Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dreams

  • Decadent Dreams

    Decadent Dreams

    Decadent dreams hid beneath a sky of velvet blackness,
    Where the moonlight dripped with silver gleam,
    I wandered through the shadows’ track,
    Ensnared within a luscious scent of peonies and magnolias.

    The atmosphere was rich with crystal cries,
    Each echoing from lips unseen,
    Their hollow tones, like lullabies,
    Enchanted by the night’s routine.

    The trees, like skeletons, did sway,
    Their bony fingers grazed my skin,
    And in the distance, far away,
    A mansion stood, draped deep within.

    Its windows glowed a ghostly red,
    Where once the living thrived in grace,
    Now filled with spirits long since dead,
    Whose laughter lingered in that place.

    I climbed the steep steps of crumbling stone,
    Through doors that sighed beneath my hand,
    Inside, I stood cold and alone like a flower made of bones,
    Within a hollow, haunted land.

    The walls were clothed in silk and gold,
    Yet dust adorned each tarnished crown,
    And tapestries, though bright and bold,
    Now sagged beneath the weight of frowns.

    I strolled in halls that stretched like years,
    Where mirrors showed no form of mine,
    And every sculpture fell in drops with tears,
    From eyes that once dared cross the line.

    A figure there, with a gown of night,
    Approached me in a silent haze,
    Her face a mask of absent light,
    Her touch was a spark of ancient days.

    She whispered softly in my ear,
    Of pleasures lost and time undone,
    Of paths that led to pain and fear,
    And dreams decayed beneath the sun.

    I left her there, a wraith of yore,
    And fled the mansion’s ghastly glow,
    But still her voice, forevermore,
    Remains with me wherever I go.

    For in that place of nightmarish gleams,
    I found no peace, no sweet release,
    Only the echo of decadent dreams,
    That haunts me now and never ceases.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Hollow Nights

    Hollow Nights

    In hollow nights when the stars dared not shine,
    Dreams wandered through hidden mazes, lost in the pine of yearning.
    The aura, full of gloom and despair,
    Bore witness to nightmares that haunted every tear.

    The moon, a mere phantom, cast shadows so pale,
    Illuminated paths where memories wailed.
    Each rustle of leaves echoed tales of the past,
    Of elation that lingered, of joy that would not last.

    I trod lightly on secret spells, each tale hid behind a soft sigh,
    In the silence that wrapped me, I could only comply.
    The darkness embraced me, a cloak worn so tight,
    As I was lost through the remnants of a once-bright night.

    The trees stood like sentinels, guarding the pain,
    Of lovers long lost and the tears that remained.
    Their branches, like fingers, reached out to the moon,
    As if begging for solace, a fleeting tune.

    In the heart of the night, where shadows conspired,
    I sought out the devotion of a long-dead fire.
    But the embers lay cold, buried under the frost,
    A reminder of passion, of the love that was lost.

    And yet, in this hollow, a strange harmony I found,
    In the stillness that lingered, a gentle, soothing sound.
    Since the hollow nights were filled with the past,
    A labyrinth made of memories gathered.

    So I wandered through Twilight, embraced by the night,
    In the hollow of silence, my dreams faded under invisible clouds,
    Each gust of wind was a ghost of delight,
    In the desolate nights where the stars dared not shine.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Embrace of the Void

    The Embrace of the Void

    In the embrace of the void, where shadows entwine,
    I surrendered my heart to the arcane silence.
    Here, in the stillness, all sounds had ceased,
    I found my own peace, but my spirit was leased.

    The night wrapped around me like a lover’s caress,
    With each sigh, I let slip a whisper of grief.
    I wandered through landscapes where no light could intrude,
    Lost in the abyss of a sorrowful realm.

    The stars above flickered like memories gone,
    Their light was just a glimmer, a glimpse of the dawn.
    In the embrace of the void, time slipped away,
    A moment eternal, where shadows held sway.

    I felt the cold raindrops of darkness draw near,
    A shroud woven tightly, instilling pure fear.
    Yet strangely, within this chasm, I discovered a treasure,
    A comfort in stillness, a profound solace.

    For what is the void but a mirror of myself,
    Reflecting the depths of my own anguish?
    I wandered unanchored, yet strangely at home,
    In the embrace of the emptiness, forever to linger.

    The silence, a canvas where thoughts drift and sway,
    In colours of longing, that time can’t allay.
    Each heartbeat was a reminder of love left behind,
    In the void’s deep embrace, my heart was unconfined.

