Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: hollow

  • Hollow Nights

    Hollow Nights

    In hollow nights when the stars dared not shine,
    Dreams wandered through hidden mazes, lost in the pine of yearning.
    The aura, full of gloom and despair,
    Bore witness to nightmares that haunted every tear.

    The moon, a mere phantom, cast shadows so pale,
    Illuminated paths where memories wailed.
    Each rustle of leaves echoed tales of the past,
    Of elation that lingered, of joy that would not last.

    I trod lightly on secret spells, each tale hid behind a soft sigh,
    In the silence that wrapped me, I could only comply.
    The darkness embraced me, a cloak worn so tight,
    As I was lost through the remnants of a once-bright night.

    The trees stood like sentinels, guarding the pain,
    Of lovers long lost and the tears that remained.
    Their branches, like fingers, reached out to the moon,
    As if begging for solace, a fleeting tune.

    In the heart of the night, where shadows conspired,
    I sought out the devotion of a long-dead fire.
    But the embers lay cold, buried under the frost,
    A reminder of passion, of the love that was lost.

    And yet, in this hollow, a strange harmony I found,
    In the stillness that lingered, a gentle, soothing sound.
    Since the hollow nights were filled with the past,
    A labyrinth made of memories gathered.

    So I wandered through Twilight, embraced by the night,
    In the hollow of silence, my dreams faded under invisible clouds,
    Each gust of wind was a ghost of delight,
    In the desolate nights where the stars dared not shine.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Hollow Silence

    The Hollow Silence

    The hollow silence gripped the night,
    Beneath the weight of silent skies,
    Where stars once whispered dreams of light,
    But faded away as desires had died.

    The wind of life, a fleeting spark,
    Danced through the trees, then quickly waned—
    Moments dissolved into the dark,
    Lost to the hollow silence’ gloom.

    Time marched on, indifferent still,
    A tireless thief, unseen, unkind,
    Stripping bare the fragile will
    Of those who sought but could not find.

    The hollow silence swelled and grew,
    A wave that drowned all sound, all sense—
    The world spun on, yet no one knew,
    Trapped in its vast indifference.

    No light to guide, no ardour to grant,
    The weight of days, too vast to bear—
    For in that void, all breathed, all lived,
    Nonetheless, it only grasped at hollow air.

    With each effort made, an echoed sigh,
    A sunken sound, a ghostly tread,
    Chasing stars that blurred and died,
    In skies where all the dreams had fled.

    The sun did rise, the moon did fall,
    But neither heeded mortal cries—
    Existence, vast, untouched by all,
    Turned a blind, unfeeling eye.

    The hollow silence claimed its prize,
    Wrapped every thought in numbing frost—
    For in the end, beneath those skies,
    Reckoning all that was treasured and lost.

    And finally, a longing, despite the void,
    For meaning woven in the haze,
    Seeking truths that fate destroyed,
    In endless nights and hollow days.

    A hollow silence called so near,
    Its cold embrace, a final snare—
    The search for answers, year by year,
    Yet only shadows lingered there.

    Still wandering, lost and small,
    Through labyrinths of endless nights—
    Hoping, though fearing the fall,
    That something waited beyond sight.

    But time, relentless in its flight,
    Left all dreams to fade away—
    The distant resonances of the night,
    A silent plea that none could sway.

    Reaching for more eventually only found,
    The hollow silence, all around,
    Burying all without a sound.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Hollow Graveyard

    The Hollow Graveyard

    The hollow graveyard lay beneath the yew,
    Where darkness spread among the dead,
    Its gates were rusted, old, and cold,
    A story of the lost untold.

    Each headstone marked a name erased,
    By time’s relentless, cruel haste,
    The paths were lined with autumn leaves,
    A carpet for the hearts that grieved.

    The trees, they whispered secrets dark,
    Of broken souls and sorrow stark,
    Their branches twisted like hands in pain,
    Reaching out in death’s domain.

    A spectre stood with wings outspread,
    His face was veiled, and his eyes were dead,
    He wept for those who sleep below,
    In silence deep, where shadows grew.

    The wind howled a mournful tune,
    Beneath the pale and ghostly moon,
    It carried with it cries of old,
    Of stories tragic yet untold.

    The wind’s laughter, now a wail,
    A night that sighed in a ghostly veil,
    Ghouls wandered through the mist and gloom,
    Their spirits were trapped within decrepit tombs.

    In the hall, stained glass glows,
    With colours lost to time’s cruel blows,
    The benches were empty, in the midst of dust-filled air,
    Where voices once rose, now lost despair.

    The clock tower struck the midnight hour,
    A tolling bell, a voice of power,
    It echoed through the hollow night,
    A sound that filled the heart with fright.

    Whoever walked through these old gates,
    They were wary of the past that time berated,
    For in the hollow graveyard, shadows of dismay lay,
    And in its silence, ghosts still cried.

    The moonlight danced on moss-covered stones,
    Casting eerie patterns, hauntingly alone,
    The silence of the night grew heavy with dread,
    As whispers of the past filled the air with lead.

    In the stillness, shadows seemed to breathe,
    A spectral presence, a chill that seethed,
    The nighttime, a labyrinth of sorrow and pain,
    Wove stories of the lost that remained.

