Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: garden

  • Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy of the withered roses was one of the hymns carved on my book of dreams
    Every time I opened it to flee the reality around me, I found myself in another world
    A realm of solace and delight but also with dreadful and disquieting hues
    Confused and dazzled, I began to proceed on my walk to the fountain of knowledge
    The more I wanted to know, the more I was convinced to know less

    My struggle to understand the mystery beyond a legend so dear to me was overwhelmed by the fear of oblivion
    As soon as I desired to open the books, decay trapped me in a state of affliction
    And nightmares hunted me like prey, wherever I was, in the garden of desolation
    What I’ve never seen before appeared in the mirror of my fate
    The truth hurt me like a dagger inside my bleeding heart

    The doom of desolation and solitude tainted every delight of mine
    Although I was fleeing the reality, I couldn’t find any haven where to rest in peace
    Sombre clouds overcrowded the night sky, obliterating all the stars
    And the moon emerged immense in her startling splendour
    As she was chanting the elegy of the withered roses

    I couldn’t understand if the shrieks I was hearing were groans of mockery or laments of sorrow
    All I could see was shadows embedded in the roots of dead trees
    Twisting like tortured souls in the abyss of perpetual despair
    Because after all, every dream of mine was a nightmare In the luminous hush of night
    Since my heart was just an imperfect relic of impetuous storms

    Nothing more could have been mended
    The rift between the realm of nightmares and longings had outgrown
    My castle of hopes and illusions had crumbled to pieces
    Its towers dissolved into mist, and its gates were devoured by stillness
    I stood in my loneliness surrounded by the debris and clutching dreams that were turned to dust
    As if sorrow itself had rewritten the fabric of my heart.
    Elisabetta

  • Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I imagine being an ethereal fairy in my realm of dreams
    Where no creature could ever perturb my heart
    And I could cry out my soul

    Invane becomes my attempt to remain wise and sane
    Insanity and madness are my new names
    I forget my essence to transform into another myself
    And in this metamorphosis, I’m the ruler of my own kingdom

    Silence is my new favourite language
    I can touch flowers of emotions whose scent bewitches me
    I’m under the enchanting spell that I’ve cast upon myself
    I’m a turmoil of love and death, and no storm can prevent me from my intentions

    Quietude is my favourite to express myself
    I stare at my several reflections in the mirror of disquietude
    And I hide behind the magnificence of my exquisite garden of dreams
    Where I can fantasize about all my envisioned hallucinations

    Because I adore soaking in the fountain of everlasting passions
    As my limitless yearnings for decadence and dissolute emptiness increase at night
    During my delightful slumber
    When I’m betrayed by my own delusions

    Lying in my garden of lush and mesmerizing flowers
    I forget my name and my essence
    And I don’t feel any fear or concern about my fate
    Because I belong to the darkness and oblivion

    The eternal night with starred skies belongs to me
    I become an odd fairy floating freely among her flowers of decay
    I identify myself with decadence and extreme love
    Because I’m insane and a storm of passions

    Melancholy and sadness are my steady companions
    From which I can never separate myself
    And all my blooming flowers wither and fade away
    As soon as I weep for my long-lost innocence

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I forget myself and I’m left bewildered
    Intoxicated with the poison of my own desires
    Lost in the turmoil of my madness and decadence.
    Elisabetta

  • Torments Are My Delight

    Torments Are My Delight

    Torments are my delight and bliss
    I love to feel a pang piercing my heart
    I love to pine for love devotionally
    I live only in my dreams like a fairy
    Flying lightly from one flower to another one

    I’m an ethereal creature belonging to phantasmagorias
    I’m a little spirit of the night
    My heart is avid of passions and desires
    In my secret garden of lush and extravagance
    Torments are my solace and mirth

    My fate is a turmoil of unknown chaos
    Not paying attention to my fears
    I live carelessly as every day is my last day
    My senses are intoxicated by the scent of extravagant flowers
    And let my body surrender to lust in my haven of lush

