Tag: gothic poem

  • Beneath The Light Of A Candle

    Beneath The Light Of A Candle

    Beneath the light of a candle
    I hid all my sorrows
    My crying out loud was the epitome of my shadows
    Lying on the wooden soil of my dark chamber
    I could listen to the delightful sound of raindrops
    My heart had been broken in myriad moments
    And I could see it hovering in the sky
    Painting the wallpaper with crimson hues
    The scent of dragon’s blood incense enveloped me in a thick cloud
    I could allow myself to follow my foolish illusions
    They have always kept me on the verge of madness
    A relentless turmoil would have emptied me endlessly
    Fragmenting my soul and transforming it into stardust
    I had fallen victim to my own tragedy
    Even though I have eluded the burden of grief
    All the most beautiful blossoms of my garden had withered
    Flowered meadows transformed into a hollow valley of tears and withered rose petals
    I had lost all my dearest treasures and a spell was cast over my erratic fate
    Crimson and dark shadows were confining me in my infernal dwelling
    Haunted by dark memories and vicious obsessions
    Where I couldn’t find a sparkle of love and hope
    I might have been allowed to see my relentless crypt
    There she stood so magnificent and exquisite
    A monument to my witlessness and folly
    Beneath the light of a candle
    I had vanished anonymously
    Only glooms and clouds were grieving for me
    Under a sky made of glass and pearls
    At nightfall
    When chimaeras and ghouls gathered
    As soon as the moon summoned them
    Therefore I had become a creature of the otherworld
    A realm of perpetual twilight and wilted leaves
    Where wisdom had forever been obliterated
    And silence sealed the portal to mortal sight.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sparkles Of Spell And Starlight

    Sparkles Of Spell And Starlight

    Sparkles of spell and starlight rained over me in my luscious garden of roses and bones. The shining stars were celebrating a feast in the voluptuous night sky.

    I fell in love with the glistening starlight and the sublime scent of my roses. I could taste the bitterness of melancholy in every drop of enchantment I was able to sip quietly in my secret refuge.

    Locked and invisible to mortal gaze, I could freely talk to mirrors and ask questions to the wind. In the dark and gloomy night sky, I could glimpse sparkling gems casting glares across the clouds.

    Nonetheless, I carried the burden of my tragedy, unaware of what love truly meant. I felt protected in my intimate garden of passion and forbidden desires, where I fantasised about lovely blossoms and sharp thorns.

    The mesmerising night was celebrated by the stars and the moon, which sighed with delight and surprise. I dreamt of extravagant flowers blooming like arcane mysteries.

    Awakened and dizzied, I relied on my derealization, and I could perceive all the things, which couldn’t be perceived by ordinary mortals. I have seen degradation and decay creep into magnificent works of art silently and subtly.

    I was made of chaos and starlight. I became the lover of my cosmic dreams, which accompanied me to bewitching forests and labyrinths of perdition. I had embraced my doom and my oblivion.

    Not far away, I could hear the ocean’s shore stuffed with broken seashells and withered rose petals. A salty breeze dazzled me by making me remember sugarcoated lies and bitter betrayals.

    My heart beat fast like a comet star of fire and ice. I had become the queen of the night and darkness, and I followed the rules of madness and frenzy. I enjoyed casting tainted spells on mortal souls.

    Sparkles of magic and starlight unleashed free in my bizarre fantasies during a winter midnight in my secret garden of dead trees and faded blooms. I felt the discomfort of my mystic intuition that had me see much more of what I wanted to know.

    I leaned against the stone wall of my gloomy dwelling. I had finally caught a glimpse of every single circumstance that I had imagined clearly in my previous dreams. I wished I were wrong and I wished to become silly like those lost creatures wandering in search of a phoney love.

    And therein I was, waiting for the moon to rise again in the valley of crystal pebbles and alluring pale roses. I shunned the exquisite appetites of passion that had destroyed me in my past existence.

    No mirror could ever hurt me any longer, at that very moment of awakening and awareness. I sparkled like a shining star among bones and candles. No ghouls could ever have hurt me now that I transformed into an imperturbable glimmer of starlight.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among heartbeats and sighs, I passed my long summer nights, while dew from the flowers fell on my skin. Purity and passion blended, enticing me to the garden of the forbidden desires.

    The wind carried the exquisite poison of night flowers to my lips, awakening my body. I was mesmerised and enchanted with the phantom beauty of my own descent.

    I dreamed of marvellous roses sumptuously evoking delight and bliss. I grabbed and bit the fruits of frenzy and turmoil ready to satisfy my desire.

    Desire and covetousness were my startling cravings, which made my heart beat again and again like a source of power. I was dominated by my passions that monopolised all my attention.

    I fell into the trap of my mistakes and cried out all my pangs as if my teardrops could have erased all that dismay. I kept a multitude of longings in my secret treasure chest, which I sealed with tears and trepidation.

    A gloomy cloud of fear and disillusion enveloped me threateningly, deterring me from staring at the luminaries shining bright in the dark blue firmament.

    I was conquered like prey by wicked impulses, which were conducting me to the brink of uproar. I couldn’t find peace anymore in my slumber since evil nightmares were keeping me eternally awake.

    Demise would have been the portal of my liberation, and instead, I was playing with ghosts and magical roses. I didn’t want to accept the truth, I desired to pretend that everything was perfectly terrible.

    The silver moon gleamed upon me pouring its ethereal light over my garden of woe and sorrow. And among heartbeats and sighs, I remained silent and listened to the whispers of the nocturnal breeze.

    I could scent the taste of toxic magic on my red lips. I felt a burden in my chest burning like an everlasting flame. I wished fervently to be a free butterfly, flying over enchanted flowers. I wished intensely to be a free bird, soaring high amidst clouds and stars.

    A spell was cast over me, binding my heart to invisible phantoms. Desires had ensnared me in their vicious frolic, melting my heart into a lake of fire and ice. Therefore, I became a creature of that realm of shadows and darkness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sweet And Mournful Vexations

    Sweet And Mournful Vexations

    Sweet and mournful vexations fell all over me like a midsummer rain shower, while I was enticed frantically by my nocturnal demons with shallow folly. All alone I tried to disentangle myself from those chains of obsession.

    I could barely breathe and I wasn’t able to remember my name at all. So reserved and bashful as I was born, I couldn’t avoid wandering nowhere to find myself and the arcane secret locked by my fate.

    I had wished for myself a different destiny that would have granted me solace and delights. No peace remained in my treasure chest but only the dust of decay and a sparkle of dismay.

    A deafening silence claimed that I was insolent for my fearless dreams. I missed the calm nights at the candlelight, soothed by the sound of lullabies and ocean storms.

    I envisioned the image of spectres each time I approached the silver surface of a broken mirror. A feverish delirium forced me to succumb to the darkness of the night.

    I might have been a withered flower. I might have been a living creature. The gelid arrows of the frosty wind penetrated my heart that was burning like an everlasting flame. So frail I felt I could crumble like a crystal flower under the influence of devastation.

    Maybe the abyss of descent had swallowed me like a wild monster from the underworld. Chaos bound me like a velvet veil fallen from the gloomy sky, while shadows hushed me as if I were on the brink of disclosing their enigmas.

    Sweet and mournful vexations lulled me to my decay, engraving a mysterious elegy on every stone of my dungeon. A magnificent melancholy consoled me now that I was nothing but just the spoil of myself.

    I had created my own doom by means of my own nightmares. Was I the real and only creator of my own oblivion? That question echoed in my head forever like a haunting dream. I couldn’t even surprise myself anymore.

    So greatly lured was I, drawn into the maze of my own turmoil, where each image promised ecstasy exclusively, and instead offered me only exquisite torments. So much intertwined I was in the spiderweb of my fears that I could not liberate myself.

    Devoured by my own passions and obsessions, I entered the labyrinth of sweet and mournful vexations, which clung to my very heart like insidious ivy. Meanwhile, the imperceptible sound of the night surrounded me like a mystic mist. And therein I remained like a frozen butterfly in a garden of shimmering glaze.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I fell in love with my demons, and I wandered alone like a feral creature in the forest, feeling a burning passion every time I tasted the night, suspended in the eternity of darkness. I was haunted and viciously allured by creatures of the night.

    I sought my reflection in broken mirrors adorned with crystals and silver. However, I was never capable of seeing my countenance in them. My bed wasa sarcophagus, and my only devoted abettors were evil ghouls and ravens.

    Every night, I drowned in the ocean of tears made of pain and anguish. The only light I could gaze upon was the crimson moonlight staring at me ferociously. As much as I tried to avoid my phobias and nightmares, they constantly terrified me in the shapes of shadows and ghosts.

    I mourned through the endless night over all the despair and distress I could no longer avoid. Exhaustion consumed me entirely. The most agonising fears penetrated my heart with their thorns like prickly brambles.

    I was perpetually entangled in ruinous dismay, and I was ensnared in a web of anguish and obsession. A burning flame overwhelmed my heart, devouring it. I was transformed into a spectre made of fire and frost.

    I fell in love with my nightmares, and I embraced all the pain I was destined to endure. My yearnings were my ruin, and I surrendered to their devastation. I didn’t fight against doom and decay anymore; I embodied them.

    I took advantage of my secret haven carved in ice and fire. Darkness didn’t scare me any longer, for I was made of gloom and shadows. Absurdity became my norm as I was altered into a complete oddity. I stood as a total aberration before mortal eyes.

    No creature could save me from that deadly and tainted chasm, where I finally embraced my most authentic essence. I fell in love with everlasting oblivion and infinity. I rediscovered devotion and bliss in delirium and hallucinations.

    My utmost pleasure was losing my heart, which was speared by the demons I cherished the most. I clasped my madness with a rope made of thorns and hooks. I sprawled on ashes and dust, sinking into an eternal slumber.

    Eternity and disintegration were in me, as well as the steady necessity to sense dismay. Pain was an exquisite gift that my evils offered to me. I transmuted to darkness and oblivion. I had no name, and no mirror could reflect my countenance.

    Obsession and tragedy were engraved in my heart. A deluge of frenzies bloomed like stone flowers. The eternal night welcomed me and revealed to me all its arcane secrets.

    The sound of solitude rumbled like a menacing roar. The only light shining over me was the crimson moonlight, soaked in remembrances and forbidden oaths. I fell in love with my demons and dismay. Every teardrop of mine became decay.

    Tormented ruins and relics emerged in the graveyard of my deceased dreams. The stars halted to shed light on me. Darkness became eternity and infinity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Unconditional Quietness

    Unconditional Quietness

    Unconditional quietness numbed me into a slumber that made me regret all my desires and reminded me of my foolishness. I might have forgotten who I was because of a multitude of versions of myself inhabiting my soul.

    I couldn’t clearly see what awaited me, since my fate was hidden beyond a gloomy swamp of illusions and deceptions. A forest of mangroves was discouraging me from advancing. Hence, I was ensnared by their leafy claws.

    I could no longer tell imagination from reality, so profuse were the visions that enthralled me. I felt no fear or panic, nevertheless, I could hear a lullaby of illusions pulling at my heart with silken hooks.

    That hypnotic stillness was concealing my undoing. A dreadful oblivion was awaiting me as I became its adored prey. I had no choice but to become a tiny and fragile creature surrounded by withered flowers and relics of beauty. And so I was cast away and I vanished in dismay.

    All my lost dreams and eagerly guarded treasures resurfaced in the marsh of desolation and turmoil. I had reached the edges of the realm of oblivion.

    So forsaken was I in the chasms of my daydream that I had forgotten the existence of the stars on a majestic winter night. Truly, I had sought too long the sense of my existence, and I had never found it.

    In my unconditional quietness, I had found chaos and tragedy. There wasn’t even a fragment of hope that I would be redeemed by my destiny. I had been cast away by the luminaries that glimmered in all their magnificence.

    The moon hid behind gloomy clouds so thick that it was impossible to ignore their yearning for spells and magical hexes. The sky’s immense shadows touched my swamp, melting in it like ethereal soap bubbles.
    Elisabetta Esthe

  • A Storm Of Tragedies

    A Storm Of Tragedies

    A storm of tragedies suddenly overwhelmed me
    Dragging me into the abyss of despair and surrender
    A delight for my weeping heart that was burning like an inextinguishable flame
    My fate knew no expectation
    No longing was any longer granted to me
    I had been overwhelmed once again
    And I had been forsaken by my own stars
    Rather, I had been retained in shadows and dismay
    Lost in my soliloquies
    I realised that it was all a dreadful dream
    A nightmare in disguise
    And so the eternal night never came to an end
    The sky was invisible to me
    While I was relegated to my secret vault
    In solitude and dismay, I was destined to endure my existence
    Emptiness was swallowing me from within
    As I could hear the sound of my tears collapsing incessantly on the frigid soil
    Anguish didn’t spare my heart, stroking it like a ceaseless dismay
    I knew not what destiny might have reserved for me
    Dread kept my heart in pangs, helpless in its naivety and foolishness
    Even the moon averted its gaze from me
    Whilst a deafening silence surrounded me
    The cold wind of the eternal night could no longer hurt me
    Since I had become a creature of darkness, without longings or expectations
    My downfall had become my reprieve
    I had found delight in discomfort and grief
    My secret refuge was made of dust and bare stones
    My comfort and haven were made of chaos
    Dreaming of starlight and love was only a remote chimeara
    I was no longer the privileged creature of stars and rainbows
    Instead, I belonged to the realm of gloomy skies and vicious traps
    In my frozen loneliness and seclusion
    Therein I was destined to subsist in decadence and sweet melancholy
    With no rescue or transformation
    Pearls and tears were flowing down my face and body
    And I remained therein forever.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams of oblivion darkened my sleep.
    They were like palliatives for my searing pain,
    numbing my heart and soothing—
    If only for a moment—
    My spasms of fear.

    My disappointments had become like cobwebs woven inside my heart,
    darkening every joy, even the smallest.
    Ultimately, I had not chosen my fate,
    and I groped in the dark uncertainty,
    trying to understand where I was and who I was.

    The disdain and aloofness that oozed from the faces of mortals who had crossed my miserable existence
    had transformed me into a silent, sombre shadow
    whose image did not appear in any mirror.

