Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: loss

  • The Shattered Mirror

    The Shattered Mirror

    The shattered mirror reflected in a room where shadows blended,
    A mirror that was laid with cracks that had torn,
    Its fractured glass reflected the gloom,
    The sorrows of an empty and desolate room.

    Each shard had been a fragment of despair,
    A thousand eyes that had never stared,
    Their stories had been lost in time’s cruel twist,
    A reflection of what had been missed.

    The gelid air pressed, tight and thin,
    As if the night itself might spin,
    The glass trembled, cracked, and shrieked,
    A haunting of forgotten lies.

    Mystery had been seen within the shards so frail,
    Where ghosts of dreams had not sailed,
    A broken past, a fractured sight,
    In a mirror that showed secrets that had been true.

    The shattered mirror shimmered with a ghostly light,
    Reflecting sinister shadows in the night,
    Each fragment held a glimpse of disdain,
    A shattered tale that would not remain.

    The room was filled with spectral sighs,
    As the mirror’s shards revealed betrayal,
    The dreams that had shattered long ago,
    In that room where sorrow had grown.

    The darkness wrapped around the glass,
    A ghostly shroud as moments had passed,
    In the mirror’s fractured face,
    Lay a haunted, desolate space.

    The room grew colder, steeped in the past,
    Where whispers of anguish were cast,
    Each piece of glass held a mournful tune,
    A requiem for a forsaken moon.

    Through the fractures, shadows wept,
    Silent sorrows forever kept,
    The reflection of what once was clear,
    Now lost in a realm of devilish fear.

    Time’s passage had left a mark so deep,
    Where phantoms of memories had silently crept,
    The mirror’s shards, each one steeped in regret,
    Had borne witness to the dreams unmet.

    In the stillness, where echoes had wailed,
    A tale of sorrow, a ghostly veil,
    And as the night had taken its final breath,
    The mirror’s silence had spoken of death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forsaken Lighthouse

    The Forsaken Lighthouse

    The forsaken lighthouse stood on a cliff,
    Where waves crashed below, and cold winds blew,
    Its beacon, once a guiding light,
    Now darkened by eternal night.

    The keeper’s ghost walked the stairs,
    His heart was a web of deep despairs,
    With each step, his sorrow increased,
    In the lighthouse, where no light glimmered.

    His love was lost to the sea’s embrace,
    A tragic time that could not have been erased,
    He waited for her on stormy nights,
    In shadows deep, beneath moonlight.

    The foghorn moans, a mournful sound,
    A cry for souls lost and unfound,
    The sea whispered tales of woe,
    Of lives claimed by its undertow.

    The lantern room, a silent tomb,
    Where once a flame cut through the gloom,
    Now dark and cold, it held his pain,
    In every drop of sorrow’s rain.

    He tended a lamp that never burned,
    In endless nights, his spirit yearned,
    For a return, a hopeless dream,
    In the lighthouse, where shadows screamed.

    The waves crashed hard against the rock,
    Their fury met with silent shock,
    His ghostly formed, a shade of silver,
    A heart that’s lost, a soul in the fray.

    The seagulls cried, a haunting plea,
    Above the dark, relentless sea,
    Their wings a blur against the sky,
    In mournful flight, they, too, must have died.

    The forsaken lighthouse lost forever its beacon’s glow,
    Besotted by the sorrow that ruled infamously,
    For in that tower, shadows dwelled,
    Of love lost to the ocean’s swell.

    Beneath the stars, his vigil kept,
    As tides rose high and darkness crept,
    The ghostly keeper, bound by fate,
    In sorrow’s grasp, he’d always have to wait.

    A presence in the mist so pale,
    A love-lorn ghost, a mournful tale,
    The forsaken lighthouse stood as a monument,
    To love and loss, forever spent,
    An unextinguished flame to the broken-hearted lost in the gale.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Manor

    The Melancholy Manor

    The melancholy manor, grand yet worn,
    Hosted a ghost of sorrow born,
    Its halls were cold, its rooms were bare,
    With echoes of despair.

    The chandelier, it swayed with ease,
    In the drafts of phantom breezes,
    Its crystals caught the moon’s cold light,
    Casting shadows in the night.

    Portraits hung on walls of dust,
    Faces faded, lost to rust,
    Their gazes, they followed every move,
    In this mansion, none could have soothed.

    A piano in the corner stood alone,
    Its keys were untouched by mortal hands,
    It played a tune of deep lament,
    A melody of sorrow spent.

    In the library, books decayed,
    Their pages brown, their words away,
    Each ancient tome was a tale of love and loss,
    Of souls that paid the highest cost.

    The garden, wild with creeping vines,
    Its beauty was lost to dark edges,
    A fountain dry, its waters gone,
    A symbol of what’s passed and done.

    The mirrors cracked, reflecting the past,
    Of memories that could not have lasted,
    A phantom’s face, a spectral tear,
    They waited for someone who was not near.