    I wear an exquisite and magnificent gown made of tragedy
    My ethereal wings carry me everywhere I wish
    In sadness, I find refuge under the shadows of ancient trees
    In joy, I relish pursuing my dreams of oddities
    Safety is not my favourite word in the dictionary because I adore nightmares

    Every night, I crave to be consumed by the passion of my darkest fantasies
    In the darkness, I burn with the desire to be pierced by agony
    Gloomy shadows whisper my name, enticing me closer
    As I feel an ecstatic pain, I hesitate to surrender
    I’m so lost in the euphoria of torment’s kiss

    Each sigh of mine is like a melody of forbidden delights
    When pleasure and pain entwine in an endless embrace
    I welcome the darkness as its touches are so exquisite and deep
    I become a creature made of fire and fiery lust
    A blaze burns my heart at every stroke

    Every kiss carves a searing scar of longing on my skin
    As a reminder of the desires consuming me whole
    And in the flames, I’m reborn like a blooming blossom
    Torments are my delight and I surrender to the sweet agony of my lusts.
    Elisabetta

  • The Garden of Sighs

    The Garden of Sighs

    The garden of sighs was a lush secret alcove where, for each sigh, a blossom bloomed in all its exquisite beauty.
    It was a realm of lost dreams and decayed love, with the sweetest scent of death and darkness swallowing every colour.
    The only light that could penetrate such an abyss of nightmares was the faded glimmer of stardust.

    Fears and teardrops adorned the withering petals magnificently; each droplet was a crystallised fragment of sorrow glistening like fallen stars caught in a web of despair. Glooms and touches of melancholy weaved themselves like visions through the tangled vines, curling around each bud as if to protect the enigmas buried in the bleeding soil nourished by the vestiges of forsaken love.

    All the flowers were soaked with desire and lust; their delicate and fragile fragrant petals were trembling under the weight of an ethereal woe. Each blossom seemed to sigh as though haunted, exhaling moans of lost love and regrets into the murky atmosphere. They clung to the bleeding soil, rooted in sorrow and cherished by the very tears that had moistened them.

    The garden of sighs became a lush realm of lust and decay, where the ephemeral sound of sobs of torment entangled with howls of anguish. The carved and darkened trees were hollow havens for eerie wraiths, keeping the arcane secrets of this metaphysical niche, which no wanderer could ever have visited.

    For eternity, this mysterious alcove remained untouched, a forbidden sanctuary beyond the reach of mortal gazes and meddling hearts. And so, the garden of sighs existed—eternal, unseen, a realm untouched by starlight. It lay concealed within the shroud of night, where beauty mingled with the decay of despair.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Withered Rose

    The Withered Rose

    In the garden’s heart, the withered rose once stood weak,
    Petals kissed by the sun, no longer adorned in velvet shroud.
    With each dawn’s deadly whispers, her colours ceased to bloom,
    Once a vibrant display that dispelled all gloom.

    Her delight rang clear in the soft morning light,
    As bees danced around her, a joyful delight.
    Her fragrance enchanted, weaving spells in the air,
    Every passerby paused, captivated and rare.

    But time, that cruel thief with merciless claws,
    Brought storms and droughts, testing all who could withstand them.
    Now the withered rose droops in silence, colours bled,
    Each crumbling petal was a monument to the dead.

    Once an enchanting wonder, alive and bold,
    Now, she cradles shadows where memories unfold.
    Each petal and leaf that fell softly told tales of the past,
    Of love unfulfilled and moments that couldn’t last.

    Her roots stretched deep, clinging to what once was,
    And even in fading, there’s beauty because
    In her withered form, a tale still to disclose,
    Of passion and sorrow, of boldness and woes.

    In the twilight, where silence now reigns,
    The withered rose stood alone, succumbing to grief’s sweet pains.
    A vestige of devotion, of dreams twisted tight,
    In the heart of decay, the past was enshrined.