    In my dreams of oblivion and madness, mediocre monsters that sought to tear me apart
    appeared menacingly in the realm I tried to protect and keep as mine.
    Their intrusion was truly an act of violence.
    Their intent to destroy me was the source of my fears.

    Ancient dusty clocks tolled the time, which always seemed the same.
    The dust of decay and sorrow fell upon me like a heavy rain,
    covering me completely and turning me into an invisible shell.

    Watchful and evanescent veils covered me, so as not to show me the harsh reality whose injustice and squalor could have tainted the integrity of my heart. And my attempt to awaken from that stupor mixed with despair was in vain.

    I was about to become oblivion.
    I was about to become my dreams.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.

    Perhaps I myself was an illusion,
    perhaps I had become a utopia or a chimaera.
    The devastating pain had transformed me
    and erased every trace of my mortality.
    Elisabetta

  • Decadent Dreams

    Decadent Dreams

    Decadent dreams hid beneath a sky of velvet blackness,
    Where the moonlight dripped with silver gleam,
    I wandered through the shadows’ track,
    Ensnared within a luscious scent of peonies and magnolias.

    The atmosphere was rich with crystal cries,
    Each echoing from lips unseen,
    Their hollow tones, like lullabies,
    Enchanted by the night’s routine.

    The trees, like skeletons, did sway,
    Their bony fingers grazed my skin,
    And in the distance, far away,
    A mansion stood, draped deep within.

    Its windows glowed a ghostly red,
    Where once the living thrived in grace,
    Now filled with spirits long since dead,
    Whose laughter lingered in that place.

    I climbed the steep steps of crumbling stone,
    Through doors that sighed beneath my hand,
    Inside, I stood cold and alone like a flower made of bones,
    Within a hollow, haunted land.

    The walls were clothed in silk and gold,
    Yet dust adorned each tarnished crown,
    And tapestries, though bright and bold,
    Now sagged beneath the weight of frowns.

    I strolled in halls that stretched like years,
    Where mirrors showed no form of mine,
    And every sculpture fell in drops with tears,
    From eyes that once dared cross the line.

    A figure there, with a gown of night,
    Approached me in a silent haze,
    Her face a mask of absent light,
    Her touch was a spark of ancient days.

    She whispered softly in my ear,
    Of pleasures lost and time undone,
    Of paths that led to pain and fear,
    And dreams decayed beneath the sun.

    I left her there, a wraith of yore,
    And fled the mansion’s ghastly glow,
    But still her voice, forevermore,
    Remains with me wherever I go.

    For in that place of nightmarish gleams,
    I found no peace, no sweet release,
    Only the echo of decadent dreams,
    That haunts me now and never ceases.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Whispers in the Gloom

    Whispers in the Gloom

    Whispers in the gloom, in the abyss of shadows, where no light gleams,
    A cursed wind stirs midnight dreams.
    Through halls and corridors of ancient stone,
    The whispers rise, a hollowed moan.

    Beneath the vault of blackened skies,
    Where graves of mystery in silence lie,
    The earth does tremble, cold and bare,
    As phantoms wail in lost despair.

    Within the castle’s crumbling walls,
    A chilling echo softly calls,
    From darkened rooms and passageways untold,
    Where time has decayed, all that’s bold.

    The portraits watch with eerie and ghostly eyes,
    The souls of those who dared defy.
    Their faces twist in frozen pain,
    Trapped forever, lost, astray.

    The moon, a pale and spectral sight,
    Shines down upon the cursed night.
    It bathes the land in a ghostly glow,
    And feeds the fear that lurks below.

    The trees, once green, are now twisted, rare,
    Reach out like claws into the air.
    They scrape and groan, their limbs entwined,
    As though they grasp for what they’ve pined.

    In every gust, a voice resounds,
    A tale of grief that knows no bounds.
    Of love once pure, now turned to dust,
    Of hearts betrayed and broken trust.

    A maiden fair with golden hair,
    Once, she wandered those halls with a soft embrace.
    Her beauty bright, her merriment a delight,
    But darkness stole her soul one night.

    She wanders now, a ghostly wraith,
    Her eyes alight with long-lost faith.
    Her hands reach out, but none remain
    To save her from eternal pain.

    The ancient bell begins to toll,
    A knell that shakes the very soul.
    Its ringing marks the hour of doom,
    The end for all who dare presume.

    And in the depths, the darkness grows,
    Its tendrils creeping, slow and close.
    It claims the lost, the broken, the weak,
    It finds the hearts that dare to seek.

    A wandering spirit, with steps unsure,
    Might fall into the darkness’ lure.
    For whispers in the gloom will swell,
    In lands where shadows ever dwell.
    The night is long, and none may tell.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2026. All rights reserved.