    And so I perpetually abide in this realm of despair,
    Where shadows stroke me, and darkness stands revealed.
    Since, only in the embrace of the void, I am free,
    Forever entwined in this haunting decree.

    In the oblivion, I confront the phantoms that dwell in my mind,
    A haunting chorus of echoes, relentless and cruel.
    In dreams and nightmares, I’m lured into this desolate place,
    Hence, I embrace the infinite darkness, each shadow, each sorrow, each trace.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Night of Illusions

    A Night of Illusions

    A night of illusions and dreams in the realm of nowhere,
    Where shadows crept, and whispers filled the still, damp air.
    The moon hung low, a pale ghost in the starry sky,
    Casting spectral light on graves long and dry.

    Winds howled like banshees through trees long dead,
    Their gnarled branches reached, filled with dread.
    Crimson leaves scattered in the night,
    Cloaked in darkness, absent of light.

    A night of illusions, where reality frayed,
    Through twisted paths, a figure strayed.
    Each step grew heavier, like feet carved from stone,
    The ground below whined, archaic and cold as bone.

    Eyes glowed from hollows, hidden in the darkness,
    Watching every move, waiting to strike, heartless.
    A chill crept down each spine, freezing all breath,
    The air was thick with decay, the scent of death.

    In the distance, a chapel, broken and bleak,
    Its doors cracked open with a hollow creak.
    It beckoned, its silence heavy with dread,
    Inside, only wails of the forsaken dead.

    Candles flickered, faint embers on the wall,
    Casting eerie shadows, giants dark and tall.
    The silence screamed louder than any sound,
    As knees touched the cold, stone ground.

    The wind seemed to whisper a forgotten name,
    A soul trapped forever in a cold, endless flame.
    Cobwebs clung to the altar, brittle and old,
    Where stories of sorrow and death had been told.

    Mysterious figures appeared, cloaked in tattered black,
    Their hollow gaze stared a shadow at the back.
    They beckoned forward into the abyss,
    Promising solace with ghostly grimaces.

    A night of illusions and nightmares, an entranced and silent visitation,
    As mist gathered thickly, a mournful pall.
    Deeper ghouls went through crypts of stone,
    Where no heart had beat, no seed had been sown.

    A voice whispered, soft and clear,
    “Welcome to your fate; you belong here.”
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations stood in ruins beneath an indifferent sky,
    Its arches bent, its towers broken,
    Its promises faded away too soon.

    Winds howled through the hollowed halls,
    Where once the fate bright had shone.
    Dreams drifted like the autumn leaves,
    Long dead but never entirely gone.

    Shattered windows framed the sky,
    Where hope once rose but now fell fast.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations
    Watched as time dragged out the past.

    Its walls had held such hopes and dreams,
    But those were buried deep in stone.
    Each vow, each word, each fleeting thought,
    Eroded by time, cold and alone.

    Forgotten by the world outside,
    Its gates, once open, were now closed tight.
    A monument to loss and grief,
    It drowned in the depth of endless night.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations was a haven once,
    But like all things, it too decayed,
    Its walls were too frail to endlessly endure.

    There were relics and memories from years gone by,
    But now they were just ghosts in the air.
    Colours and glimmers, faint, like shadows passed,
    Through corridors that lead nowhere.

    A kingdom built on fragile hope,
    Now overtaken by despair.
    Every dream that once gleamed radiant now lay broken,
    Scattered everywhere.

    Vines crept over forgotten doors,
    Their tendrils strangled what remained,
    And ivy choked the marble floors,
    In time’s indifferent, endless chains.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations witnessed the love that turned to dust.
    No joy remained, no delight, no glow,
    Only fragments of misplaced trust.

    Each stone, once laid with tender hands,
    Now crumbles under sorrow’s poundage.
    The days grew long, the nights grew cold,
    And silence sealed its final fate.

    A tower, once monumental, collapsed in pain,
    Its windows were ravaged, stained with tears.
    It fell not with a roar or cry,
    But with a whisper through the years.

    The shattered castle of forsaken dreams stood now as a tomb to all that was gone,
    A hollow relic of dreams once lustrous,
    And lives that flickered out at dawn.

    No sun will rise, no dawn will break,
    No voices will call out its name.
    Only the wind will mourn its fate,
    And time will erase its fleeting flame.

