Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: ghosts

  • Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped by my dreams, I was living exclusively in my eternal slumber
    From which I could not be awakened anymore
    Enchanting siren melodies and terrifying cries bewitched my heart
    The perpetual candles burning close to my bedside had the scent of deception

    I was no longer frightened by life and society
    I felt like the most free and ethereal creature in the universe
    And I ventured to remote islands of phantasmagoria
    Thunders of insanity crashed through my heart

    It seemed that everything was shaking, and a roar erupted
    A fierce and wild cry shattered the stillness of my fantasy
    The sky split open with flashes of burning glare
    As if the universe itself was coercing me to succumb to its chaotic will

    The destruction began its monumental obliteration of all my desires
    I could not cry or scream, for I had become silent
    I was like a hollow vessel lost in its fate while caught in a storm’s violent embrace
    My heart, which once burned with ardent passion, was now a feeble flame twinkling like a dying blaze

    I found myself wandering in the graveyard of my dreams
    My heart was bleeding for all the anguish and grief that filled it
    I got lost among the fragments of my shattered illusions
    While hovering through the ruins of my beliefs and loves

    I remained besieged by the ghosts of my fears in the company of bleeding roses
    I had lost all my beloved treasures, and all that remained to me was just dust of decay
    Condemned to be devoured by the infinite nothingness
    I could not see any of my hallucinations

    I could not hear any of the enchanting whispers that the wind used to bring to me as a messenger
    Forced to be enslaved to death and obliteration
    I was no longer trapped by my dreams
    And I dwelled in an unending state of sorrow.
    Elisabetta

  • The Twilight of Ruin

    The Twilight of Ruin

    The twilight of ruin decayed among shadows
    A magnificent graveyard of dreams and desires
    I had to die many times in order to live again
    Terrifying statues were starring to me
    Their eyes made of thorns carved sorrow on my face
    They were the guardians I had buried inside my heart

    The dry tree branches were sharp claws trying to clasp me
    Their elongated roots reached my gown
    Dragging me impetuously towards the secret underworld
    As if death reclaimed me as its precious possession
    And that stillness so soft and pale was a spell for my final demise
    I knew immediately that I was languidly dying

    I was a belonging of the realm of death
    An eternal flame of doom burned inside my heart
    I became an immortal creature of darkness
    A dark fairy flying over the garden of withered roses
    No passions could be reanimated since they faded away
    Blue and grey hues of melancholy tinted my dress

    I felt a fabulous and decadent flower of the night
    I lived an existence of perpetual night and decay
    I loved my seclusion and loneliness beneath a gloomy and cloud sky
    Shadows and ghosts were my loyal companions
    The blades of the rose thorns made me bleed,
    kissing my lips
    The exquisite scent of coffins lingered in the gloom

    I was free and ethereal, like the crimson petal of a rose
    I was not anymore afraid to lose everything once was my belongings
    I was dead and bound to the eternal realm of nothingness
    Devoted and loyal to my grief and anguish, I was married to the dark, eternal hush
    The echoes of the dead alive clung to me like mourning veils
    And I danced, lost beneath the indifferent gaze of the moon at the twilight of ruin.
    Elisabetta

  • The Storm of Doom

    The Storm of Doom

    The storm of doom had begun to roar,
    A thunder rolled upon the moor.
    The skies had grown black, the winds unchained,
    As darkness drowned the earth in the rain.

    The lightning had cut a jagged seam,
    A fractured night, a shattered dream.
    It had struck the tower, ancient, grim,
    A tomb for those who dwelled within.

    The windows rattled in their frames,
    The hearth’s flame flickered and then proclaimed,
    Its dying gasp in choking ash,
    While echoes of the lost desires had crashed.

    The walls had wept mould, the ceiling cracked,
    As shadows crawled from ancient tracks.
    Their forms were vague, their voices cried,
    A haunting wail that never died.

    Beneath the storm of doom, despair ruled in all its might,
    Devouring everything in endless nights.
    Its fury had fed on grief and dread,
    And sought the hearts of those misled.

    The ocean had churned in wrath below,
    As wretched waves crashed to and fro.
    The cliffs had eroded, the earth had given way,
    And night consumed the light of day.

    When silence fell and the wind subsided,
    The storm of doom retreated, but death abided.
    Its final sigh had been a chilling hymn,
    For those who had met their fate within.

    In the abyss where shadows and darkness crept,
    Arcane secrets awakened, and the lost souls wept.
    A dance of phantoms, sorrow’s choir,
    Ignited the aura with ghostly fire.