    And as the seasons turned with a gentle caress,
    The rose revealed to the wind her distress,
    For in every ending, there lies a new beginning,
    In withering petals, the magic found its art.

    Dreams collided with the weight of the night,
    Each heartbeat a spell, flickers of light and dark,
    In twilight’s grasp, her memories ignited like flames,
    Fleeting shadows of instants lost to the night.

    Beneath the dark sky, silence twisted and bent,
    The withered rose waited, where sorrow descended.
    Each sigh became a lament, each desire a still end.
    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

  • An Ephemeral Life

    An Ephemeral Life

    An ephemeral life had endured the shadows of dread,
    In a garden where roses had once bloomed bright and red.
    Petals, once vivid in sunlight’s warm caress,
    Had withered and crumbled in spectral distress.

    The sun, harsh and unforgiving, had scorched each bloom,
    Turning vibrant splendour into a sombre tomb.
    Moonlight, pale and ghostly, draped the garden’s decay,
    Casting an eerie pallor where the flowers had lain.

    The breeze, once gentle, had grown sharp and cold,
    Whispered secrets of a beauty that death had told.
    In the stillness of twilight, where shadows had crept long,
    The garden lay haunted by a mournful song.

    An ephemeral life of once vibrant blooms, now ghostly and frail,
    Had bowed to the earth, and their colour had grown stale.
    Each flower, a relic of a fleeting moment,
    Had succumbed to darkness and the deafening silence.

    The fountain, now stagnant, held the murky remains
    Of water once clear, now a grave for the chains.
    Its ethereal music had turned into a low groan,
    A dirge for the blossoms that the grave had known.

    The moon’s cold light revealed a macabre scene,
    Where beauty had faded, leaving only the obscene.
    The garden, once alive with intense happiness,
    Had become a crypt in the embrace of night.

    An ephemeral life, in the stillness that lingered, where shadows sank into the abyss,
    The essence of life had yielded to dismiss.
    An evanescent existence, now lost to decay,
    Wandered through the garden where time had slipped away.

    The sculptures, once regal, had frozen in their dismay and despair,
    Silent custodians cloaked in the chill of the air.
    Their features, carved in stone, tattered an expression of anguish,
    Glimpses of the fading archaic dreams and praises.

    An archaic ivy, creeping with tendrils so dark,
    Had embraced the remains of a once glittering spark.
    In the garden’s hushed sighs, the past had seemed to cry,
    As the fleeting delight had faded beneath the sky.
    An ephemeral life of what could no longer be redeemed from the doom of death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Poisonous Embrace

    Poisonous Embrace

    Poisonous embrace in a garden’s darkened glade,
    Where shadows twisted and wove,
    While a serpent’s hiss slithered like a whispered kiss beneath the autumn’s rove.

    Among the blooms, so mysterious and colourful, a secret lay concealed,
    Like a venom so pure, in innocent petals’ core, whose true intent was never to be revealed.

    Flowers of darkness, with their colours vibrant and sweet scents, lured the trustful hearts,
    Although their veins were sources of a toxic strain of deadly spite and lust.
    The touch was so delicate, the caress like sunshine.

    Nevertheless, threat lay within,
    A fatal bite, a brisk delight, a kiss of death’s cruel grin.
    A fatal lingering in the garden’s heart, behind the ornate gate.

    Wanderers of wild greens sought the garden’s charm, enchanted by beauty’s glow,
    Oblivious, they strolled through the path where the poison’s roots did prosper.
    They plucked the flowers whose scent made them unconscious of their fate.

    The sun would die, the moon would arise, and clouds would become more bold,
    In the wicked night’s grasp, the garden’s face shifted from amiable to insensitive,
    For those ghouls who lingered spasmodically under the spell of the venom, the night offered no respite from their torment.

