Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Dark Poetry

  • The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The collapse of my haunted illusions began the night of my fall into the dark chasm of my fears, where I’ve been tortured by sharp thorns and daggers, penetrating my heart in every way, and making it bleed to the very last drop of blood.

    My soul was burning alive, and I could hear the screams of my dreams, alive and breathing, to get the last essence of my foolishness. I had tormented scars cherishing my grief and sorrow. All in the while of my transformation and decay.

    I was reborn and died oftentimes, as long as my heart was struck by the many thunders of madness and self-destruction. Everything could have obliterated me in the valley of despair and grief.

    I was bound to the chains of the deserted version of myself and obscure presages. The fate surrendered at the sight of the tower of my solitude, where I was the only captive in the presence of wraiths made of tragic illusions.

    My tragedy was an everlasting and bright gift, like a hidden treasure. I knew not what could be expected beyond the several doors that kept me locked up. I could have screamed all night long and no phantom would have heard.

    My tears were pearls anchored to my neck like sharp hooks, tearing at my skin. While obsessive fears were swallowing my soul, and as much as I might run, they hunted me wherever I wandered during my endless bleak nights.

    Loneliness was retaining me as a creature of its own realm. And the steadiness of silence besieged my delusional abode. My pierced heart dangled from the ceiling and its drops of blood traced sacred symbols on the frigid soil.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams and chimaeras make me forget my worries and anguish.
    Surrounded by memories, broken mirrors, and interrupted cries.
    I lie languid like a flower stunned by the morning dew.

    Silence is a sweet melody that distracts me when I no longer understand where life is leading me.
    And in the night I hear the sound of loneliness like a sudden omen of abandonment and defeat.

    The darkness paints imaginary landscapes in my mind.
    The sound of the clouds reminds me to forget my name and hang my soul upon the shadows to rest.
    Leaden nightmares drag me down into the abyss of despair.

    Far away I can hear the screams of my fears calling out my name.
    So I take the chance to follow their trail in the obsidian forest.
    Where I try to find my image in mirrors that whisper to me.

    Murmurs of blood and betrayal appear to me as shapes of magic bliss.
    In my madness, I exist as a free bird of the night.
    Closed doors become gates to infinity.
    Forever bound to my lack of reality.

    I live in the surreal chasm to which I will always belong.
    Death and love blend like mysterious revelations.
    They own my flesh and my soul eternally.

    Imagination guides me toward the garden of illusions.
    I become the most delusional creature of the realm of shadows.
    Love caresses me as gently as a sharp dagger.

    My heart is in an everlasting bleeding.
    Foolishness possesses me, as I advance in my wisdom.
    What I thought would have destroyed me, gave me a sparkle of death.

    I was dead and I was alive at the same time.
    As an inanimate doll with a burning heart.
    The nothingness stared at me in its boundless ferocity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • La Notte

    La Notte

    La notte apre il mio cuore fatto di tragedie e ricordi. Il silenzio rimane solamente un’eco delle mie angosce.

    Soave è il pensiero di perdersi nei sogni quando essi diventano eterni sussurri. Il gioco sottile di rivelazioni e allusioni è un soave bacio d’amore e di passione che il tempo non perturba.

    Luce e ombra si fondono l’una nell’altra, in un amore assoluto. Le fiamme del cuore si nutrono della solitudine dell’anima sotto la luce delle stelle che non brillano più per illuminare ma per ricordare le memorie perdute.

    I giochi infiniti tra illusione e meraviglia si nascondono nell’oscurità della luce. Il mio cuore triste e adombrato è caduto nel caos di un torpore eterno.

    Sono un vulcano di fuoco e caos, circondata da ombre di angosce e inquietudini. I miei guardiani sono corvi magici e lepri silenti.

    Nella mia solitudine, la malinconia e la confusione sono i miei spettri fedeli che non mi abbandonano mai.

    Assopita e stordita, trovo rifugio nel mio torpore silente: gli specchi deformati sono i segni della mia rassegnazione.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sinking Underneath The Ocean Floor

    Sinking Underneath The Ocean Floor

    Sinking underneath the ocean floor
    With a painful grief like chains of sorrow
    Feeling disoriented and lost
    Like the death had reached for my heart with its numbing breath
    While I was letting the water and earth take advantage of my body

    I felt dark shadows and gods from the underworld touch my soul
    They imprinted their fire branding upon my hand of clay
    The path was established for eternity
    And I awakened as one of their kin, reborn in shadow.
    Elisabetta

  • Surrounded By Darkness

    Surrounded By Darkness

    Surrounded by darkness and evil spirits
    I wandered lost among dark shapes and whispered truths
    The thorns in my heart traced the path to my destiny
    While secrets and hidden tales were hiding beyond my control

    And I could hear the clock ticking in a rhythmic way
    Almost like a symphony of time and dreams
    Moving lyrical rhymes within my mind like leaves in the wind
    As if fate had determined that I was merely its puppet, to be used at its whim.

    I danced amid the heart of utter darkness
    Amongst phantoms and malevolent ghouls
    Surrounded by darkness and dark shapes
    They whispered secret truths I should be aware of
    They intimated to me to be careful and never trust

    I used my blood to carve all my verses on each stone I met
    While the pain tore me apart like soft cotton candy
    The scent of arcane spells and incense made me feel overwhelmed
    Bewitched by my own demons evoked through ancient tarots
    I lay down on a silent throne of illusions and deception

    So, I chose to remain in silence to seal an invisible oath.
    Elisabetta

  • The Infinite Abyss Of Despair

    The Infinite Abyss Of Despair

    The infinite abyss of despair and death
    In an endless tunnel of oblivion and loss
    I’m always there like a bound creature without free will
    I cannot escape from that dungeon deprived of freedom and choice
    Whispering to the rain, I wait for my end to arrive
    So much anxiety and fear crushed my heart into a thousand pieces
    And now I’m just a shadow of myself
    A creature invisible to the multitude who denies my existence
    A noose around my neck tightens almost as if it wants to strangle and annihilate me

    Hence I proceed without trembling towards my endless torment and agony
    In an infinite loop of life and death
    I continuously died to be reborn and I was ceaselessly reborn to die
    Now and forever
    Nowhere and everywhere
    Ensnared by voices that pull me downward — forevermore
    Seeking refuge among cloudy skies and storms
    Seeking salvation among the voiceless creatures of nature

    Wandering at the sound of raindrops and wind gusts
    Under the weight of guilt and unforgiveness
    Followed by the ghosts of those whom I once loved and cherished most
    I ended up in the infinite abyss of despair and misery
    While listening to the echo of my sighs and silent sobs

    Everything emptied my heart into nothingness
    Everything consumed me, reducing me to a voiceless pale phantom with a lifeless soul

    And suddenly obstinate sounds resounded around me
    They reminded me about the fragility of life and joy
    Indeed, everything was destined to decay and perish
    Even the silence in my heart

    The dark emptiness stared at me
    While I mourned endlessly my lost favourite affections
    In an endless funeral with bitter tears and sadness

    So I renounced every reflection of mine
    Living in self-loathing and contempt of my heart
    In the infinite abyss of despair and death
    Elisabetta

  • The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities was the place where bullying and arrogance reigned supreme, sovereign over vulgarity and stupidity. They wallpapered the walls of every place that held court in such a realm.

    Anything that could be imagined was both unreal and real at the same time. It could exist or not exist. Absurdity, however, was the master of the place. Thus, everything my logic deemed possible was tangible and predictable. In truth, it could neither take place nor be actualised in such sovereignty.

    I cannot say that I was dreaming, nor can I say that I was awake. In a state of shock and surrender of my ego, I could no longer even discern whether I was daydreaming or hallucinating. All I could say was what my sensations and perceptions made me feel in every part of my soul and heart, in every part of my body.

    Although I had firmly decided not to bend to the will of others, not to bow down or worship the conventions imposed on me persistently, I fell into a deadly trap—a kind of imprisonment, a state of captivity from which I could not free myself. Invisible chains that I felt and perceived in my body and heart held dominion over my life and my way of thinking.

    My jewellery box had been plundered. All my secrets had been revealed by indiscreet tongues. And my protection had vanished. It was as if I had become a defenceless flower in the midst of a threatening desert.

    I had to say goodbye to my version of myself, which was no longer alive. I had to say goodbye to all those visions that had deceived me falsely, when my naivety clouded my sight.

    In the kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities, I had to succumb and suffer. I had nowhere else to go. And the more I tried to escape, the more it seemed that this strange land expanded beneath my feet, preventing me from crossing its high and menacing walls. And what could the sky do but watch me, almost mocking me in an indifferent and cynical manner.
    Elisabetta

  • Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams of oblivion darkened my sleep.
    They were like palliatives for my searing pain,
    numbing my heart and soothing—
    If only for a moment—
    My spasms of fear.