    A silent ghost whose memories were too faint to be kept.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations fell to dust and ceased to exist.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Invisible Cage

    The Invisible Cage

    The invisible cage was tight enough to trap every dream,
    Chains made of silence had bound sighs and hearts in an endless void of despair,
    Where hope was swallowed whole, and nothingness reigned.

    Having wandered through shadows, searching for hope,
    Each dream had been a reminder of an endless fight and failure.
    Darkness and light were trapped within the confines of an unseen embrace.

    A realm depleted of colour and lost without a trace,
    Whose walls were made of disquiet and the ceilings of doubt,
    Each teardrop had been a reminder of the dreams that screamed out.

    Yearned for freedom that dared just beyond,
    A flicker of hope had kept the spirit fond.
    The fences and chains were made of silence and fears deeply sown,
    And each thought became a reminder of how far distress and anguish had shown.

    The invisible cage was unseen but powerful,
    Had held the wandering spirits captive for far too long.
    Each day had felt like a ferocious struggle, and the nights had been long,
    Crushed beneath the weight of what seemed so unfair.

    Stares had looked to the sky where eagles had soared free,
    While the stars remained bound, longing to flee.
    In the abysm of the imagination, rebellion had ignited,
    Boldness had broken through what once was blighted.

    Desires had been filled with expectations beyond the realm of shadows,
    As the senses wandered through the endless dark.
    Each belief had turned to chains that dug deeper still,
    Like a well without water or a promise that would never be fulfilled.

    Though the cage had been hidden, its power had increased,
    Everything turned to dust like shattered crystals.
    In the garden of distress, the nightmares had bloomed and thrived,
    Sorrows were carved on each leaf and petal.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Forsaken Dreams

    Forsaken Dreams

    Forsaken dreams lay scattered like leaves on a desolate lawn,
    Beneath the weight of darkness, shadows loomed and sighed.
    A castle crumbled in the grip of despair,
    Fragments of hope were lost and hanging in the void.

    Wandering through silence where visions once soared,
    Stillness wrapped tightly around the forgotten.
    Each step was like drifting through memories frayed,
    As ghosts of ambition haunted paths once laid.

    Forgotten dreams, like stars turned to ash,
    Fleeting glimpses of futures that faded too fast.
    The sounds now muted, cold as stone,
    While shadows enveloped, tales left unknown.

    In a chamber of portraits, their faces half-blurred,
    The dreams of youth, in stillness, unheard.
    Calling from corners of places long lost,
    Whispering gently of the lines once crossed.

    Nonetheless, deep in the stillness, a flicker of pain,
    Forsaken dreams lingered; in shadows, they remained.
    Each one a reminder of battles hard-fought,
    Of fires within that time forgot.

    But hope lay buried, covered in dust,
    From ashes of sorrow, it rose from distrust.
    Gathering fragments, each whisper, each scream,
    In the dark of the night, the lost dream was redeemed.

    Mended the pieces, igniting a spark,
    Reviving the forgotten, illuminating the dark.
    For dreams, though shattered, never entirely die—
    In the heart of the dreamer, they eternally lie.

    Through the mist of despair, a path was found,
    With each heartbeat, shadows chased from the ground.
    Though night still lingered, dawn followed close,
    And in the garden of longing, hope arose.

    With courage reborn, a star now stood,
    Embracing the dawn, the new morning understood.
    In the silence of the night, fate was rewritten,
    For in dreams, belonging is always forgiven.

    Forsaken dreams lingered in the shadows,
    Casting ancient spells to find lost treasures.
    Forgotten mysteries carried the weight of unrealised desires,
    Although beneath the sorrow, a quiet strength stirred,
    Yearning for light once more.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dead Dreams

    Dead Dreams

    Dead dreams haunted
    the hollow realm,
    where forgotten hopes withered
    beneath a sky
    of perpetual dusk.

    Once, this place had been
    crowded with life,
    with hope,
    with the vibrant pulse of chance.
    But those days were long gone,
    and now the only inhabitants
    were ghosts
    of forgotten desires.

    Regret lingered
    as sharp and suffocating as smoke,
    tainting everything
    it touched.

    Dead dreams lingered
    in the corners,
    hiding in the cracks of walls,
    in the dust that coated
    every room.

    The house was falling apart,
    its bones creaking
    under the strain of time.

    The windows were broken,
    the doors hanging loose
    on their hinges,
    and yet something remained—
    a presence, invisible,
    undeniable,
    watched from the shadows.

    Dead dreams whispered
    through the air,
    soft voices,
    insistent.

    They spoke
    of what could have been,
    of paths not taken,
    of futures lost.

    Their words wound
    through the halls,
    pulling deeper
    into the heart
    of decay.

    The walls seemed to close in,
    the rooms growing smaller,
    more suffocating.

    The air was thick with dust,
    with the weight
    of years.

    Dead dreams never indeed die;
    they fade,
    becoming one with shadows,
    with silence.

    The house would stand forever,
    a monument
    to what was lost,
    to what could never
    be reclaimed.

    In the end,
    it would claim all,
    just as it had claimed
    those who came before.

    There was no escape
    from the dead dreams.

    They lingered on
    long afterlife
    had left.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful dreams in darkness brewed,
    The world outside in silence stewed.
    A chill hung thick as whispers weaved,
    Through hollow halls, where none believed.

    A castle loomed, its walls decayed,
    Where time had stopped and light delayed.
    Through labyrinths that none had known,
    They wandered there, each one alone.

    Figures rose from meadows like thorns,
    With eyes that bled and voices steeped,
    In sorrows long since left unsaid,
    Now, pulling dreamers to the dead.

    Dreadful dreams, where shadows crept,
    Beneath their lids, no restful sleep.
    The night grew cold, the visions swayed,
    In twisted forms, the mind was betrayed.

    No way to flee, no path to run,
    For night devoured every sun.
    The walls grew impenetrable, the air was poison,
    And trapped everyone in an endless prison.

    In the silence, whispers of fright,
    Haunted souls wander, lost from sight.
    Each gust a toil, each step a plight,
    As darkness consumed every fading light.

    Dreadful dreams, where mirrors cracked,
    And whispers from the void slammed.
    A thousand clouds lost in space,
    All seeking what they couldn’t chase.

    Souls entwined with endless fear,
    Never to wake, forever near.
    The moon, once full, was now cracked and pale,
    Its silver light began to fail.

    And as the fading shades crept,
    The dreamers into silence wept.
    The night consumed all hopes and screams,
    And left them bound to dreadful dreams.

    Dreadful dreams wandered like shades of night,
    Whispered softly beneath dark skies.
    Each dwelling became a fearsome sight,
    As shadows moved in the dimming light.

    Desires entwined with seizing dread,
    Wandering everywhere, but hope had fled.
    Each secret carried tales of woe,
    As spectres flickered, fast and slow.

    In the gloom, no spark remained,
    No bright memory could have been preserved.
    The dreamers sought the light once more,
    But shadows beckoned from the shore.

    Dreadful dreams chased every fleeting glow,
    Finding themselves in depths below.
    With every instant, the darkness grew,
    A truth obscured, a world askew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • On The Verge Of Doom

    On The Verge Of Doom

    On the verge of doom, where shadows cling,
    Beneath the endless skies of decay, no light to show.
    A land of sighs and tears breathes its last, steeped in dread,
    As night consumes, the sun leaves all hopes dead.

    The scent of oppression pervades with shadows of despair,
    Each dream becomes an illusion as the world lies broken.
    The trees stand twisted, their branches bare,
    Grasping at the stars as if seeking solace unspoken.

    On the verge of doom, the silence reigns,
    A haunting emptiness of forgotten pains.
    The moon hangs dim, a spectre in the night,
    Casting ghostly glimmers, a wicked light.

    Raindrops fade softly along the cobbled lane,
    Where memories linger, steeped in anguish and pain.
    The castle looms, its towers cracked and worn,
    A sentinel of sorrow, where dreams are torn.

    On the verge of doom, in chambers adorned,
    With dust and despair, wraiths of phantoms curl.
    They beckon with tales of those lost to time,
    Of loves that withered, of life’s cruel rhyme.

    Hope strives to cling tenaciously to the edge of the night,
    A flicker, a spark, in the grip of the fright.
    But darkness devours, as it always has done and always will,
    And on the verge of doom, all battles are worthless.

    On the verge of doom, the silence hangs heavy,
    Darkness creeps upon all realms, its grip tightening fast.
    Desire turns to ashes, consumed by the keeper,
    In this hollow silence, all dreams are betrayed.

    In the echoes of silence, in the depth of the gloom,
    Lies the haunting refrain of impending doom.
    Among the shadows where the weary hearts dwell,
    Forever entwined in the web of the invisible.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah