Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: imagination

  • The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities was the place where bullying and arrogance reigned supreme, sovereign over vulgarity and stupidity. They wallpapered the walls of every place that held court in such a realm.

    Anything that could be imagined was both unreal and real at the same time. It could exist or not exist. Absurdity, however, was the master of the place. Thus, everything my logic deemed possible was tangible and predictable. In truth, it could neither take place nor be actualised in such sovereignty.

    I cannot say that I was dreaming, nor can I say that I was awake. In a state of shock and surrender of my ego, I could no longer even discern whether I was daydreaming or hallucinating. All I could say was what my sensations and perceptions made me feel in every part of my soul and heart, in every part of my body.

    Although I had firmly decided not to bend to the will of others, not to bow down or worship the conventions imposed on me persistently, I fell into a deadly trap—a kind of imprisonment, a state of captivity from which I could not free myself. Invisible chains that I felt and perceived in my body and heart held dominion over my life and my way of thinking.

    My jewellery box had been plundered. All my secrets had been revealed by indiscreet tongues. And my protection had vanished. It was as if I had become a defenceless flower in the midst of a threatening desert.

    I had to say goodbye to my version of myself, which was no longer alive. I had to say goodbye to all those visions that had deceived me falsely, when my naivety clouded my sight.

    In the kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities, I had to succumb and suffer. I had nowhere else to go. And the more I tried to escape, the more it seemed that this strange land expanded beneath my feet, preventing me from crossing its high and menacing walls. And what could the sky do but watch me, almost mocking me in an indifferent and cynical manner.
    Elisabetta

  • The Candlelit Gallery Of Statues

    The Candlelit Gallery Of Statues

    The candlelit gallery of statues
    Where the statues remember me
    Amid the silence of their whispers
    While I wandered aimlessly around them
    And my imagination conducted me through the labyrinth of my desires
    My heart craved for beauty and arts
    And I left the mortal world to embrace the realm of my secret dreams

    I became what I had imagined
    I had no shape
    I had no limitations
    I was a spirit invisible to every stare
    With the certitude of my fragility
    I was aware that every step of mine became an invisible fragment of memory
    Sadness didn’t have any power over me
    And regretful memories were just ephemeral visions

    Time seemed to lose power
    And I was acquainted that my existence was not bound to time
    No chain linked my soul
    Indeed I was boundless as a wild bird flying in the sky

    The candlelit gallery of statues had become my eternal dwelling
    Where I could linger wearing my gown of distress and grief
    And fill every chamber with my tears of death.
    Elisabetta

  • The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The magic beneath her smile
    In a hush of varnished sight
    Her gaze held mine
    She was not senseless
    She was enigmatic
    A timeless masterpiece
    An eternal and sublime beauty
    As if she knew everything about me
    And all that I hadn’t yet dared to live

    Seventeen-seventeen was the arcane message
    She whispered to me in the gallery aura
    Like a cypher and a vow
    A painting is much more than a mirror
    It is the reflection of a soul into a thin surface of eternity

    The time became nineteen-nineteen
    Like wings folding back into the surface of my body
    An unlived existence was rising up from between my heart
    And it was not a fairytale or a legend
    But a secret signal and a door to another world

    Surreal fantasies became my realm
    And there I lingered silent and astonished
    Immobile like a sphinx with staring eyes
    Futile as I felt like the moments of bliss I lived in that magic kingdom of beauty and eternity
    An exquisite world where my heart beat again joyfully

    Vanity and ephemeral dreams took me to mysterious places
    Where I discovered new oddities and ancient secrets
    I wouldn’t be able to understand which spell had been cast on me
    I only knew I couldn’t resist the captivating labyrinth of arts

    The magic beneath her smile concealed arcane mysteries
    It wasn’t a prosaic artwork but a divine splendour
    Dressed in centuries of varnish
    Hid behind a shining crystal
    Surrounded by fragments of timeless magnificence.
    Elisabetta