    They whispered tales of what once had been,
    Of lovers lost and ancient scars.
    In every crack, in every sigh,
    The dreams lingered and never died.

    The storm might have faded, but memories clung,
    In haunted hearts, they twisted and sang.
    For as the tempest faded from sight,
    The boundless night consumed every fading light.

    Euphoric and lush senses were only mirages in the imagination of dreamers who fell into oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Tragic Fate

    A Tragic Fate

    A tragic fate ruled beneath a mournful autumn sky,
    A forsaken shade stood with a tearful eye,
    And a stare falling upon a distant stone,
    Where memories lay carved in bone.

    The winds had howled low; the trees had bent near,
    Whispers were carried, fraught with fear.
    A tragic fate, so cruelly spun,
    The story ended where it had begun.

    It was a gloomy tale of a life forever paused,
    A frail and fair existence swallowed by despair’s cruel snare.
    The wanderer watched as doom took its due,
    Helpless as its darkness grew.

    A wilted rose lay upon a grave,
    A token of a life once given.
    In nights that wept and days that knew despair,
    Absence haunted in hollow air.

    The earth was consumed, the coffin decayed,
    Life was reduced to memories soon forgotten.
    What solace could the grieving find,
    When death had left the world behind?

    The ravens summoned from their twisted trees,
    Evoked echoes lingered in the bitter breeze.
    Forgotten mortal fragments traced the path,
    To where the silent shadows did laugh.

    A chill resided in every gust of heft,
    Every sigh became a dirge that spoke of death.
    The sky hung heavy, draped in grey,
    As if mourning the world’s decay.

    In every shroud of mist that swirled,
    The darkness deepened, and silence curled.
    Beneath the ground, the roots entwined,
    To claim a body once divine.

    The clock ticked on, though spirits faded,
    Their murmurs were lost where graves were laid.
    And as the night unfolded its veil,
    The air grew thick with a mournful wail.

    Beneath the mournful autumn shade,
    Two souls rested, their debts repaid.
    The earth reclaimed its lost embrace,
    And time forgot each sorrowed face.

    In the gloom, an eerie glare burnt in all its might,
    It kept flickering dimly through the night.
    It wove between the gravestones’ gloom,
    A ghostly waltz, a dance of doom.

    At last, voices from the shadows called,
    They whispered tales of love’s great fall.
    The leaves rustled with each breath,
    Carrying echoes of untimely death.
    A tragic fate was inevitable for the eternity.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Spell of Death

    The Spell of Death

    The spell of death was cast beneath the shroud of twilight’s darkness,
    Like a poisonous ivy with tendrils creeping through the shadow’s gate,
    To bind the souls to a woeful and inexorable fate,
    While the night devoured hope, sealing every dreadful fate.

    The atmosphere was gloomy and tainted by whispers of despair,
    As spirits writhed in torment’s snare,
    Their cries were like distant thunder in the dimmed air.
    The cauldron’s brew did bubble and hiss,
    Unleashing doom with a ghostly kiss.

    In midnight’s chill, the spirits wept,
    For those ensnared in shadows kept,
    Their agony echoed through the hollow crypt,
    The ancient curse, a binding vow,
    Wrought in sorrow, sealed somehow.

    From crypts below, the dark arts arose,
    Enchanting mourners’ despondent like dead roses,
    And spreading dread like frost’s cruel fingers on a winter’s night.
    The moon looked on, a spectral glare,
    As death’s cold fingers filled the air.

    Once summoning words did invoke despair,
    A cauldron boiled in the witches’ lair.
    They chanted doom with a hollow tone,
    Their voices echoed like graveyard stone.

    The candles flickered, life faded pale,
    As shadows writhed and spirits wailed,
    While the flames danced wildly to the cursed wind’s breath.
    Through dust and ash, a chill descended,
    The curse persisted; it never ended.

    Bones rattled in the dampened earth,
    Their souls were condemned, with no hope for rebirth.
    A heart that pounded was not supposed to beat anymore,
    Entombed within death’s dreadful lore.

    Beneath the obscure veil of night’s caress,
    The darkness deepened, and horrors did press.
    The spell of death was cast; none could have been saved,
    For death has come, and silence craved.

    In this realm of delightful derealisation,
    Nightmares came true as real visions,
    Of ghosts and demons that danced with glee,
    Amid stormy winds of dark eternity.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Ghosts of the Forgotten

    The Ghosts of the Forgotten

    The ghosts of the forgotten wandered near,
    In twilight’s grasp, they did appear.
    Their forms were faint, like fading mist,
    And shadows clung where the light was kissed.

