Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: forgotten dreams

  • Extraordinary Phantasmagorias

    Extraordinary Phantasmagorias

    Extraordinary phantasmagorias came to visit me in my dreams
    In the realm of marvel and delusion
    Where everything was possible
    I could finally find myself, pretending to be a fictitious apparition

    A sordid trepidation captured my attention
    Instead of enjoying the glowing light of my dreams
    I became a frail and ethereal soul submitted to a brutal destiny
    As in an ocean storm, I surrendered to the fury of an enraged chasm

    Slowly I sunk into the deep abyss of the infinite universe
    No matter how I could have strived to keep myself alive
    The abysm swallowed me, claiming me as a creature of his own
    Therefore, my sobs and cries could not rescue me

    My extraordinary phantasmagorias forsook me
    As I was not anymore a creature of their realm
    Indeed, I became a spirit of the tormented Stygian tenebrosity
    Where I was not so privileged to desire beauty and magnificence

    Nonsense was my only escapism
    Madness was my only way to endure such a startling world
    As if I wished to disguise my anguish under the impression of delirious mirth and illusory bliss
    After all, I preferred to foolish myself rather than embrace the cruel misery of reality

    Although I aimed to succeed in my perseverance and wisdom
    I have let my fatuity win and take over my mind and heart
    A captive of my own abyss, I wandered endlessly,
    Lulled by the whispers of my shattered illusions.

    Not even the wind of intemperance welcomed my weepings
    And yet no soul could hear my restless sorrows
    Time became a fantasy and an endless ritual
    As I drifted through the labyrinth of forgotten dreams

    All that survived was a remote hymn of defeated longings,
    Fading into the eternal night,
    While I dissolved into the silence of my own despair.
    Elisabetta

  • The Mansion of Anguish

    The Mansion of Anguish

    The mansion of anguish was filled with flowers of dread,
    Sighs echoed in each empty chamber like merry butterflies,
    The scent of betrayal penetrated every crevice of this eerie dwelling,
    As a consequence of broken vows and promises.

    The name of love has been desecrated, and love itself has been obliterated,
    In an extinguished fire, vestiges of mirth were lying,
    Buried underneath a stack of piles of ashes and blood,
    And the pain was carved on each stone.

    Hushed sobs created a fountain of dismay and grief,
    Where solitary souls had the habit of indulging secretly,
    Waiting for their lovers who were never supposed to come back,
    In a frolic of delusional hallucinations and cruel fate.

    In the middle of the night, farewell left their signs on the decayed walls and shattered mirrors,
    Leaving mere remembrances of broken hearts and aborted dreams,
    Beneath the obsessive moonlight, whose frantic light gleams stroke perpetually the dead flowers in the garden,
    While this realm of decay sparkled magnificently in all its darkness.

    Repetitive laments bloomed like blossoms of death,
    Since the mansion of anguish and sorrow emerged as a monument to decadence,
    And every star hid itself from the insistent stare of the moon’s pale and haunting gaze,
    Shadows of forsaken and lost lovers lingered, whispering fragments of unfulfilled desires and regrets into the hollow aura.

    Each murmur was enthralled by the walls that held infinite teardrops of agony,
    And every silent portrait, dimmed by epochs of neglect, seemed to weep silently in unison with the affliction around them.
    The desolate wind sighed through all the halls, shallowing the ruins of destroyed trinkets that once held sentimental bargains.
    The mansion of anguish became a despondent residence engulfed in an eternal night.
    It stood as a forgotten memorial to love’s betrayal and decay, where beauty had endlessly perished, leaving only a ghostly vestige in its haunted place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Anguish of the Night

    The Anguish of the Night

    The anguish of the night descended softly like a dreadful rain,
    On the valley of solitude and decay where doom held its domain.

    Wonders and death were all there waiting for the definitive end,
    While the stars grieved for aborted dreams that were never meant to be.

    Trust was fractured into thousands of fragments,
    Like a broken mirror in the middle of a dark chamber.

    The disclosed longings of a life already gone were kept secret,
    Inside a treasure chest in the abyss of the dream world.

    Feelings of melancholy and sorrow overwhelmed the frozen midnight,
    Transforming into a gloomy haze, making trembling every blossom.

    In every secret garden of roses, the only light allowed to penetrate was the moonlight,
    At the dreary sound of ghosts swirling in an eerie dance.

    Faraway from the brutal reality, the stars gleamed an invisible pale blue light,
    In a firmament crowded with clouds and nightmares.

    Longings and clouds entangled like tales of forgotten despair,
    Cherished treasures vanished into the gloomy and tranquil aura.

    Everything was trapped in the grasp of the midnight’s wintry clasp,
    While spectres lingered, haunting memories no dawn could ever have obliterated.

    In the hollow abyss of the misty vale, ancient trees wept alone,
    Their gnarled branches twisted like distress cast in weathered stone.

    The winds bore laments, carrying enigmas from times of oblivion,
    Each note became a mourning hymn, a dirge too exquisite to last.

    An owl hooted softly from a distant, forsaken tower,
    Its cry was a reminder of life’s fleeting, fragile power.

    Every petal quivered under the weight of forfeited hopes and fears,
    Dripping with the morning dew that consorted with unseen tears.

    Beneath this grave night’s sorrowful veil, even phantoms wept,
    While faded spirits drifted, tethered to dreams they could not abide
    Under the spell of the anguish of the night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Waiting For The Abyss

    Waiting For The Abyss

    Waiting for the abyss to consume me completely,
    Until the end of the universe,
    When time will no longer exist, and stars will fade into oblivion,
    Wandering through silent darkness, unseen, unheard, until the very last day of existence.

