Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: decay

  • 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

  • The Enchanted Ruins

    The Enchanted Ruins

    The enchanted ruins were lost to time’s embrace,
    Where ivy clung to stone’s cold face,
    The echoes of a past forlorn,
    Resided within the ancient morn.

    The moonlight wove through the broken spire,
    Casting shadows that inspired,
    A mournful dance of spectres old,
    In ruins where their stories fold.

    The crumbling arches, silent wept,
    In sorrow’s breath, the night had slept,
    A whisper through the shattered hall,
    Of secrets lost and shadows tall.

    The ivy wrapped around the past,
    A painting of time steadfast,
    Its tendrils clutched at memories,
    Of joys dissolved in whispered pleas.

    Through labyrinths where echoes played,
    And remnants of the past decayed,
    The silence spoke of love and loss,
    And dreams once magnificent have turned to moss.

    The enchanted ruins were not anymore a majestic mansion,
    They lay beneath the moon’s soft code,
    Each stone was a witness to the years,
    A monument to vanished tears.

    Their splendour, now a fleeting glance,
    In the realm of twilight’s trance,
    Recounted tales of lives once bright,
    Now fading into an endless night.

    The ivy’s grip, a gentle thief,
    Enshrouded the past in quiet grief,
    Its leaves whispered of days gone by,
    Beneath the ever-weeping sky.

    In this desolate domain,
    A certain beauty did remain,
    For through the sorrow, light could trace,
    The haunting grace of time’s embrace was felt.

    Wandering shadows were silent remnants of forgotten tales,
    The moon’s dim light unveiled sorrow’s concealed details,
    In this forsaken place where time ceaselessly failed,
    Ghosts of the past lingered in haunted trails.

    These enchanted ruins held a timeless lore,
    Of what was cherished, lost, and more,
    A spectral dance beneath the moon,
    A memory’s melancholic tune.

    Amidst the echoes, faded sighs,
    The enchanted ruins whispered goodbyes,
    Of vanished joys, solemn grace,
    In the quiet of this haunted place.

    In moonlit silence, shadows entwined with forsaken longings,
    An ethereal realm where dreams once grieved,
    Through time’s embrace and the past refrained,
    A mournful song of bliss and anguish.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Manor

    The Melancholy Manor

    The melancholy manor, grand yet worn,
    Hosted a ghost of sorrow born,
    Its halls were cold, its rooms were bare,
    With echoes of despair.

    The chandelier, it swayed with ease,
    In the drafts of phantom breezes,
    Its crystals caught the moon’s cold light,
    Casting shadows in the night.

    Portraits hung on walls of dust,
    Faces faded, lost to rust,
    Their gazes, they followed every move,
    In this mansion, none could have soothed.

    A piano in the corner stood alone,
    Its keys were untouched by mortal hands,
    It played a tune of deep lament,
    A melody of sorrow spent.

    In the library, books decayed,
    Their pages brown, their words away,
    Each ancient tome was a tale of love and loss,
    Of souls that paid the highest cost.

    The garden, wild with creeping vines,
    Its beauty was lost to dark edges,
    A fountain dry, its waters gone,
    A symbol of what’s passed and done.

    The mirrors cracked, reflecting the past,
    Of memories that could not have lasted,
    A phantom’s face, a spectral tear,
    They waited for someone who was not near.

    The staircase creaked with every step,
    A sound that made the silence weep,
    Its bannister, a cold embrace,
    Of hands that longed for warmest grace.

    The clock ticked in mournful chime,
    A metronome of endless time,
    In every corner, shadows played,
    In the manor, where ghosts stayed.

    Whoever found themselves trapped inside,
    This house of sorrow, thick and evanescent,
    Remembered those who lived before,
    And left their grief within its doors.

    The melancholy manor was silent and forsaken,
    On the inside, lingering threads of lost despair,
    The manor held its secrets tight,
    Within the grip of endless nights.

    Cobwebs draped like silken shrouds,
    Ensnaring dreams beneath their clouds,
    Time was immutable in haunted gloom,
    Where sorrow was the only bloom.

    Outside, the wind began to howl,
    Echoing the manor’s mournful growl,
    The world moved on, but there it stayed,
    A relic of the lives betrayed.

    No respite from the phantom’s call,
    Bound to the melancholy hall,
    The manor wept with ghostly grace,
    A timeless, haunted, solemn place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Darkness And Decay

