Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: decadent poetry

  • The Chains Of The Past

    The Chains Of The Past

    The chains of the past captivated me
    Placing me down on the cold soil of the garden of tears
    A place where no hope or wish was granted
    A dungeon of anguish and dismay that became my eternal realm

    An initiation ritual pierced my heart and made it bleed
    My blood nourished the flowers of betrayal and deception
    until they drained me of all strength
    Leaving me fainting on the cold soil among thorns and sharp stones

    Suddenly I felt that all my fears left my heart
    And I became the representation of numbness and apathy
    My body was as bloodless as an inanimate pebble
    Silent like a grave and dark as the night

    My soul parted whispering a farewell
    My heart was pale as ashes
    Every spark of curiosity and liveliness faded away
    Leaving me entombed in a deep slumber from which I would never awaken

    The chains of the past were a noose around my neck
    Drops of poison were falling on my face from the fountain of oblivion
    Longings and regrets entwined a chain of tears and blood around my heart
    A stupor was in my mind and weakness overwhelmed me

    My memories from the past became my hunting nightmares
    I couldn’t escape from them and hence I was lying helpless in the cold soil of the garden of death
    All I could hear were soft sighs and cries of despair
    Underneath the immense darkness of the night sky

    A curtain of haze blurred my blank gaze
    As the wind wove moans into shadows
    No dawn would ever find my eternal dusk
    No voice would unsettle my spectral silence

    Unable to find my way out of misery and sorrow
    I descended into the deepest abyss of darkness
    Becoming an unknown wraith in this garden of death
    Where even time had turned to dust
    And then only echoes of forsaken laments remained.
    Elisabetta

  • Flowers of Lust

    Flowers of Lust

    Flowers of lust bloomed with passion and love,
    In a lush garden teeming with beauty and sublimity.
    Not even the rain dared touch this magical, magnificent realm,
    Where all dreams always come true.

    Anguish began to poison that ethereal world,
    Each raindrop became a drop of venom and grief,
    Killing all the flowers of lust and leaving the garden a deserted place,
    Where shadows and darkness started to rule.

    Hope faded like the sun’s dying glow,
    As gloominess swallowed the once-enchanted realm.
    The wind carried tales of forgotten euphoria,
    Now replaced by the wails of misery’s presence.

    A veil of sorrow draped over every path,
    Once adorned with roses, now thorns remained.
    The sky, once azure, turned to ominous dark grey,
    And silence grew louder than the softest pain.

    The lovers who feasted in the garden’s embrace,
    Became mere phantoms, vestiges of the remote past.
    Their merriment twisted into haunting laments,
    As the night’s cold grasp on their souls was cast.

    This forsaken place transformed into a castle of rumbles,
    Each remembrance was a reminder of love’s decay.
    No gentle breeze, no floral perfume in the air,
    Only the scent of death would not sway.

    The garden became a grave for passion’s bloom,
    Lay barren, broken, a cradle for despair.
    No longer a haven for hearts to unite,
    But a tomb where love withered, unaware.

    Wilted petals and shattered dreams are all that remain,
    Fragments of a life now lost in vain.
    Each star above seemed to mock the plight,
    Of a paradise torn apart at the seams.

    Amidst the ruins and obliteration,
    The eternal darkness still cast its poisonous spell,
    And gloaming clouds devoured every hopeful bloom.
    No life could flourish in this place of despair,
    A garden trapped in its endless, tragic plight.

    The flowers of lust forever lost their allure,
    As night swallowed day and banished the light.
    In this realm of sorrow, nothing survived,
    Not love, nor joy, nor the faintest gleam,
    But only the fragments of shattered dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and spells coveted in the abyss of shadows where phantoms crept,
    Wandering through a realm half-wept.
    The moon hung low; its face was pale,
    And whispered of a ghostly tale.

    The sky became gloomy, the stars were dim,
    As winds sang out a mournful hymn.
    Every path was lost in endless nights,
    Beneath a sky that held no light.

    Through twisted woods, the wanderers found a gate,
    Its iron bars were wrought with fate.
    A voice called out, both near and far,
    Like echoes from a fallen star.

    “Step forth,” it said, “into the dream,
    Where silence reigns and shadows gleam.”
    Those who crossed the threshold felt the spell,
    A touch of darkness known too well.

    The world within was strange and wild,
    Where reason’s grip was swiftly beguiled.
    The ground was ash, the trees were bone,
    Their branches cracked in a sorrowful tone.

    A figure stood with eyes like fire,
    A sorceress of dark desire.
    She raised her hand, the spell was cast,
    And time itself could not hold fast.

