Desolate echoes lingered in abandoned chambers of dreams, whispering tales of solitude.
Shadows cast a loud silence, disclosing secrets in the cold stillness.
Unheard voices were forsaken since bygone years, and memories were etched in the walls.
In the quietude, loneliness took its place as a haunting companion.
Yet within this emptiness, a subtle prowess emerged, somewhat like a silent resistance to the echoes of solitude.
Life’s intricate story unfolded in the hushed mazes of fantasy, where absurdities encountered reality.
Among the ruins of neglected reveries, sighs faded with the winds, and heartbeats of longings melted in silent harmonies.
Twilights painted desolated hues of melancholy as the moonlight weaved tales of forlorn hopes.
Treads of yesteryears resonated in the haunted dwellings of nostalgia, tracing the path of dreams forever lost to time.
In the realm of dark shadows, the dance of memories continued perpetually, revealing fragments of elapsed times like whispers in the dusk.
Amid the debris of desolate thoughts, perseverance bloomed as a quiet anthem of strength rising from the ashes of what once existed.
In the obliviousness of nonsense and despair, silent and gloomy tears created a mosaic of fate and disgrace.
The seal of destiny inscribed engravings on the sand, whose strokes weaved threads of anguish and uncertainty into the narrative of time.
Through the window of dismay, lone stars witnessed the transit of forgotten tales, casting their glow on the realm of the infinity.
In the secretive silence, unbounded solaces embraced the emptiness of futile yearnings, conveying stories of elusive contentment in the furtive enigmas.
And all of a sudden, everything was shuttered into fragments of memories of nocturnal nightmares and disrupted relics of elusive weariness in a moonless abyss.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
Tag: existential poetry
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Desolate Echoes
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A Veiled Sorrow
A veiled sorrow of lost hopes appeared on a doomed night,
When no more desires were ever granted.
Longings and regrets missed their chance for retrieval,
And a symphony of echoes hauntingly resided in the stillness of despair.Long before the stars lost their nightly glow,
And the moon witnessed tales of woe,
Sorrowful contemplations perturbed a timeless elation,
Whilst emotions defied every explanation.Magnificent anguish lingered in the silent air,
Nightmares burdened lost loves and hopes with passion.
Whispers of nostalgia haunted concealed griefs,
Somber and forsaken dreams faded into the infinite darkness.Once no more desires were granted, the hourglasses were inverted,
Time’s sighs were relentless, and dreams diverted.
Yet, within the echoes of melancholy and resignation,
Resilient laments emerged, immovable and mighty.In the silent labyrinths of time’s ceaseless flow,
Long before echoes of forgotten blisses,
A firmament of enchanted mysteries quietly unraveled,
Revealing the ethereal beauty sealed within the stillness of twilight.Within the fragile fate of doomed desires,
Frailty clung to every fleeting instance.
Wishes dissolved like whispers in the vast universe,
Fragments of longings lingered like stardust in the vast void.No more bestowed yearnings were granted beneath cloudless skies,
And a relentless cynicism overwhelmed boundless fleeting fantasies,
Leaving behind a desolate landscape where aspirations withered in the arid winds,
Casting shadows over relics of endeavors.Long before stars lost their shining gleam,
And dreams vanished like sable castles,
The hope and destiny wove intricate mazes,
A requiem for aspirations mourned the unrealized dreams.Decay and folly dwelled in the emptiness of the aether,
Where shadows waltzed amidst the void,
And secrets of foolish chances found solace,
As a consequence of whims and caprices.An everlasting flame burned every devotion to ashes,
Leaving behind fragments of fervor turned to dust.
A spectral sonnet of allegiance was now ash in the breeze,
And a love’s anthem was silenced, lost in the rustle of leaves.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
Like A Porcelain Doll
Like A Porcelain Doll
And it was like in a nightmare
While I was lying inert on a cold bed like a porcelain doll
I could not conceive why those things happened for a reason
Maybe I was too naive to realise such closeness
Perhaps I was too childish to protect myself
Letting the submission paralyse my mind
It never mattered who I really was
It never mattered what I really desired
Because the most important thing was social etiquette and fulfilled other’s desires
I had to embellish myself like a porcelain doll
I had to smile with my elegant dresses and impeccable makeup devotedly
Some pretty bow in my long blond hair and a sumptuous dress as a daily routineI was empty, and I could not find myself
Being constantly busy to be submissive and amiable
Exhausted and broken
I was never good enough
And then, I had to lose myself
Becoming who I was expected to be
The echo of my silence was loud in my mind
The only place where I was feeling safe
Respect and love were remote chimaeras
The coldness around me was freezing my heart
My feelings being trapped in a desperate endeavour to be loved
And trying to piece together scattered fragments of myself.
Esther Racah
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I Don’t Like Writing
I Don’t Like Writing
I don’t like writing
Nevertheless, it is an unavoidable activity for me, such as breathing
As long as silence talks to me, many impressions crowd into my mind
Often I stay idle, wondering about random ideas
But I am not able to rationalise all that is inscrutable
It is as time shows me life in pictures
Like a collection of many old miniature paintings
Some of them are blurred
And others are very unambiguous
All those words of mine give only sporadic impressions about myself
All those poems of mine are only fragments of me
My poetry is accessible for everyone to read
My poetry is not trapped in a book
My poetry is absolutely a wild living thing that breaths
Hence, I chose the freedom to express myself straightforwardly.
Esther Racah
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My Words
My Words
There are not enough words in the dictionary
To describe all my emotions and mindsets
Most of the time, silence is the way I express myself
And I stay idle like a dead leaf floating on the smooth watery surface of a lake
Memories, good and bad ones, drag me into a timeless place, which is all mine
And where I can stay until my consciousness brings me back to reality
I will always question myself over and over
Wondering if it is worth sharing my feelings
And pondering whether unknown strangers will understand my thoughts
Sometimes I am afraid of revealing too much about myself
Nevertheless, my words are the only things that remain of me.
Esther Racah
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The Apotheosis Of My Illusions
The Apotheosis Of My Illusions
The apotheosis of my illusions
When I pretend to conform to absurd customs
Laying in an algid iron cage while I dream of freedom
Trying to protect the essence of myself
I cling to my excessive determination
And once I release my scream of despair
I become an ethereal creature
Surrounded by glistening stars
Gracefully I embrace my griefs
Since I am made of my own dreams and anguishes
Silently I compose my chant of foolishness
Letting the oblivion fooling me
Forgetting about who I am
I become aware that eternity strokes my soul
As I detach from the material finiteness
All my senses melt like snowflakes
As soon as I become part of the sublime
Unwinding my dreams and avoiding all the chains
I attempt to disentangle myself from my illusions.
Esther Racah