Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dark introspective poetry

  • Fluster And Frenzy

    Fluster And Frenzy

    Fluster and frenzy
    My guardian ghouls
    They came to rescue me
    During a dreadful slumber
    I felt frozen shadows all over me
    It was magical and startling
    Nevertheless, the fear came to me
    I was wandering, lonely and vulnerable
    They were chasing me in the dead of night
    I could hear their steps behind me
    But I couldn’t discern a shadow from a glimmering star
    As the clouds had overwhelmed the night sky
    While the moon had vanished quietly

    Wherever I attempted to proceed
    I couldn’t find a portal through which to flee from that abode
    My gown, adorned with crimson roses and snow, looked after me silently
    The creatures of the underworld traced my every movement
    It seemed to me that I was mesmerised by their spells
    While a chain of thorns entwined my body like a metallic vine
    I was an evanescent creature, dissolving into the abyss of decay and despair
    Under the indifferent gaze of the stars, cold and leaden

    Soft snowflakes were falling all over me
    Kissing my weary and fragile skin
    Trembling and sobbing, I had to face my fears and my merciless fate
    No refuge was granted to me
    No lovely embrace was going to welcome me
    I had lost all my hopes, and my longings were reduced to ashes
    I was condemned to wander endlessly in an abyss of gloom
    Where I completely vanished, and no memories of my existence were left
    Fluster and frenzy were no longer my guardian demons, but the ominous and frightening facets of myself

    How could I have deceived myself so recklessly?
    How could I have allowed myself to surrender to demise?
    It was so vicious to admit that I had sunk into oblivion ominously
    Moreover, my name had been erased from the mortal realm
    My longing for oblivion had unexpectedly taken shape
    I was ensnared by the oddities I had forged within myself
    They swallowed my heart each time I was overwhelmed by an intense passion
    I had become the creator of my own descent
    Each flame of desire had turned into a thorn of yearning, binding me with devout cruelty
    Nothing could have been halted anymore
    I was destined to obliteration.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • An Evanescent Bliss

    An Evanescent Bliss

    An evanescent bliss came to me in my nocturnal dreams. It was like a bright flame that burned my heart, and I cherished it as a precious jewel. Although I knew it was just an ephemeral fantasy, it was my only treasure to live for. Until the day when my mirrors fractured, and truth became a deception.

    So much dismay was inside my frail heart that I couldn’t realise I was still alive. Nevertheless, I wasn’t able to admit my loss. I was still willing to embrace illusions and to ignore forgery. And, at the end, I saw everything that was lying behind my imagination.

    In a decrepit and dusty attic, I found chests of ambrosial delights laced with poison. They were there, on purpose, just to attract attention, but their intent was lethal. They were glad to offer delightful winks of bliss and joy in exchange for souls.

    I lost my euphoria, and every thrill of ecstasy faded away. My mirrors revealed hidden secrets to my heart. I had to encounter my dreads, and the truth I didn’t wish to disclose. Candies tasted bitter and toxic. My heart was tainted with venom and revenge. Turmoil devoured my heart and turned me into a scarlet rose.

    My misery transformed into chaos and resentment. I embodied the dismay that enclosed me. I became a victim of my own naivety, and it was too late to remove those toxic emotions from my heart. What had teased me at first was now haunting me nastily.

    I had to touch the emptiness to feel the darkness inside me. Dreadful enchantments enticed me like familiar spells. I sank into the abyss of sadness, desiring to become eternal and infinite. Grief was engraved in my heart, and I completely forgot every kind of evanescent bliss.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical chimaeras blossomed in my garden of extravagant flowers and frantic trees. When the silent valley of dreams was crammed with forbidden hopes, the stars never hesitated to shine. In my delusional fantasy and secret inner world, I could be free from mortal dogmas, made of aberrant rules.

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and bizarre turmoil. Foolishness was my only state of mind, and every portal could unlock for me. I wept, and I sighed, as if it were my only way to express myself. The cold night wind hushed my aching heart, filling it with fear and torment.

    The snow painted the soil with white crystalline hues, while my slumber had kept my heart from aching more copiously. I had lost the capability to listen to melodies, but all that I could hear was a fanfare chanting demise and downfall. My whimsical chimaeras had transformed into shadows and darkness.

    I had become a stranger in my own realm, which I couldn’t recognise any longer at all. I felt like I was deprived of all my delusional dreams, which I considered my only comfort and sweet haven. No candied flowers or chocolate-coated leaves prospered in my garden, which was now nothing but a land of frost and thorns.

    The reality had transmuted into a sharp sword, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, altering it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks of indifference and hatred.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it suffered copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, inflicted by misery and dismay. Shallowness was prevailing, and what appeared noisier and phonier had replaced what was pure and magnificent.

    Darkness, together with the moon and the stars, was a cynical witness to every single occurrence. Silence had sealed my lips, and I was no longer able to utter a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was burying my dreams and my hope a long time ago, and fell victim to my delusional fantasies and absurd expectations. I was conscious of my decadence and that I would soon embrace my final demise. In that exquisite garden of bygone flowers, I lay in wait for my very last moment of mortal essence.
    Elisabetta Esther

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