Tag: crimson roses

  • 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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