    The mist curled tightly around each vault,
    A shroud that held the past tightly gripped,
    Echoes of forgotten tales softly sighed,
    As restless spirits in their hollow graves confided.

    Ancient oaks with bare branches,
    Held secrets in the cold night air,
    Their gnarled limbs stretched out like a plea,
    For solace in eternity’s decree.

    As dawn approached with its pale, wan light,
    The graveyard lay still, embracing the night,
    But shadows lingered where the living dared not tread,
    In a realm where the quiet and the haunted wedded.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Beneath The Hollow Tree

    Beneath The Hollow Tree

    Beneath the hollow tree’s dark crown,
    Where twisted branches reached the sky,
    A whisper rustled softly down,
    From roots that mourned and never died.

    The earth around was cold and still,
    Where mournful spectres tended the ground,
    An ancient silence dreaded to fill,
    A world where lost souls were unbound.

    The gnarled trunk, both wise and worn,
    Held tales of curses, bittersweet,
    Of dreams lost and desires forlorn,
    And echoes from the roots’ deceit.

    A hollow wind began to weave,
    Through branches bent in sorrow’s plea,
    A ghostly sigh, a spirit’s grieve,
    That lingered in the twilight’s sea.

    The moonlight cast a spectral glow,
    Through leaves that whispered ghostly magic spells,
    A realm where time was too slow to show,
    And shadows danced perpetually.

    In the tree’s hollow, dark and deep,
    An old, forgotten grave resided,
    Where phantoms in their silence wept,
    And rested beneath the spectral tides.

    A voice once soft now rose clear,
    To beckon those who dared to tread,
    A plea to listen, to draw near,
    To hear the stories of the dead.

    Yet those who heeded the mournful call,
    May have found their fate entwined in woe,
    For beneath the hollow tree’s dark fall,
    The spirits of the lost did grow.

    The roots stretched deep into the dark,
    Where ancient sorrows intertwined,
    Each tendril held a ghostly mark,
    Of lives interwoven with fate’s design.

    The wind’s lament was cold and stark,
    A melody of loss and grief,
    It sings of dreams left in the dark,
    Of shadows yearning for relief.

    The tree’s dark form stood still and grim,
    A sentinel of endless night,
    Its branches weaved a sombre hymn,
    In moonlit haze and spectral light.

    Beneath its boughs, the stories lay,
    In whispered tales of days long past,
    A haunted world where shadows sighed,
    And echoes of the loss were cast.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • I Forgot How To Smile

    I Forgot How To Smile

    I forgot how to smile
    In this world of pain and disguise
    Masks and phantoms are all around
    Barely pretending to unleash the truth
    When mirrors reflect sparkling golden and silver bonds

    I forgot how to be free
    Not falling into beautified traps with magnificent ceilings
    Listening to the real sound of the wind
    Whenever I breathe the fresh air of solitude
    Dizzy and bewildered in a maze of deception and pitfalls

    I forgot how to fly
    And cover my eyes with the leaves of souvenirs
    Forgetting my name and the soil where I walk on
    Nonsense should be my wisdom
    Until I recognise the beauty of invisibility

    Claustrophobic fears deceive me
    Erasing all the strength I own
    Striving to filter the misery in the lake where I drown
    Silently closing my eyes so that I don’t cry anymore
    Choking in a narrow way where I forgot how to scream

    In the ethereal, unending, and eternal quest
    I seclude myself in the abyss of silence and invisibility
    Unconscious and reckless like a crystal in the deepness of the sea
    No shadows or mirrors are my acquaintances
    With no difference between the day and night

    I forgot how to forget
    Whilst fleeting the shallow castles of idiocy and phenomenon
    Waiting for the paper cards to fold and burn in the fire of fairness
    Once more and forever ignoring the ominous dread of depravity
    Standing like a small leaf falling on the cold soil of the oblivion

    I might have forgotten the slumber of my joyful days
    When I lived in the unconsciousness of my thoughts
    Confident that my soul would be delighted forever in the dimness of the betrayal
    Believing that the toxic clasp of doom would have enlightened my life
    Having become captive to a terrible spectre

    I forgot how to smile with a blank mind and closed eyes
    I might have been able to travel far away
    Once and for all, in the idiosyncratic of my imagination
    Deluding myself in glares and wonders
    When after all, I dwell in a dark hollow, I claim to be my fortress.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Without Laudable Expectations

    Without Laudable Expectations

    Without Laudable Expectations

    Without laudable expectations
    When bliss overcomes a temporary melancholy
    In a disillusioned numbness of the soul
    No dream can endure so long time
    And everything becomes ephemeral
    Every single expectation is kept in a sacred shed
    Once all the dreams are swallowed by oblivion
    Hollow trees of humiliation stand in front of the ineptitude
    Shallowness wandering towards inertia and madness
    After the senses have fallen into a deep slumber of unconsciousness
    Only dreary expectancies would touch the sadness for just an instant
    An instant of sacred anguish that would eternalize every trembling passion
    And when the darkness pierces every realm
    Every disgrace becomes a blissful solace.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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