Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: crumbling walls

  • Whispers in the Gloom

    Whispers in the Gloom

    Whispers in the gloom, in the abyss of shadows, where no light gleams,
    A cursed wind stirs midnight dreams.
    Through halls and corridors of ancient stone,
    The whispers rise, a hollowed moan.

    Beneath the vault of blackened skies,
    Where graves of mystery in silence lie,
    The earth does tremble, cold and bare,
    As phantoms wail in lost despair.

    Within the castle’s crumbling walls,
    A chilling echo softly calls,
    From darkened rooms and passageways untold,
    Where time has decayed, all that’s bold.

    The portraits watch with eerie and ghostly eyes,
    The souls of those who dared defy.
    Their faces twist in frozen pain,
    Trapped forever, lost, astray.

    The moon, a pale and spectral sight,
    Shines down upon the cursed night.
    It bathes the land in a ghostly glow,
    And feeds the fear that lurks below.

    The trees, once green, are now twisted, rare,
    Reach out like claws into the air.
    They scrape and groan, their limbs entwined,
    As though they grasp for what they’ve pined.

    In every gust, a voice resounds,
    A tale of grief that knows no bounds.
    Of love once pure, now turned to dust,
    Of hearts betrayed and broken trust.

    A maiden fair with golden hair,
    Once, she wandered those halls with a soft embrace.
    Her beauty bright, her merriment a delight,
    But darkness stole her soul one night.

    She wanders now, a ghostly wraith,
    Her eyes alight with long-lost faith.
    Her hands reach out, but none remain
    To save her from eternal pain.

    The ancient bell begins to toll,
    A knell that shakes the very soul.
    Its ringing marks the hour of doom,
    The end for all who dare presume.

    And in the depths, the darkness grows,
    Its tendrils creeping, slow and close.
    It claims the lost, the broken, the weak,
    It finds the hearts that dare to seek.

    A wandering spirit, with steps unsure,
    Might fall into the darkness’ lure.
    For whispers in the gloom will swell,
    In lands where shadows ever dwell.
    The night is long, and none may tell.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Doomed Life

    A Doomed Life

    A doomed life, it once began,
    Beneath the sun and stars, life’s fleeting span.
    The days were bright, the nights serene,
    But shadows stirred, unseen, obscene.

    In the stillness of a forsaken night,
    These halls were walked where shadows bite.
    The walls, once lavish, now crumbled to dust,
    Held secrets of lives turned to rust.

    An ancient decayed portrait stares with dread,
    Watching over the chambers where dreams had fled.
    Fragments of euphoria, long decayed,
    Whispered of joy that darkness betrayed.

    Once there was light in this cursed abode,
    But fate, unkind, took its heavy load.
    The gardens bloomed with divine colours,
    Now twisted and tangled in death’s cold design.

    In those flowers, a tale was sown,
    Of hope abandoned, of seeds overthrown.
    Every petal fell like a broken dream,
    Drowning in life’s wicked schemes.

    A doomed life, it was said,
    From the lips of the living and the dead.
    The winds that howled through empty chambers,
    Carrying the weight of ancient tombs.

    The days of youthful grace are recalled,
    When love lit up each weathered face.
    But soon, the fates, with cruel disdain,
    Bound every heart in chains of pain.

    The storm rolled in with thunderous might,
    Crushing hope beneath the night.
    The fires of joy were smothered fast,
    Leaving only ash, memories cast.

    Nonetheless, these haunted walls were roamed by shadows,
    Listening to the silence as it calls.
    Every corner speaks of despair,
    A doomed life trapped within its snare.

    The halls, once bright with life’s fair bloom,
    Became the dwelling of endless gloom.
    Every gust, a fleeting sigh,
    In this place where all must die.

    And so the wandering goes on, lost and alone,
    A phantom in a house of stone.
    No escape from sorrow’s knife,
    Bound forever to a doomed life.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The melancholy of abandoned hopes,
    In the abyss of the night, where shadows softly crept, dwelled the realm of sorrow and wept,
    Underneath the moon’s pale and ghostly glow,
    While the whispering woes of the night winds blew.

    Sorrow’s realm dwelled in the shadows and hid in the abyss of the night,
    Where secrets slept among ancient ruins of failed dreams,
    Ivy grew so thick to lurk the sorrow of abandoned and sick illusions,
    Once-bright ambitions now faded and torn.

    Hope lay buried in silence, where it was once born,
    In the emptiness and void of senses, now haunting and cold,
    Reverberating through halls where bliss and peace once strolled,
    Whose walls, now crumbling, spoke of days gone by.

    When hearts were full and spirits high,
    In the broken windows, only reflections of despair,
    Glimpsed spirits and ghouls who lingered, forever ensnared in hollowed traps of disdain,
    Their eyes, like sunken wells, devoid of light, told of battles lost in endless nights of death.

    The aether became thick with whispers of unkept promises,
    Of futures once envisioned, now silently swept away,
    By wild storms with hurling winds of mournful cruelty,
    Ghostly sighs carrying remnants of gloomy cries.

    Beneath the withered trees, where no sunlight dared to tread,
    Lay the remnants of fantasies, now cold and dead,
    The branches twisted with an agony within,
    Reached out in silent torments to the void they were in.

    In this sombre place, where hope had lost its way,
    Each step echoed the grief of past times,
    The path was dark, lined with ashes of despair,
    Leading to a chasm of obliviousness laying bare.

    In the crevasse of infinite melancholy, where abandonment reigned,
    The heartbeats slowed, bound by invisible chains,
    For in the land where wishes were left behind,
    Only the sorrow of shadows could be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah