Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dungeon

  • The Death In Front Of Me

    The Death In Front Of Me

    The death in front of me manifested in the night
    During my solitary stroll in the gelid streets
    Where no one could have saved me
    Surrounded by the whispers of dead spirit and madness

    The death inside myself amused me without any doubt
    The fantasies and memories that constantly would have hunted me
    They disappeared in the emptiness of the night
    And I alone had to face all my fears and anguishes
    Without any help or comfort

    Conscious of my unfair fate, I had to seek refuge in my inner thoughts
    Where I have could definitely be myself
    With no remorse or regrets
    Aiming to the most pure, and beautiful realm of my dreams

    A realm of visions and dreams was conceived by my weirdness and bizarre imagination
    Uncontrolled emotions pervaded my body until my bones
    And I didn’t feel anymore the frigid wind that stroked me
    I couldn’t even realise in which reality I was living in

    The darkness and the absolute silence were my loyal companions
    Although all the bizarre fantasies in my mind were always making noise
    And all I could see was the death in front of me
    Waiting for me to fall into decay
    I ended up in my dungeon, from where I never could have escaped

    My heart was entirely lost and full of longings
    And I couldn’t find any reasonable wisdom
    So much I was mislaid in my realm of illusions
    That I couldn’t see other realities than mine

    Nevertheless, when I was awakened from my slumber
    I felt the pain of my suffering and the transience of my imagination
    Yearning for a long-lost serenity that I never had
    A utopia made of ethereal beauty and love

    The death in front of me strove to possess me
    But it never had the chance to seize me
    Instead, I slipped through its grasp among the several shadows of the night
    Elisabetta

  • The Dungeon of Sadness

    The Dungeon of Sadness

    The dungeon of sadness was a trap of beauty and delight,
    Luring dreams and visions to embark on a journey in its labyrinthine trails,
    Until they were soaked in sorrow and grief,
    Like dead leaves trapped in a swamp.

    A suffocating heft bore down, laden with despair,
    Wrapping around like an overwhelming shroud.
    The walls wept, their stone faces slick
    With tears of ages long forgotten.

    A faint glow oozed through the fractures,
    Not of longing but of some unearthly dread,
    Casting shapes that jigged like phantoms,
    Teasing the lost who wandered within.

    Corroded chains clung to the slammer’s bones,
    Each link was an eerie monument to captive dreams.
    The silence wailed louder than screams,
    Like oppression depressing the weary senses.

    This labyrinth of grief and distress became a realm of nightmares,
    Where there was no escape but only deception.
    The sky became overcrowded with ominous clouds,
    Which smothered all the luminaries striving to gleam through the gloom.

    A mist of languid sorrow and melancholy steered like a lugubre presage,
    Hope was a fleeting spectre whose whispers drowned in the ocean of oblivion.
    The mirror of torments reflected the anguish of each soul,
    And all the joy and light were depleted in the dungeon of sadness.

    The maw of despair devoured the time,
    And its beauty lay in the perfection of its torments,
    Such a cruel art that was engraved in endless suffering dreams,
    A lament that echoed eternally in the void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted obsessions of failed dreams,
    In the darkened corners of the subconscious,
    Where shadows unleashed dreams unwound,
    A world of obsessions, all alone.

    Whispers echoed through the sordid obscurity,
    Drawing wraiths to forbidden lights,
    A touch, a sigh, a fleeting glance,
    Lost in the thrall of a reckless trance.

    Desires stolen and broken, out of reach,
    Longings hidden, cruel and true,
    Yearning for those invisible chimaeras the day denied,
    In silent, shamed, and sleazy cries.

    Souls that sought what they should shun,
    Minds that ached for the undone,
    In a labyrinth of illusions and betrayal,
    Obsessions took their hidden refuge.

    A tangled web of despair and loss,
    A dungeon where dark passions bred,
    Haunted in a ghostly daze,
    Lost forever in a damning swirl.

    A gloom and spark remained amidst the chains of dissolution,
    On the deepest night, twisted obsessions ensnared all the dreamers,
    In an abyss of despair and fear with no turning points,
    Even if hope was not a lost cause.

    Twisted obsessions of gloomy fates were the cruel rulers of chaotic existences,
    Once again, they were reborn each nighttime,
    Under the influence of an uncertain order of arcane forces.

    Numbness and slumber remained faithful companions of painful reveries,
    Whenever the desire for despair and sorrow trapped every delight,
    In the midst of the chaos and unknown,
    A game of subjugation and delirium.

    Twisted obsessions and sad insanities,
    Danced on the edges of broken hearts,
    Feeding on the remnants of the soundness of mind,
    Spinning tales of endless binds.

    Sighs of broken promises were released,
    Only to fall into the most profound distress of the night,
    Where shadows became the only lonely and friendly essences,
    And the sun’s happiness was out of sight.

    In such a realm, where reality was fractured,
    Dreams and fears became a forest of drear,
    A fictitious masquerade of hopes defiled,
    By the weight of twisted time.

    Indeed, in the heart of this desolation,
    Every gleam of delight faded away,
    Souls were swallowed by the dark embrace,
    And lost dreams continued to fray.

    Twisted obsessions, relentless and cold,
    Fractured every delight into a shattered mould,
    Leaving behind a void where hope had once dwelled.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Life Made Of Thorns

    A Life Made Of Thorns

    A life made of thorns and wounds and from whom I could ever be the same
    Sometimes things seem a happy game
    Where there is so little to learn
    My heart will be a dream of gold and pearls
    Not having any idea of what it is worth to keep
    In the deception that will always be better at dusk
    From my heart and mind
    As I seek to be pure and untamed
    Always striving to endure the pains

    A life made of thorns
    In this universe, I see only nothing but evil lies
    No longer are you in my heart in any form
    Desires and love
    Unveested and possessed
    And I am filled with a bitter grudge
    Wearing a new fire dress
    The flowers are still there in the garden
    Pretending that the delusions never arrived
    All the past thoughts fled too quickly

    A life made of thorns and gold
    When everything is lost till a dream comes
    In an eternal journey where I was left to survive
    My mind is concealed to the sun growing old
    Every regret has age and shines just like light
    Finding every single glow in my mind and soul
    It looks like everything is secret in my fate
    I can feel the peace of mind and stillness
    There is no fear when there is no hope to acquire
    The magic of exquisite and petrified words is bound to my soul

    A life made of thorns and stones
    The stars linger over flares and bursts
    In the dungeon where I reside, I can hold the sight of my soul
    No longer bound to any mediocre clasp
    Passions are so brief and shallow
    A sheer memory seized my heart
    A feeling of pure desire and bliss melts on my lips
    Nothing but loyal dread brings dreams into my universe
    Sore reflections and unsteadiness of life
    Love kept me blind and meek until I undisclosed a new belief.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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