost in a lush tropical garden
    I never stop to wonder about life
    Dreaming is the breathing of my soul
    I have infinite love inside my heart
    Passions overwhelm my mind
    Sighs and tears would return every night
    Lying awake in my bed and closing my eyes
    All kind of fantasies would seize my mind.
    Esther Racah

  • My Secret Rose Garden

    My Secret Rose Garden

    My Secret Rose Garden

    I am timid and an introvert
    I don’t have any tattoos
    Nevertheless, memories are engravings on my mind
    I let the wind carry me like a small leaf
    Not caring about the circumstances that might happen
    Sometimes, my soul’s pain perturbs my secret rose garden
    I might be bizarre since I wear only dresses
    Daydreaming most of the time
    Whilst surrounded by bouquets of tuberoses, jasmines and crimson roses
    Uncertain is my future life
    Fragile like a tiny crystal flower
    Listening to a Chopin’s Prelude
    While the darkness embraces me and I lay languidly on my bed
    Thinking and dreaming
    Love is a delightful pain that bewilders my soul
    And the more I love, the more I desire to love.
    Esther Racah

  • I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I Am Made Of Crimson Roses

    I am made of crimson roses
    Crimson like the blood that ran down my thighs
    Each time I have been grabbed
    And each time, my body has been exploited
    My body had always been the trophy of a cheap and crazy hunt
    Treated like a wild animal to be brutally tamed and subjugated
    I had to lose my mind
    I had to lose myself
    To survive that ferocity
    My body has always been guilty
    I was the witch to burn for a sin I never committed
    Hence a part of myself died
    Each time it happened
    Like a violent thunderstorm
    Which inexorable dominates the sky with a destructive force
    Being a “female” like I have always been defined
    Following the zoological nomenclature
    I was supposed to obey and fulfil my duties of slave and prey
    Because I was just a docile doll
    My intellect and my soul were useless furnishings
    As my lips are stained with red wine drops
    I realise that I have been a victim and captive of my foolish naivete
    I have not been able to protect myself
    So much desire I had
    To be loved passionately
    Seeking an ethereal love I couldn’t find.
    Esther Racah

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