  • The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The realm of crimson roses was my treasure
    The secret haven of my desires for extravagant dreams
    The sweet and bewitching scent of the crimson roses drugged me
    It was like I drank the poison of oblivion for the very first time
    And I forgot my essence, bleeding my heart out

    I had visions and hallucinations like I was in an eternal sleep
    I saw beauty and magnificence in every corner of the castle of dreams
    Crying and smiling, I’ve finally found infinite delight in my abyss of anguish
    No pang could frighten me anymore because I was free
    Like a bird flying so high, it could touch the sky

    I belonged to the realm of crimson roses, and my heart was bound to it
    Through invisible chains made of love and death
    No slumber was necessary anymore because I was in a perpetual state of stupor
    Enchanted by a wicked spell cast over me, I could no longer abandon my state of captivity
    I was languidly mesmerised

    I surrendered to a throne of nightmares and dread
    It was made of crimson roses and adorned with long and sharp thorns
    So pointed were their punches pierced my heart
    Making me bleed until I became an ethereal creature of the night
    The pain freed me from fears and insecurities
    And I had not anymore a material body
    After all, I never lived in reality because I was born in the realm of nightmares and madness

    I knew not whether I dreamt or waked
    So dazed was my mind, I could not divine between vision and verity
    The realm of crimson roses could have been a spectre of my imagination
    Enchanting me like a nocturnal lullaby
    It suited my senses and hypnotised my heart
    A fleeting Utopia, born to wither with the dawn.
    Elisabetta

  • Weeping My Heart Out

    Weeping My Heart Out

    Weeping my heart out in the abyss of the night
    While dark shadows embrace me beneath the pale moonlight made of cold sorrows
    Teardrops carve my name, descending like rivers of woe
    I drown in the ocean of nightmares and death

    The stars have ceased to weep, after staring at the moon’s indifference
    And the wind whispers all my beloved secrets
    Singing the anguish that I keep in my treasure chest
    In my garden of grief where midnight rose

    Weeping my heart out in the stillness of a silent night
    When silence and sorrow prom together
    Echoing through the hollow halls of my soul
    And leaving imprints of longing and grief

    The dawn doesn’t dare to graze my tear-stained face
    Because I belong to the clasp of perpetual twilight
    I’m my weakness and chaos of catastrophe
    Being myself the most intemperate tragedy

    I’m darkness and night
    I’m an ethereal creature of the eternal darkness
    An extravagant flower glowing in the gloomy wilderness
    I love to disappear in the most remote places of my imagination

    Weeping my heart out, I find myself in a meadow of deception
    Where I cannot discern anymore what is real from what is delusion
    Hence, I surrender to the uncertainty of my overwhelming fate
    Unaware of my future demise

    I want to avoid thinking, for I live solely through my passions
    In a frenzy of madness and lust, I become a new creature
    An ephemeral ghost bound to a doomed destiny
    Floating between ecstasy and oblivion

    I take delight in dancing with the spectres of my forsaken desires
    Their strokes ignite flames upon my pale skin
    The night sky swallows the forbidden nectar of my tears
    While I vanish into the chasm of my own longings

    No sunrise will encounter me and no dusk will mourn me
    For I belong to the stillness of the midnight’s embrace
    As I become a shadow lost in the labyrinth of time
    A withering shade, devoured by the void within me.
    Elisabetta

  • My Obscure Sides

    My Obscure Sides

    My obscure sides are so numerous that they cannot be contained by the vastness of the ocean. If someone sought to know them, I would say that I am only made of darkness, for no light remains within me.

    Beneath a cloudy night sky deprived of stars, I wander in my loneliness without any moonlight shining over me. Embracing my fears, uncautiously I explore all my darkest secrets.

    Bold and reckless I explore the most hidden recesses of beauty and mystery. I love to dance alone in the coldest winter nights under the cloudy sky. I love to be mad and foolish and never care about the consequences.