    The dreamers drifted then, their senses blurred,
    In realms where whispered words were heard.
    Each secret spoke of death’s embrace,
    Of haunted dreams and hollow grace.

    The stars fell down like frozen tears,
    Unveiling long-forgotten fears.
    Intense was the feeling of the pull of ancient woe,
    Beneath the weight of night’s cold glow.

    The sorceress turned, her gaze met the others,
    A silent bond both fierce and delicate like smothers.
    She beckoned close, her fingers curled,
    And swirled those unfortunates through her shadowed world.

    A beginning of a frantic dance upon a sea of mist,
    Where every wing gust felt like a tryst,
    With darkness draped in velvet black,
    And the time that twisted, bent, and cracked.

    The spell then broke; the dream grew thin,
    Those delusionals found themselves where they’d once been.
    The gate was gone, the night was still,
    But in every heart, there lingered a chill.

    For though every heart left that cursed realm,
    Its shadows clung; they overwhelmed.
    And in every soul, dreams and spells were bound,
    Whispered secrets lost, never to be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Magic Insolence

    Magic Insolence

    Magic insolence evoked profane desires,
    Blooming in the garden of passion,
    When stupor and chaos fed the soil and roots,
    Under a cloudy sky deprived of stars.

    Arcane dreams devoured the bright lights,
    Devoiding the garden of passion with
    Whispers of forgotten rites and shadows,
    As petals withered, blackened in the night.

    The soil became thick with cursed intent,
    Breathed out a sigh of ancient grief,
    While tangled roots writhed, twisting beneath,
    Feeding on darkness, refusing ascent.

    No stars to guide, no moon to shine,
    Only the heft of silent doom,
    As ghostly winds stirred the gloom,
    The garden lay as time resigned.

    The aura itself seemed enthralled by dread,
    A spell unspoken lingered still,
    Bound to the earth with haunting will,
    Where only a magic insolence and madness dared to tread.

    The trees stood twisted, gaunt and bare,
    Their branches claws in the murky air.
    Each leaf that fell was a silent cry,
    A prayer was unanswered beneath the sky.

    The whispers grew louder, fierce and cold,
    Echoing tales of secrets untold.
    A dance of shadows began to weave,
    Between the tombstones of those who grieve.

    The flowers, once vibrant with lustrous hue,
    Now seeped with sorrow, soaked in blood and dew.
    Their beauty lost in the endless night,
    A memory fading, devoured by blight.

    And in the heart of this cursed domain,
    Where once passion thrived, now only pain,
    A wraith emerged from the creeping dark,
    Magic insolence entrapped everything with a mystical spark.

    With a vacant stare, it gazed in despair,
    Bound forever to the garden’s snare.
    A prisoner to the magic’s cost,
    In this garden where all was lost.

    The wind moaned softly, a mournful plea,
    For the magic of insolence would never release what could never be free,
    As the cursed garden stretched its roots,
    To claim the souls of shattered fruits.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Bride of Night

    The Bride of Night

    The bride of night hid beneath the veil of an endless night,
    A castle loomed in the dying light,
    Its spires clawing the storm-torn sky,
    Where whispers of forgotten souls still cry.

    The moon, a phantom, pale and weak,
    Hanged in the sky, too cold to speak,
    Its silver gaze fell hard on stone,
    Where shadows gathered, dark and alone.

    The wind it moaned through hollow halls,
    Brushing against the ancient walls,
    Each corner filled with a chilling dread,
    A monument to the long-lost dead.

    Within, a figure roamed the gloom,
    A spectre bound to eternal doom,
    Her eyes, once bright, were hollowed now,
    A crown of sorrow upon her brow.

    She wandered through forgotten rooms,
    Her footsteps were lost in the echoing tombs,
    Searching for a love long passed,
    A memory that time could never cast.

    The candles flickered, faded, and died,
    As shadows danced and serpents lay,
    While silence reigned in its darkest form,
    And dread became the only norm.

    In this castle, time froze still,
    A kingdom lost to an ancient will,
    Where love and hope had long decayed,
    And only shadows in sorrow stayed.

    So here she lingered, bound by fate,
    In this eternal, cursed estate,
    The queen of grief, the bride of night,
    Forever lost in endless blight.

    Her voice, a whisper carried by the wind,
    Calls out for a lover that fate rescinded.
    But the cold, dead halls returned no sound,
    Only silence reigned supreme where grief was crowned.

    The raven watched from its perch on high,
    A witness to the mournful sky,
    While the castle walls decayed and broke,
    As time devoured, all love’s mistakes.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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