    Their whispers rose with night’s cold wreath,
    Echoes of life were now tinged with death.
    They lingered where the darkness fell,
    Between the world and some lost hell.

    Among the ruins, they found their place,
    Where time had left no single trace.
    The walls were cracked, the stones were bare,
    And sorrow hung upon the despair.

    The moon above, an eerie eye,
    Watched over where the spirits did sigh.
    Its silver light fell upon the ashen ground,
    Gave shape to those who made no sound.

    They drifted through the shattered halls,
    Where faded portraits lined the walls.
    Their eyes were empty, cold as stone,
    Forever trapped, forever alone.

    And in the corners, shadows grew,
    Where dreams decayed, and fear came into view.
    The ghosts would reach with hands of frost,
    Reminders of what once was lost.

    Their laments merged in mournful cries,
    A symphony of endless sighs.
    They sang of grief and silent dread,
    Of restless nights among the dead.

    Nevertheless, in their sorrow, there was grace,
    A haunting beauty in their face.
    For though they roamed in death’s embrace,
    Their longing time could not be erased.

    And as the night gave way to dawn,
    The ghosts of the forgotten were gone.
    They vanished with the morning’s stealth,
    Returning to their quiet and eternal death.

    But among the ruins, still and grey,
    Their presence lingers with the day.
    And all who wander through that place,
    Will feel the chill of their cold embrace.

    A last desire might have been exposed,
    That every whispered secret might remain undisclosed,
    Until the very end of the eternal darkness,
    Where time surrendered to a haunting stillness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Echoes of Solitude

    Echoes of Solitude

    The echoes of solitude lingered like ghosts,
    Each sigh was a reminder of what was permanently lost.
    In the chambers of silence, where memories faded,
    I traced the soft outlines of illusions that betrayed.

    Once passionate and secure, my heart knew no bounds,
    However, in the quiet, the many storms overwhelmed around.
    The walls whispered secrets of sorrow and pain,
    Recounting the moments where hope met disdain.

    Each creak of the floorboard evoked a haunting voice from the past,
    Telling of fables and merriments that couldn’t last.
    The portraits that hung on the walls seemed to cry,
    Reflecting my longing, my wish to defy.

    In the heart of the stillness, where time lost its touch,
    I wandered through memories; my heart could not heal from the clutch.
    The enigmas became entangled, too complex to feel,
    A web of lost moments, no truth to reveal.

    I spoke to the shadows, confided my fears,
    Revealing the heartache that flowed like my tears.
    Indeed, in this embrace of the silent abyss,
    I found a strange comfort, a longing for bliss.

    For solitude wrapped me in a stone mansion,
    Where the flowers of anguish began to flourish without caution.
    In the stillness, I pondered the paths that I chose,
    And the weight of my sorrow, a delicate prose.

    Each echo was a lesson, each silence a melody,
    In the chasms of my solitude, I found serenity.
    Though the world outside faded into the mist,
    In the meadows of solitude, I found my true bliss.

    But even in happiness, a cloud remained,
    A reminder of all that could never be tamed.
    For solitude’s comfort is an ephemeral glimpse at best,
    A fleeting illusion that cannot bring rest.

    And so I remain, a soul intertwined,
    Among echoes of solitude, lost to the mind.
    Surrounded by the quietude, I drift like the night,
    Searching for peace, yet bound to the light.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dead Desires

    Dead Desires

    Dead desires lingered like ghosts,
    Hovering over ruins of faded aspirations,
    The giggles of delight that once filled the air turned to despair,
    A reminder of desires that withered away,
    Like autumn leaves crumbling into dust,
    Beneath the weight of relentless time.

    In the stillness of forsaken dreams,
    Shadows swirled under the tree of hopes that once thrived,
    Weaving through remnants of a forgotten past,
    Each piece of yearning faded into the void,
    As the heart’s vibrant ache succumbed to silence,
    Lost in the echoes of what could have been.

    Days, once painted in vivid hues,
    Became shrouded in muted greys,
    Each moment became a cruel reminder,
    Of warmth that slipped through fingers,
    The chill of time’s cruel embrace
    Froze every hope into lifelessness.

    A single tear traced a path down a cheek,
    Carrying the burden of unfulfilled wishes,
    The heart, once a vessel of fervour,
    Now beat with a hollow rhythm,
    A metronome marking unachieved desires,
    Each tick resonated with loss.

    Dead desires drifted like fallen leaves,
    Words unspoken, deeply felt,
    In the stillness, they hung heavy,
    As the moon illuminated the decay of hope,
    Scattering dreams like ashes in the wind,
    Leaving only shadows of what had been.

    As twilight approached, the air grew colder,
    Each breath was a reminder of dreams abandoned,
    The heart ached for the fire it once held,
    Now, only embers remained,
    Smouldering in the corners of a darkened soul,
    A monument to the dead desires that lingered on.

    In the quiet corners of memory,
    The shadows whispered tales of longing,
    The paths not taken became a haunting refrain,
    As the heart learned to dwell in the silence,
    Embracing the sorrow that filled the void,
    Finding beauty in the ashes of dreams.

    Dead desires echoed through the aisles of time,
    A haunting melody of what might have been,
    Reverberating through the deepest depths of the abyss,
    And, in their sight, the heart understood,
    That within each ember lay a spark of hope,
    A reminder that even in loss, tragedy can unveil meaning.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden pains stirred in the depths of her soul,
    Unspoken whispers, shadows that stole
    Her every breath, her every cry,
    In the cold abyss where dreams go to die.
    She wandered through halls that none dared to tread,
    Where the air was thick with things unsaid.
    Ghosts of memories shattered and torn,
    Clung to the walls like a rose’s thorn.

    Her hands reached out to grasp what was lost,
    But time had ravaged at too high a cost.
    The weight of sins, unspoken and deep,
    Bound her in chains too heavy to keep.
    In every corner, her soul did strain,
    Against the shackle of forbidden pains.

    The windows, once bright with a hopeful light,
    Now mirrored only the eternal night.
    Her voice, a whisper drowned in the wind,
    Echoed the loss of all she’d have aligned.
    The halls grew tighter, the air grew thin,
    Trapped in a labyrinth of guilt and din.
    Her heart beat slow, her breath drew fast,
    A prisoner to memories that couldn’t last.

    She stumbled through visions of what could have been,
    Her reflection was a ghost on the glass so thin.
    Shattered pieces of who she once was
    Lay scattered in fragments, lost in the cause.
    Each step she took was a cry of despair,
    Forbidden pains whispered through the air.

    The portraits wept as she passed by,
    Eyes dark as the sorrow in the sky.
    The doors creaked open, but none let her flee,
    For her past had built the walls of this sea.
    No salvation in sight, no escape from the chains,
    Only the endless weight of forbidden pains.

    At last, she stood on the edge of her fate,
    A shadow waiting at the midnight gate.
    The stars blinked out one by one,
    As her soul unravelled, the thread undid.
    Forbidden pains, her eternal refrain,
    Echoed forever in sorrow’s domain.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    In shadows hideouts where spectres dwell,
    Where moonlight casts its mournful spell,
    There lies a realm of bitter grief,
    Where ghosts of bygone epochs find relief.

    The mazes of a haunted mind,
    With memories cruel, their chains entwined,
    Echo with a sorrowful moan,
    As regrets claim their spectral throne.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Through halls of mist and endless night,
    Where faded hopes lose all their light,
    The wraiths of fate left unmade,
    Drape heavily in spectral shade.

    Each fleeting hope and unspoken plea,
    Becomes a ghoul that hounds the free,
    A lament of moments lost in vain,
    Their hollow cries a ceaseless pain.

    In chambers draped with ashen gloom,
    Where lost ambitions meet their doom,
    The spectres dance in mournful grace,
    Their sorrow was etched upon their face.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    The echo of a whispered choice,
    A silenced scream, a broken voice,
    Shackled to the past’s cruel jest,
    The ghosts of regret never rest.

    Beneath the pall of the moon’s embrace,
    Where shadows mock a vanished face,
    Regrets as ghosts, both cold and vile,
    Haunt the aisles of denial.

    In this forsaken, haunted place,
    Where time stands motionless, a grim embrace,
    The restless phantoms of regret
    Reveal a truth none can’t forget.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    For in the realm of shadows profound,
    Where anguished souls and memories are bound,
    The weight of choices left undone
    It is a curse that haunts everyone.

    So, it needs to tread with care through this dark land,
    Where spectres weave their mournful strand,
    And face the ghosts of dreams untried,
    Lest wanderers will be lost where shadows bide.

    As echoes of regret persist,
    Their chilling grip is like phantom mist,
    They weave through memories, cruel and dire,
    Igniting in the heart a darkened fire.

    In every creak of the decaying wood,
    In the damp and disintegrating falsehood,
    Lies the lingering trace of those lost dreams,
    And the torment of silent screams.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Casting their shadows far and wide,
    Till the soul is lost in this eternal tide,
    Forever bound by chains unseen,
    Where regret’s cruel ghosts have always been.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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