    The poisonous embrace turned into a love that vanished into bitter ashes like a burnt dream in the darkest despair.
    Through concealed secrets, enigmas of sorrow reached every futile heart that met death.
    Legends of defeated lovers and trust betrayed were like a poison descending from the sky.

    Magnificent flowers, once so full of life, were now symbols of deceit and destruction,
    Their decay was a reminder of the hidden collapse beneath their beauty.
    Years departed, the garden’s tale, just a legend to be remembered.

    Delusions masked in vanity’s guise turned hearts into hard and cold stones.
    The blooms still flourished, the fragrances sweet, yet none ever dared tread that soil,
    For each leaf contained a toxic grief, a lethal truth.

    The fantastic tale of blossoms’ fair allure,
    Unveiled a bloom where toxic doom endured—
    A fate that’s dark, impure.
    In every leaf, a tale of grief, a story of despair,
    A poisonous embrace awaited those who wandered there.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Realms Of Imagination

    The Realms Of Imagination

    The realms of imagination in the silence
    I had no trace of the visions that I had dreamed
    And listened to them once day and night
    Fountains and planets floated into the nothingness
    Like many thoughts that seem so knowledgeable
    Stars in words, flowers in my hair
    In the depths of everything, into the ocean and waters
    The realm of the universe
    As clouds rain into dusk
    Looking at the storm in light and darkness

    The realms of imagination in the stillness
    It is almost like a dream gleaming in my memories
    Once again, darkness will bring no shadow
    On the rivers and waters that are clear
    When the ocean rises to the sky like storm mountains with happiness, sorrow and bliss
    The mystery of existence is as deep as its own secrets
    Touching the surface of all that was written
    My dreams are to stay
    And thinking of that perfect place
    A world of wonders where boundaries and bonds dissolve

    The realms of imagination in the universe
    Time seems impossible to discover
    As I recall in my inner thoughts
    I become a part of everything, and nothing
    Dreams fly away beyond reality’s boundaries and fade from my sight
    A world of magnificence and bliss
    Where anything can be
    Unleashing creativity set my soul free
    Within the realms of imagination’s domain resides a universe where fantasies reign
    And whispered words dissolve in painted skies

    The realms of imagination
    Where magic can be real, and fantasy becomes an eternal seal
    In the realms of imagination, stories unfold, displaying a tapestry of new and old words
    A captivating imagination’s garden where dreams are cast
    A gateway to explore
    Where the mind’s eye opens, unlocking every door
    A canvas for ideas, limitless and vast
    Within the realms of imagination, worlds collide
    Where ordinary thoughts become magical thrills
    And mazes of flower meadows that shine like sparkling water surface

    The realms of imagination and oddities
    Where dreams come alive
    An imagination’s haven where creativity and hopes thrive
    Wherein the expected transforms and magic comes to be alive
    A realm of marvel where ideas shine brightly, dreams reside and hearts are inspired
    In the realms of fantasy, the reality is blurred
    A world of beliefs and illusion, where dreams are swirled
    Where imagination’s spark ignites my soul and creativity makes me whole
    Thoughts intertwine, creating an intricacy of divine ideas
    Like clouds of fire that disappear

    The realms of imagination and inspiration
    Where tales are created and forever adorned
    The mind explores new worlds by day and night
    A realm of endless wonders, where dreams come true and always renew
    Where visions unfold, and stories are written in undefined verses
    New landscapes emerge from a labyrinth of thoughts
    Unfolding like secrets hidden in ethereal books
    Mountains of fantasy blow the sky
    In these realms, the ordinary evolves into extraordinary
    Where colours are vibrant, and everything turns visionary

    The realms of imagination
    Where the unimaginable flourishes
    And the impossible becomes a tangible reality
    As daydream proms with boundless skill
    The stars and galaxies seem within reach
    Navigating through this enchanting world with no bounds or restraints
    For in these realms, I am the architect of my dreams
    Where the extraordinary becomes the ordinary
    So I let myself embrace this magical domain
    And let my imagination forever reign.
    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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