Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: cryptic

  • Subliminal Madness

    Subliminal Madness

    Subliminal madness dragged me deep into the dungeon of torment and despair
    A fortress where I couldn’t fly with my imagination
    An isolated island of sorrow and heartache
    Chained by the moans of my own thoughts

    Hence, I started to seek shadows instead of light
    I wandered lost in the wilderness and surrounded by absolute silence
    I became a captive to the memories and echoes of the past
    With the certitude that a wicked fate ruled my existence

    All the mirrors around me sought in vain to reveal the mystery within myself
    In the gloom of their cryptic tales
    For I could not comprehend their bizarre words
    Because they were just utterances lost in the infinite void

    In that abyss of subliminal madness
    The relentless wind of laments was blowing against me
    Gelid arrows that pierced through my body
    Fragments of anguish that were sharp daggers

    Profound wounds were carved on my heart
    Too deep for time to mend or forget
    Bleeding sorrows staining the hours
    Instants marked by silent screams

    Grief became a solemn veil that shrouded me
    Memories burned like inextinguishable flames
    And all that remained were ashes of dreams scattered in the wind
    Beneath the moonless dark sky of my endless night

    Nothing remained to me
    Not even a flake of hope
    Not even a fragment of a dream
    But only a subliminal madness to relieve my tragedy

    In silence and solitude
    My life was merely a paroxysm of darkness
    A frenzy of obscure nightmares chased me
    I could only sigh at the sound of raindrops getting me through

    In this desolate maze of endless sadness
    Not even a flicker of defiance was burning within me
    I couldn’t hear any whisper of solace
    I crawled through the mist of my own despair

    The shadows that once enticed me now suffocated me
    And the silence, once my treasured haven, transformed into a dungeon
    Whenever I strived to chase the faintest pleasure
    I was left aimless and shattered

    I still couldn’t find a realm beyond this dark veil
    A world where torments were no longer my torturers
    Hence, I was bound to this endless darkness
    And my heart was filled with subliminal madness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The broken mirror reflected a fractured world,
    Facades twisted in the distant light,
    The truth was lost as reflections swirled,
    Clarity faded into the night.

    Each crack told tales of dreams once whole,
    Fragments were part of a distorted show,
    Sighs echoed from the secret dwellings of fractured souls,
    In the broken mirror’s shadowed glow.

    Silvered edges framed distorted scenes,
    A face with sights that could not be seen,
    Reflections trapped in shattered visions,
    Lost within chaotic reverie.

    The silvery glass spoke in muted, splintered tones,
    Revealing truths twisted and blurred,
    A thousand shards held silent moans,
    Where broken images remained unheard.

    Each piece held a sliver of the past,
    A memory splintered and unclear,
    In the mirror’s grasp, shadows cast,
    Untangling what was once held dear.

    Fractured light created a maze,
    A labyrinth of tales left untold,
    In this mirror’s cryptic haze,
    The past’s reflection turned cold.

    A portrait shattered by unseen hands,
    Happiness’s tales lost in grief’s embrace,
    Mirrored fragments dispersed across lands,
    Of broken hopes and shattered dreams.

    The broken mirror remained a cryptic guide,
    A map of what was lost and found,
    In its shards, the truth tried to hide,
    Within a maze where secrets were concealed.

    Every shard held a story half-told,
    A glimpse into lives that had been,
    In the mirror’s shattered, fractured folds,
    Dwelled memories of what was once seen.

    The surface, once clear, now lay in pieces,
    A burst image of days gone by,
    The obliterated mirror retained its silent secrets,
    In fragments where shadows still lie.

    As the pieces lay scattered and cold,
    The reflections faded out of view,
    In the broken mirror’s cryptic hold,
    The past’s echoes bid farewell.

  • An Enigma

    An Enigma

    An enigma hid in the mansion of forgotten dreams,
    Where shadows whispered silent screams,
    Shrouding the enigma, cloaked in night,
    A tale obscured from mortal sight.

    Mirrors and ghosts haunted the halls,
    Reflecting secrets through eerie walls,
    Glimmers of the past in moonlit haze,
    Lost in time’s labyrinthine maze.

    Candles flickered, wan and pale,
    Telling secrets of the frail,
    Of love that perished, dreams that bled,
    In rooms where silence masked the dead.

    Mirrors cracked by sorrow’s hand,
    Reflected a world so dark, so grand,
    Where whispered words and solemn cries blended with the wind’s mournful sighs,
    Lost relics of a time long banned.

    Portraits stared with hollow eyes,
    Guardians of forgotten lies,
    Their painted smiles hid the tears,
    Of long-lost souls and vanished years.

    Cobwebs draped the chandelier,
    Rustling with each breath of fear,
    As footsteps echoed on the floor,
    A haunting rhythm, evermore.

    The garden, wild with thorns and greed,
    A relic of time’s cruel speed,
    Where once bloomed roses, red and fair,
    Now stands a graveyard of despair.

    The clock tower, rusted, struck no chime,
    A sentinel to decaying time,
    Its hands froze in endless plight,
    Marking the hour of infinite night.

    In the library, dust-covered tomes,
    Spoke of lives and silent glooms,
    Of poets lost in melancholy,
    Their words were a dance of solemn folly.

    By the hearth, now cold and dead,
    Lay ashes of words that once were said,
    Their warmth, a memory, now faded,
    In silence, their essence was jaded.

    The ballroom, grand, now stood forlorn,
    Echoing with a silent horn,
    Where once the waltz of life granted delight,
    Now shadows danced in the muted light.

    An ancient portrait framed in gold,
    Of shadows, beautiful and bold,
    Their eyes, an enigma, deep and wide,
    Held secrets of the dark inside.

    Whispers floated through the air,
    Of love betrayed, of deep despair,
    A haunting tale of sorrow’s kiss,
    An enigma wrapped in the mist.

    The attic held a secret chest,
    With treasures lost and stories left in bequest,
    A diary of a broken heart,
    Torn apart, a tragic art.

    Beneath the mansion’s grand façade,
    A magic vault where shadows guarded,
    A legacy of pain and woe,
    Where tears and whispers dwindled low.

    The enigma, wrapped in sorrow’s veil,
    A ghostly ship in endless sail,
    Its secrets whispered through the gloom,
    In the mansion, an eternal garden of thorns that never ceased to bloom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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