    Counting the infinite instants in the cold embrace of an eternal nothingness,
    Forgetting dreams and desires lingering in the ethereal realm of chimaeras,
    Hushed secrets echo in the void,
    As I fall deeper into the abyss.

    No light to guide a route through the labyrinth of fear and obliteration,
    Only darkness and solitude are the loyal companions,
    As the universe crumbles, fading away into obliviousness.

    Memories dissolve like dust,
    Ephemeral and fleeting, they vanish,
    Ghosts in the cosmic abyss waiting for the universe to end.

    A void seeking for fragments of forgotten lives,
    Specs of despair and whispers of sorrow,
    The remnants of worlds lost to the tides of time,
    Each moment subsists as a reminder of the transience of existence.

    The abyss extends endlessly, a chasm infinite,
    A silence so loud to swallow every thought,
    Hope is a distant memory, a faint glimmer in the shadow of despair,
    Nonetheless, in the deepness of darkness, there is no delight or joy to discover.

    Stars, once bright guidances in the night sky,
    Oftentimes, they flicker weakly with a light quenched by the encroaching void,
    I imagine wandering through the ruins of the universe,
    A solitary traveller in an endless night.

    A cold and hollow expanse embraces me like a shroud of eternal night,
    It reveals tales of forgotten epochs,
    Of realms that flourished and perished,
    Leaving behind only gloom and death.

    The abyss is just a mirror, reflecting the ephemeral nature of existence,
    A reminder that even the stars are not immortal,
    That everything perishes and fades away,
    Leaving behind only infinite darkness in the void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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 Shattered Mirror

    The Shattered Mirror

    The shattered mirror reflected in a room where shadows blended,
    A mirror that was laid with cracks that had torn,
    Its fractured glass reflected the gloom,
    The sorrows of an empty and desolate room.

    Each shard had been a fragment of despair,
    A thousand eyes that had never stared,
    Their stories had been lost in time’s cruel twist,
    A reflection of what had been missed.

    The gelid air pressed, tight and thin,
    As if the night itself might spin,
    The glass trembled, cracked, and shrieked,
    A haunting of forgotten lies.

    Mystery had been seen within the shards so frail,
    Where ghosts of dreams had not sailed,
    A broken past, a fractured sight,
    In a mirror that showed secrets that had been true.

    The shattered mirror shimmered with a ghostly light,
    Reflecting sinister shadows in the night,
    Each fragment held a glimpse of disdain,
    A shattered tale that would not remain.

    The room was filled with spectral sighs,
    As the mirror’s shards revealed betrayal,
    The dreams that had shattered long ago,
    In that room where sorrow had grown.

    The darkness wrapped around the glass,
    A ghostly shroud as moments had passed,
    In the mirror’s fractured face,
    Lay a haunted, desolate space.

    The room grew colder, steeped in the past,
    Where whispers of anguish were cast,
    Each piece of glass held a mournful tune,
    A requiem for a forsaken moon.

    Through the fractures, shadows wept,
    Silent sorrows forever kept,
    The reflection of what once was clear,
    Now lost in a realm of devilish fear.

    Time’s passage had left a mark so deep,
    Where phantoms of memories had silently crept,
    The mirror’s shards, each one steeped in regret,
    Had borne witness to the dreams unmet.

    In the stillness, where echoes had wailed,
    A tale of sorrow, a ghostly veil,
    And as the night had taken its final breath,
    The mirror’s silence had spoken of death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Winter Gardens

    Winter Gardens

    Winter gardens of lost memories,
    Where frost clung to the withered roses,
    Silent whispers through the twisted trees,
    In the hush where the cold wind blew.

    Echoes of reveries, now long gone,
    Stirred the barren, shadowed soil,
    Time’s breath on the frost, a muted melody,
    In the quiet where the past was never to be found.

    Underneath the snow, the secrets lay,
    Frozen dreams in a spectral light,
    The ghosts of moments that drifted and sighed,
    In the garden’s mournful, endless night.

    Winter gardens of lost hopes,
    Where every snowflake was a wistful tear,
    Remnants of bliss in the icy breeze,
    Softly faded through the years.

    Beneath the ice, the earth still wept,
    As the sun dipped low in the sky,
    Shadows lingered where the sorrow seeped,
    And the past’s faint relics silently faded.

    Each hidden path led to a mysterious tale,
    In the stillness, secrets panted,
    Time wove its web with a delicate veil,
    Of forgotten dreams, it concealed beneath.

    In the twilight’s chill, the spectres played,
    Danced through the frost’s embrace,
    Guardians of memories lost and invisible,
    In the garden’s cold, silent space.

    Winter gardens of lost memories,
    Timeless realms where shadows blended,
    Preserved fragments of their reveries,
    Until the thaw brought them to an end.

    Whispering groves of forgotten tales,
    Where instants of time slowly blended,
    In the still of the night, underneath ghastly trees,
    Lost longings from the past died away.

    Frozen branches cradled dreams unspoken,
    In their grasp, a fragile repose,
    Silence infused new life into dreams once broken,
    Where every frost-bitten memory bloomed.

    Amidst the snow’s cold, delicate lace,
    Phantoms of old hopes softly trod,
    In the garden’s frost-kissed, sacred space,
    Lay the eternal quiet of what was said.

    Winter gardens of lost memories,
    Guardians of time’s elusive grace,
    Held the past in its frozen seas,
    Till the thaw unveiled their hidden place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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