    I’m a courtesan and a poet, embracing my most feral self. I often forget my name and I don’t fit in any box of comfort and conventions. I’m free like a butterfly flying from one flower to another one.

    I adore being stroked by the frost wind and pierced by thunders of passions, feeling the poundage of my incubi on my body during my respite.

    My obscure sides hide quietly in the shadows of my heart. I’m bound forever to darkness and sorrow. Indeed, I’m dressed in an exquisite gown made of grief and tears.

    I love to indulge in my decadence and I love to lie languidly on a bed of flowers contaminated by the dust of decay. Broken like a shattered crystal gem I dwell in absolute silence, inside my dark chamber made of anguish.

    I love to fantasize and live in my absurd dreams. I’m a living paradox and an oddity outside the ordered realm of standard society made of entities who are already lifeless.

    Embracing the chaos within myself, I sink into the abyss of darkness, wrapped in a cloak of sorrows and illusions. Chained by invisible bonds, I get lost in the labyrinth of my imagination.
    Elisabetta

  • The Yellow Rose

    The Yellow Rose

    The yellow rose is my beloved flower
    She watches over me like a star in a dream
    She is always there for me, listening to me
    I love my yellow rose, and she loves me

    In my loneliness, I shun every human shape
    My only refuges are poetry, literature, art and flowers
    I am so overwhelmed by life that I cannot comprehend the sense of my fate
    And so, I abandon myself to decadence and beauty

    Daydreaming is one of my favourite solaces
    I can fly whenever I wish with my imagination
    Avoiding facing a reality and a society I don’t understand
    Feeling always different from others
    I cannot avoid to fall into the valley of despair

    My yellow rose watches over me like a guardian angel
    She is actually my angel, and I protects me from nightmares
    In my secret and hidden garden made of secrets and enigmas
    Where I can lose control of my emotions and be myself

    Panic spasms shake me in my slumber, surrounded by the darkest darkness
    And I can barely breathe, feeling invisible chains around my neck
    And a poundage on my body like an enormous demon of the night
    A ghoul that afflicts my heart with its sharp spear

    The sound of the night birds awakes me in my bed
    And I don’t see anymore my yellow rose that was just an illusion
    A beautiful delusional vision of my subconscious
    I’m all alone again and nothing can protect me anymore

    All my life has been a majestic nightmare
    A nightmare made of violence and survival
    An agony made of horror and demise
    Where there was no place for dreams and hopes
    
    Being voiceless and invisible has been always my reality
    In an existence where I never wanted to be alive
    Being but a doll, half alive and half dead
    A manipulated and deceived doll

    The yellow was my deliverance and the only companion I had
    But she never existed, for she was the fruit of my illusions
    She was the shining star I had always dreamed of
    And forgetting about this life
    I continue to dream because I’m only made of dreams and stars.
    Elisabetta

  • The Portal To Emptiness

    The Portal To Emptiness

    The portal to emptiness was waiting for me
    In hesitation and doubt, I didn’t feel any comfort
    I didn’t trust what I was seeing or hearing
    All I could be assured of was a feeling of uncertainty

    It was as if I was living one of my several lives
    Foolishly embracing my madness with such joy
    Even the wind was terrified by me in its impetuosity
    Being myself, a little tornado of intense emotions

    Left by myself in my extreme solitude
    I sought refuge from my overwhelming grief
    Grief towering over me like a monumental demon
    Making me an insolent creature of the night

    Chasing darkness, I have finally found myself deep
    On the ocean floor of my imagination
    In my realm of wonders and chimeras
    I desired to find my utopic idyll

    My dreams touched me night and day
    All over my body like soft strokes
    Fantasies pierced my heart making it bleed
    With their sweet and sharp daggers

