Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: fantasy

  • Random Thoughts

    Random Thoughts

    Random thoughts and memories hit me like thunders
    And my fears grasp me with their claws
    Feeling dizzy and unconscious
    I cannot control my descent into doom and decay

    More confused than ever
    I try to understand the unreasonable reasons of the fate
    Disappointments and merriments entwine in my heart
    And I can only cry and scream at the sky
    Where the stars and moon seem careless to my pains

    My future destiny is obscure and uncertain
    The unknown is my senseless fate
    Rage and regret take me to their dungeon
    Striving to forget my past is not my strength

    Words flow in my mind as well as emotions flow inside my heart
    Truth and lies are fused together, and reality becomes just an illusion
    Illusions and dreams became my reality
    Where I can have a safe haven all for me

    Walking alone in the darkness among strangers
    I feel like I am not really human but a creature belonging to another realm
    A realm of fantasy and chimaeras where everything is beautiful and sublime
    And no fear is necessary to survive

    Having always felt like an outsider and a weird person all my lifelong
    I always preferred to stay in silence and avoid too much noise
    I never loved social gatherings with self-introductions and explanations
    I’ve never felt understood or seen inside as I really am

    Hiding in the dark shadows of the night has been my best choice
    Hiding from everyone and everything
    A nocturnal creature as I am
    I love concealing myself
    Fleeting into the realm of phantasmagoria

    I am made of whispers and delusions
    I am made of strength and weakness
    I am made of love and hate
    I am made of stardust and dust of decay

    Random thoughts chase me everywhere I go
    They hunt me fiercely and I cannot flee from them
    Stars seem to fall over me
    Hitting and piercing my heart.
    Elisabetta

  • An Enchanting Spell

    An Enchanting Spell

    An enchanting spell is waiting for me in the realm of my dreams
    Where my beloved is always with me
    To be forever with him

    Missing him constantly as much as a flower misses its sun
    And the only thing that remains are just memories
    Sweet remembrances of him

    If you could feel my love for you
    If you only could imagine that I have you always in my heart
    If you could be close to me now

    You disappeared and I don’t see you anymore
    I see you only in my dreams
    Where you are forever with me

    So I’m writing this poem for you
    For you only, who probably never will read it
    As a song of my love and devotion for you

    Sometimes I wonder if we meet someone by chance or a reason
    And overthinking all over again I can see all my life in front of me
    I realise that I’ve lived several lives

    Nothing is lost that is not meant to be lost
    It seemed that fate decides everything in the end
    I feel a sense of abandonment and surrendering, giving up every control of my heart

    And I live upstairs
    I live on the roof as I told you in my dreams
    Because I love to touch the sky and the clouds
    Because I love to touch the stars and the darkness of the night

    An enchanting spell has power over me
    A bewitching spell that you cast on me
    Magic is invisible only to those who underestimate it

    And so I live in the shadows when you are not there
    Waiting for your light to illuminate my life
    Like a magnificent and sublime shining star
    Because you represent my entire universe

    I cannot stop fantasising about you as a foolish girl
    I cannot stop thinking about you since my heart belongs only to you
    Indeed, you are my wonderful dream and enchanting delight.
    Elisabetta

  • I Mystify My Tragedy

    I Mystify My Tragedy

    I mystify my tragedy into my poetry
    I become words and ethereal thoughts
    Delusion is my name since I live of illusions
    While the frozen truth manifests through a stormy wind

    Faraway but not too much, there is my desire
    The object of my obsession and passion
    So close to me and yet a kind of distant
    Hope is my name since I live of wishes

    Call me a visionary and fool
    But my spirit belongs to a storm bounding me
    Like an invisible spiderweb in which I’m a captive
    Sad and lonely, desperate and disheartened

    So I’m writing my poem of self-introspection
    Ready to fall down from a cliff of dreams
    Until I reach the abyss of oblivion and emptiness
    To declare myself a non-living creature striving to exist

    I pretend to appear as a living person
    Not revealing my mighty fantasy and extravagance
    No one calls my name anymore
    Although everyone sees me

    Who can wonder what will be in the fate of the world
    A realm of corruption and confusion
    Where deception is served as the holy truth
    And wisdom under the shape of violence

    I mystify my tragedy into my dreams
    Longings pierce me deeply
    Until I bleed my soul out
    Like an instantaneous rainstorm

    Invisible to everyone
    I wander in the night
    Where darkness and solitude are my solaces
    Probably envisioning everlasting love

    Sombre whispers become numbed sighs
    Nothing to cherish
    Nothing to forget
    Just instants of eternity lost in the infinite void

    Call me when you see me in your dreams
    Although you don’t know my name
    Having seen me as an apparition
    Soft is always the remembrance of you

    Sleeping as the slumber possesses me
    In its chaos and convulsions
    I feel nothing more than a gentle cry
    A cry to suppress my anguish and pang of love.
    Elisabetta

  • The Storm of Fire

    The Storm of Fire

    The storm of fire and water overcame the stillness of the night,
    Beneath a sky overcrowded with clouds and fire,
    A magnificent spectacle beyond every imagination,
    In the midst of the infinite emptiness.