    My disappointments had become like cobwebs woven inside my heart,
    darkening every joy, even the smallest.
    Ultimately, I had not chosen my fate,
    and I groped in the dark uncertainty,
    trying to understand where I was and who I was.

    The disdain and aloofness that oozed from the faces of mortals who had crossed my miserable existence
    had transformed me into a silent, sombre shadow
    whose image did not appear in any mirror.

    In my dreams of oblivion and madness, mediocre monsters that sought to tear me apart
    appeared menacingly in the realm I tried to protect and keep as mine.
    Their intrusion was truly an act of violence.
    Their intent to destroy me was the source of my fears.

    Ancient dusty clocks tolled the time, which always seemed the same.
    The dust of decay and sorrow fell upon me like a heavy rain,
    covering me completely and turning me into an invisible shell.

    Watchful and evanescent veils covered me, so as not to show me the harsh reality whose injustice and squalor could have tainted the integrity of my heart. And my attempt to awaken from that stupor mixed with despair was in vain.

    I was about to become oblivion.
    I was about to become my dreams.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.

    Perhaps I myself was an illusion,
    perhaps I had become a utopia or a chimaera.
    The devastating pain had transformed me
    and erased every trace of my mortality.
    Elisabetta

  • Mournful Shadows

    Mournful Shadows

    In the stillness of the night, the sky was stormy and overcrowded with lightning and thunder. Rain was pouring down, and the wind was impetuous.

    The exquisite scent of rainwater perfumed my small chamber from which I glimpsed the dark and stormy landscape.

    Chaos and order alternated in my bleak soul, full of grief. A piercing funereal pain had gripped my entire essence.

    Intrusive thoughts and faded hopes crowded my mind as if they were unwelcome intruders, not invited by me.

    Joy and darkness unfolded like buds in my soul, becoming thorny briars that wounded my heart and tore apart my being.

    The bright sun, dethroned in the sky by great threatening and dark clouds in a midsummer storm, was no longer on my visual horizon, making me reflect on my bleak and mortal fate, which condemned me to a sense of perpetual anguish.

    It was as if I had lost the ability to express all that I felt in my heart, the most hidden secrets and concealed truths that I had never been able to reveal to any mortal.

    My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

    My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

    Mournful shadows ruled over me.
    They were the ones who decided my path and my fate.
    They were invisible, yet present—and immensely powerful.
    I felt like a doll, a puppet, at the mercy of their whimsical desires and decisions.

    And so I perished,
    by the hand of my own fears,
    by the hand of my own funeral anguish,
    And I became a mournful shadow myself,
    No different from the others.
    Elisabetta

  • The Eleventh Gate

    The Eleventh Gate

    The Eleventh Gate stood in the underworld — silent, unmarked.
    I wandered, neither living nor dead,
    Caught between shadows that whispered secrets I could not grasp,
    Searching for meaning in that endless twilight of souls.

    17:17 appeared to me
    While I was confused by the thoughts that crowded my mind
    And darkened my heart,
    Searching and hoping for a way — for a way out —
    Which did not seem obvious,
    Given that I found myself in the labyrinth of death,
    In a world suspended, beneath that of the mortals.

    How I found myself in that world, I think I have remembered it:
    that chariot of skeletons and spectres, of demons from the underworld,
    had overwhelmed me and taken me away
    into their grotesque world of nightmares.

    Monsters adorned in sparse and ancient garments
    wore grotesque masks and stared at me with their dead,
    Yet burning eyes,
    as if they could read my heart,
    and they sneered at my fears and weaknesses,
    and at my ethereal, mortal being.

    I had become a captive of that world, a world of shadows and wraiths.
    Subjugated to their power, I could not resist,
    And my steps grew heavier and heavier,
    as if they echoed the weight of my heart,
    which had become a heap of metal shards and thorns.

    Exhausted and bloodless, I surrendered,
    and no longer felt that languid sense of torpor and melancholy.
    Horror and chills had gripped my entire body,
    And the beating of my heart stopped
    like a broken pendulum clock.

    I crossed the Eleventh Gate, seventeen times seventeen,
    And with each passing, a part of my heart fell
    upon the ground made of bones and carcasses and mud and buried souls.
    And thus it was that I collapsed,
    into a terrible slumber.
    Of death.
    Elisabetta

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