    I became a crimson rose, with all my petals tainted by blood
    And pointed thorns as powerful as diamond gems
    Although I was crying for my freedom from my roots and cold soil
    I had to surrender to my slavery

    And I could only dream over and over again without hope
    I cried and sobbed like a winter storm
    And I felt needles stabbing all my petals
    Arrows of anguish and awareness of my impending decay

    Nothing anymore could have released me from my huge distress and dismay
    I was merely a red rose and nothing more
    One of the several red roses of an ordinary city garden
    Nothing anymore could have been important to me

    The portal to emptiness was in front of me
    And now, I was made of dust and decay
    Decadence was my name and like a butterfly pinned on a wall
    I remained still as a crystal rose standing on a barren earth.
    Elisabetta

  • The Death In Front Of Me

    The Death In Front Of Me

    The death in front of me manifested in the night
    During my solitary stroll in the gelid streets
    Where no one could have saved me
    Surrounded by the whispers of dead spirit and madness

    The death inside myself amused me without any doubt
    The fantasies and memories that constantly would have hunted me
    They disappeared in the emptiness of the night
    And I alone had to face all my fears and anguishes
    Without any help or comfort

    Conscious of my unfair fate, I had to seek refuge in my inner thoughts
    Where I have could definitely be myself
    With no remorse or regrets
    Aiming to the most pure, and beautiful realm of my dreams

    A realm of visions and dreams was conceived by my weirdness and bizarre imagination
    Uncontrolled emotions pervaded my body until my bones
    And I didn’t feel anymore the frigid wind that stroked me
    I couldn’t even realise in which reality I was living in

    The darkness and the absolute silence were my loyal companions
    Although all the bizarre fantasies in my mind were always making noise
    And all I could see was the death in front of me
    Waiting for me to fall into decay
    I ended up in my dungeon, from where I never could have escaped

    My heart was entirely lost and full of longings
    And I couldn’t find any reasonable wisdom
    So much I was mislaid in my realm of illusions
    That I couldn’t see other realities than mine

    Nevertheless, when I was awakened from my slumber
    I felt the pain of my suffering and the transience of my imagination
    Yearning for a long-lost serenity that I never had
    A utopia made of ethereal beauty and love

    The death in front of me strove to possess me
    But it never had the chance to seize me
    Instead, I slipped through its grasp among the several shadows of the night
    Elisabetta

  • The Invisible Cage

    The Invisible Cage

    The invisible cage was tight enough to trap every dream,
    Chains made of silence had bound sighs and hearts in an endless void of despair,
    Where hope was swallowed whole, and nothingness reigned.

    Having wandered through shadows, searching for hope,
    Each dream had been a reminder of an endless fight and failure.
    Darkness and light were trapped within the confines of an unseen embrace.

    A realm depleted of colour and lost without a trace,
    Whose walls were made of disquiet and the ceilings of doubt,
    Each teardrop had been a reminder of the dreams that screamed out.

    Yearned for freedom that dared just beyond,
    A flicker of hope had kept the spirit fond.
    The fences and chains were made of silence and fears deeply sown,
    And each thought became a reminder of how far distress and anguish had shown.

    The invisible cage was unseen but powerful,
    Had held the wandering spirits captive for far too long.
    Each day had felt like a ferocious struggle, and the nights had been long,
    Crushed beneath the weight of what seemed so unfair.

    Stares had looked to the sky where eagles had soared free,
    While the stars remained bound, longing to flee.
    In the abysm of the imagination, rebellion had ignited,
    Boldness had broken through what once was blighted.

    Desires had been filled with expectations beyond the realm of shadows,
    As the senses wandered through the endless dark.
    Each belief had turned to chains that dug deeper still,
    Like a well without water or a promise that would never be fulfilled.

    Though the cage had been hidden, its power had increased,
    Everything turned to dust like shattered crystals.
    In the garden of distress, the nightmares had bloomed and thrived,
    Sorrows were carved on each leaf and petal.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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