    Darkness ruled this phantasmagorical realm of fantasy and reality,
    Where illusions and deception became the only reality,
    In a play of light and shadow beyond the visible world.

    Decadent longings blossomed like dead flowers,
    Waiting to be obliterated by the fallacious gleam of decayed stars,
    While every hope withered like smoke in the void,
    In the ephemeral realm of fleeting lusts and desires.

    Solitude and a melancholic nostalgia made sombre the sky,
    Where the moon wept silver tears upon the world of reality,
    Veiled by mantles of ash and forsaken sighs,
    lighting a requiem for dreams long buried.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Night Fantasy

    Night Fantasy

    A night fantasy discloses secrets and enigmas,
    In the darkness of the night,
    When dreams come true.
    Whenever the night falls,
    Longings appear as imperishable lights,
    Faraway from the world of squalid reality.

    Dead leaves fall on the soil made of lush,
    Wonders and splendour attend the display of a starry night.
    A night fantasy is like a monument to beauty and sublime,
    In which time and space no longer rule.

    In this fantastic realm, the roots of cruelty and egotism don’t feed any garden,
    Whose flowers and trees breathe freely the pure essence of love and amusement,
    And only the whispers of eternity remain.

    In this tranquil abode where shadows weave,
    An aura of myths that time can not reclaim,
    The moon’s pale glow caresses the earth,
    And dreams run away like ethereal birds,
    In a sky that knows no boundaries or despair.

    Within this haven, sorrow finds no place,
    Nor does the agony of unfulfilled desires,
    Since each moment is a crystal of delight,
    Caught in the silver web of night’s embrace.
    The gentle winds sing ancient lullabies,
    Stirring the clouds with soft and mystic grace.

    The night’s enchantment knows no end,
    As beauty’s spirit wanders through the dark,
    Disclosing the world’s secrets, sacred heart.
    Each star is a lantern of forgotten lore, Illuminating paths unseen by day’s harsh gaze.

    Beneath this spell, reality itself fades away,
    And only the truth of the night’s fantasy remains,
    Where every heartbeat resounds vanishes in the night’s silent harmony,
    And the dreams wander through obscure realms,
    Embracing the enchantment that forever belongs.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Garden of Nightmares

    The Garden of Nightmares

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    In the garden of nightmares, each petal whispered secrets, wrapped in shadows’ embrace,
    While the moonlight danced softly, casting dreams on the night sky,
    In this garden, silence sang, a melody bittersweet.

    Where the vibrant hues of joy clashed with sorrow’s deceit,
    The aura was loaded with nostalgia; each whisper was a haunting sigh,
    Dreamers wandered through the maze, drawn to what might lie.

    Beneath the surface of beauty, where the heartbeats echoed slowly,
    A realm of contrasts, light and dark, where both delight and anguish grew,
    Yet, amidst the splendour, a red flag lingered near.

    For the siren call of yearning masked the lurking fear,
    Every bloom bore witness to a soul’s forsaken plight,
    Trapped within a labyrinth, lost between day and night.

    In the garden of nightmares, some dared to linger, intoxicated by the view,
    Chasing visions of a paradise where fantasies come true,
    But the thorns they had ignored drew blood from tender dreams.

    And this orchard of phantoms revealed its silent screams,
    Thus, tread lightly in the dusk where wishes intertwine,
    For within that haunting beauty lies a truth so hard to find.

    The garden, a mirror reflecting one’s innermost desires,
    A sanctuary of longings still set ablaze with fire.
    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

  • The Magic Library

    The Magic Library

    The magic library stood in the midst of the forest,
    Where shadows converged and time seemed to merge.
    Books whispered secrets in the dim candlelight,
    Pages turned by themselves in the depth of the night.

    The shelves groaned with volumes bound in dark leather,
    Their titles were elusive, shifting like the weather.
    Silent phantoms glided silently by,
    Their hollow eyes gleamed, no longer alive.

    Each book was a portal to realms far and wide,
    To curses and blessings that destinies guided.
    A tome with gold letters “Fates Intertwined,”
    Its tale was too unsettling for the timid souls.

    A dusty old grimoire with a clasp rusted shut,
    Unlocked with a whisper, a soft, secret cut.
    It spoke of enchantments, of magic once pure,
    Twisted by darkness and shadows that lured.

    A wanderer ventured into this spectral lair,
    Drawn by the stories that whispered of despair.
    A book of forgotten lore was opened,
    And vanished at once, the mystery deepened.

    The magic library under the moonlight,
    A realm of dark and magic tales took flight.
    Wandering aisles, where shadows convened,
    Whispers of secrets in every scene.