    Darkness And Decay

    In the chasms of night, where shadows writhe and obscure the realm of dreams
    Darkness reigns supreme, entwined with the essence of decay
    It is within this shroud of obsidian gloom that the universe is overwhelmed by an eerie embrace
    Where time’s touch wanes and all once resonant fade into the abyss
    Amidst this realm of dusk, decay whispers its tales in every crevice and corner as a silent harbinger of life’s ephemeral essence
    It lurks in the forgotten remote mysteries, where ancient memories collide with the present
    Each passing moment engraves its mark upon the crumbling towers of existence
    The cadence of decay resonates through the dusk
    A haunting tune echoes in the hollows of time
    Shadows prom upon the remnants of what once thrived
    Casting an unsettling sway of demise and dissolution
    Each glimmer of darkness clasps a tale of its own
    Veiling secrets lost to the relentless march of passing days
    In the heart of darkness, every decay becomes a creation
    A portrait of existences with somber shades and melancholic tones
    It weaves intricate tangles of hesitations, where the once flourished desires now succumb to the inevitable promenade of moments
    Embracing the snare of glooms and the relentless journey toward the unknown
    Amidst the tendrils of decay and shadows, within this twilight realm lies an inexplicable magnificence
    Disclosure of the transitoriness as an interplay of darkness and decay
    A wistful reminder of ephemeral splendors and unreachable idylls
    Fleeting instants before they fade into the obscurity of the eternal night
    To nevermore re-emerge once swallowed into the infinite nothingness
    Immensity becomes an imperceptible particle of stardust
    Every futile intemperance of impalpable dreams slumbers within the enigmatic precipice of the void
    Amid the indiscernible whispers of forgotten longings and nebulous desires, the intangible threads of spectral fantasies lose their grip
    And the boundaries of reality blur into a mosaic of undefined chances
    Like transient voyagers adrift in the boundless sea of the subconscious
    The dreams oscillate between semblance and nothingness, lingering on the frail brink of manifestation
    Mirrors of remembrances reflect the tantalizing and elusive labyrinths of the unconsciousness
    An eerie allure explores the tangled abysm of the unknown
    Phantasmagorical fragments dissolve into the arcane emptiness, leaving behind wisps of evanescent longing.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Agony Of Uncertainty

    The Agony Of Uncertainty

    The agony of uncertainty is my dwelling
    It was all I had written on a mirror
    A long sequence of characters
    Which I used to write
    And nothing further
    Forever and never
    I have been lost
    Striving to remember my name and my story
    Since I was born with a great devotion to art
    Such joy should be life
    Once everything has been forgotten with time

    The agony of uncertainty is a tree in the sea
    Where it is possible to be merry
    A moment has come to bear a perceived memory
    Like dreams repeatedly created and destroyed
    Each season and new year
    The time is past and never hides
    Torments are shortened by days and nights
    To avoid suffering and distress
    I might become pleased as I would pretend
    My past life never existed
    Becoming something imaginary

    The agony of uncertainty is a dark forest
    Where the wounds never disappear
    Only memories can unfold
    Looking onward and writing my dreams
    And all those unconcealed secrets
    That the soul keeps as the deepest memories
    The nightmares of the heart are lost in the dark
    The fate of dark stars is entwined in indifference
    The gloom of endless thoughts of sorrow
    Lost forever in a silent emptiness
    Which never dies

    The agony of uncertainty and pain
    Thereupon I move forward through the long desert of death
    Reaching more intention and joy
    My thoughts are made of fears
    Bleeding each time, I became wiser
    No hope was found in the devotion of love
    Instants of lust in the deepest silence
    Fretting about the decay of every bliss
    Dread should last forever in death
    When everything is lost
    The truth is the door of a new consciousness

    The agony of uncertainty and delight
    Always shining in an infinite reality
    My heart is truly sacred
    Beyond deception and mendacity
    Seeking the truth as an insight
    When no choice is granted
    The tears, like fright, lit the earth
    The grief within my soul is still alive
    I should not always be afraid
    Gifted with patience to keep
    My soul is bound to be naive.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Screech Of Indifference

    The Screech Of Indifference

    The Screech Of Indifference

    The screech of indifference
    The invisible shape of disillusions
    When the caducity of time and entities
    Fall into a throb of hope
    Whilst incorporeal feelings
    Are bent by gusts of distress.

    A deprivation of emotions alters
    Transforming into a blaze of greed and obsession
    The death of illusions breaks the artifice of existence
    Similar to a dream melting into a vortex of torments.

    Decay and ineptitude overcome
    Once the tremor of mediocrity
    Obliterate every sparkle of sublimity
    And silent wretchedness tarnishes every edge
    In the infinite ocean of longings.

    The screech of indifference
    In a state of desertion of the souls
    Longings of burning deceptions
    A surreal and imaginary mystery
    Surrounded by hideous monstrosities.

    Limping shards of a lost whisper
    Disguise in the shadow of an instant
    A gathering of wonders and desires seizes endless anguishes
    When reminiscences dissolve in the ethereal.

    The intangible world of the ideas
    Collapses in the dreary chasm of the metaphysical
    The hesitation of a glimpse of a dream
    Disappears in a hidden spoil of eternal emptiness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Imperfect Heavenly Shimmer

    An Imperfect Heavenly Shimmer

    An Imperfect Heavenly Shimmer

    An imperfect heavenly shimmer collapses beyond memories
    A serene sorrow decays into a radiant touch
    A hesitating surprise dissolves in a gilded glaze
    A whispered instant is lost in every secret desire
    An unending wonder of sadness shrouds an unreal world
    Where endless spaces are filled with emptiness
    Obscure fears enclose elusive illusions
    Whilst fate devours cold shadows of dismay
    Peaceful dreams reflect on the mirror of deception
    A hushed enigma unfolds an embezzled prospect
    Scornful glooms swallow every shining longing
    In a perpetual hideous frolic of life and death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Deep Slumber

    Deep Slumber

    Deep Slumber

    Empty spaces in the valley of illusion
    Gloomy clouds overshadow dark trees with deformed branches
    A deep slumber creates weakness and decay
    The pouring rain descends in the shape of tides of sorrow
    The revelation of a pale light dazzles the horizon of dreams
    Birds sing silently in the aether
    Leaden clouds encircle each other in a game of dances
    In a sky that no longer has stars
    The brook flows frantically
    Mirrors are invisible doors to a hidden universe
    The universe of metaphysical darkness
    Burning down in the pit of anguish
    Where identical shadows live in a un unbearable stillness
    And muted sounds are forgotten in the oblivious abyss of silence.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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