    The allure of this magical place,
    Where stories entangled and time had no trace.
    The magic library was wondrous and dreadful,
    It was a portal to lands that spirits found delightful.

    Within its vast halls, secrets long lay,
    Hidden in tomes with covers of decay.
    A volume of prophecies, bound in red,
    Spoke of a future where all hopes were dead.

    Some shadow once dared to decipher its stones,
    Seeking the knowledge that within it shone.
    But the words twisted, morphed, and blurred,
    Until sanity was no longer assured.

    Those who strolled into the magic library went lost and confused,
    By the magic and curses, the volumes were infused.
    Its whispers joined a spectral refrain,
    A cautionary tale of knowledge and pain.

    The magic library with its obscure corners, where shadows loomed thick,
    And ghosts lingered, bound by fate’s cruel trick.
    They sought wisdom, power, and truth,
    But found only madness trapped in their booth.

    The candles flickered, casting an eerie glow,
    On the grimace of those who no longer could show,
    Whether they lived or simply existed,
    In the magic library’s grasp, where time persisted.

    Brave adventurers with hearts full of fire,
    Accessed the spellbinding vault, led by desire.
    They sought out a legend, a tale of gold,
    Of riches and treasures, of secrets untold.

    They opened a chest with arcane symbols,
    Unleashed a force, they could not refrain.
    The shadows engulfed them, wrapped them tight,
    Leaving behind sighs in the pale moonlight.

    The forest grew still, the library suspended,
    Content with the stories of those who had strived.
    For in its dark heart, it harboured a truth:
    Knowledge is power, but often aloof.

    The magic library of days long past,
    Where ghouls were forever cast.
    For the magic it held was both wondrous and dire,
    A balance of wisdom and consuming fire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Concealed Dreams

    Concealed Dreams

    Concealed dreams,
    Fly through the night,
    Hidden in shadows,
    Beyond the reach of light.

    Beneath the surface,
    They quietly glow,
    Awaiting their moment,
    A chance to vanish.

    In secret labyrinths,
    Where fantasy resides,
    They bide their time,
    And silently glide.

    In the night realm,
    They softly tread,
    Planting seeds,
    In the fearless imagination.

    Concealed dreams,
    Yearn to be free,
    To break the chains,
    And sail the sea.

    With dawn’s first light,
    They start to rise,
    Unfolding their wings,
    To kiss the skies.

    No longer hidden,
    Their voices whisper,
    Transforming the world,
    With the joy they bring.

    Concealed dreams,
    Under starlit skies,
    Woven in sighs,
    Where the quiet lies.

    They dance in twilight,
    Where wishes are spun,
    In the deep of night,
    Away from the sun.

    These dreams are sacred,
    Held close and dear,
    Unseen by many,
    But ever so clear.

    In the stillness,
    They softly bloom,
    Casting away,
    The shadows of gloom.

    Silent and patient,
    They gather might,
    Awaiting the dawn,
    To embrace the light.

    With each longing,
    They gain their form,
    Defying the tempest,
    Braving the storm.

    Concealed dreams,
    find their voice,
    singing of bliss,
    and the power of loss.

    No longer subjugated,
    They find their might,
    Painting the heavens,
    With colours so bright.

    From the abyss,
    They rise and gleam,
    Shaping the infinite,
    From a silent desire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Shadow Realm

    The Shadow Realm

    The shadow realm, in the depths of night, where shadows roamed free,
    A realm of darkness, a place unknown.
    Beneath the veil of the starless sky,
    Whispers of secrets lingered, never to die.

    Through the misty shroud of the moon’s soft glow,
    Lay a land where time moved slowly.
    Where sighs echoed on the edge of sight,
    And the line between reality and dream faded away.

    In the heart of this realm, where darkness dwelled,
    Ghosts of forgotten tales wove their spells.
    While spectres glided on silent feet,
    And the echoes of lost phantoms met.

    The stars beware of daring fate,
    In the realm where shadows ruled, and fear was fed.
    For the shadows held conspiracies, deep and dark,
    And the dreams that meandered might never find their spark.

    But should the infinite have dared the obscurity to embrace,
    And journeyed forth with a steady pace,
    Perhaps the illusion glimpsed the truth untold,
    In the domain where shadows held sway, all mysteries unfurled.

    Beyond the realm of mortal sight,
    Where darkness reigned, and fears soared away,
    Lay a domain of anguish and woe,
    Where the eternity of solitude stretched endlessly.

    In the shadow realm, where time froze,
    Memories of the past haunted every haven,
    The dreads became palpable, like heavy stillness,
    And nightmares lingered, casting a pall.

    Through twisted labyrinths and twisted tendrils,
    The shadows wove their intricate patterns,
    A tapestry of gloom and despair,
    Where every desire might find itself consumed by doom.

    Amidst the abyssal darkness, a glimmer of flames,
    As frail hope in the darkest night.
    For within the dimness lurked the arcane of the invisible,
    An enigma wrapped in the shroud of shadows.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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