    The staircase creaked with every step,
    A sound that made the silence weep,
    Its bannister, a cold embrace,
    Of hands that longed for warmest grace.

    The clock ticked in mournful chime,
    A metronome of endless time,
    In every corner, shadows played,
    In the manor, where ghosts stayed.

    Whoever found themselves trapped inside,
    This house of sorrow, thick and evanescent,
    Remembered those who lived before,
    And left their grief within its doors.

    The melancholy manor was silent and forsaken,
    On the inside, lingering threads of lost despair,
    The manor held its secrets tight,
    Within the grip of endless nights.

    Cobwebs draped like silken shrouds,
    Ensnaring dreams beneath their clouds,
    Time was immutable in haunted gloom,
    Where sorrow was the only bloom.

    Outside, the wind began to howl,
    Echoing the manor’s mournful growl,
    The world moved on, but there it stayed,
    A relic of the lives betrayed.

    No respite from the phantom’s call,
    Bound to the melancholy hall,
    The manor wept with ghostly grace,
    A timeless, haunted, solemn place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Ghosts Of Yesterday

    The Ghosts Of Yesterday

    The ghosts of yesterday hid beneath the weeping willow tree,
    Where shadows danced in eerie spree,
    A graveyard silently mourned the dead,
    With whispered secrets softly revealed.

    The moonlight cast a spectral glow,
    On tombstones lined in solemn rows,
    Each name had a story carved in stone,
    Of lives now lost, of souls alone.

    In this cold ground, they found no rest,
    Their spirits were heavy and oppressed,
    They wandered beneath the mournful skies,
    With hollow hearts and tearful eyes.

    Once vibrant lives, now dimmed by time,
    In spectral plays, in mournful rhyme,
    They lingered everywhere in silent grief,
    Their only solace was autumn’s leaves.

    The nights grew long, the days were few,
    And shadows lengthened, taking hue,
    In this place where time stood immobile,
    The air became cold with winter’s chill.

    A figure dressed in gloomy grief,
    Sorrow etched upon their face,
    Weeping for love that slipped away,
    For dreams that died in disarray.

    A fleeting life in empty nights, in endless despair,
    Lost in echoes of forgotten longings,
    Grasping at shadows that vanished in the air,
    Yearning for solace that’s never there.

    They haunted the night, they haunted the day,
    In endless search, they found no way,
    Their whispers chilled the autumn air,
    Their presence was felt but never there.

    During the long walks through this dark place,
    Beware the ghosts, their sorrowed grace,
    For in their eyes, there will be fears,
    In their whispers, there will be tears.

    In this desolate land of endless grief,
    Each memory served as a thief,
    Stealing joy, sowing woe,
    In a place where only shadows grew.

    The wind carried their mournful sighs,
    Through moonlit nights and cloudy skies,
    An eternal flow of grief and sorrow,
    Where no dawn promised a brighter tomorrow.

    The ghosts of yesterday forever dwelled in this arcane realm,
    Trapped in their own eternal misery.
    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

  • Pain And Anguish

    Pain And Anguish

    Pain and anguish blossomed into a sombre dawn,
    When shadows lingered and hope withdrawn,
    And echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.

    A realm awash in tears that flowed like wild rivers,
    Where darkness reigned, and doubts grew,
    Within this bleak, relentless was the night,
    Glimmers of resilience fainted bright.

    Tales of shattered dreams and hearts torn apart,
    Wove a lore of loss, a solemn art,
    Amidst the despair, a sign of defeat and surrender,
    Yearned to pierce through the perpetual night.

    In the depths of desolation, a journey through sorrow,
    Kindling an unextinguished flame of destruction,
    Within the heavy gloom of ashes of despair,
    After the inexorable loss of solaces and grimaces.

    Haunting and heinous memories became hideous ghosts of the imagination,
    Influential in their gloomy and whispering torments,
    Leaving destruction and death behind.

    The aether became thick with the scent of despair,
    As intrusions from the past pierced through the night air,
    Spectral forms weaving a veil of woes,
    In a sky where the stars refused to glow.

    In a sky perpetually painted with a stormy dye,
    The silence was deafening, and the stillness was heavy as arsenic,
    Binding pure love and innocence in an unwavering state.

    In the shadow of sorrow, dreadful glimmers appeared,
    A long-forgotten nightmare as a distant hope,
    Fumbling in the darkness, wicked and frail,
    But enough to whisper that everything was lost.

    Pain and anguish bloomed into scorn and despair,
    During journeys made of infinite trials and unknown foes,
    When obscurity lingered and hope withdrawn,
    Echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted obsessions of failed dreams,
    In the darkened corners of the subconscious,
    Where shadows unleashed dreams unwound,
    A world of obsessions, all alone.

    Whispers echoed through the sordid obscurity,
    Drawing wraiths to forbidden lights,
    A touch, a sigh, a fleeting glance,
    Lost in the thrall of a reckless trance.

    Desires stolen and broken, out of reach,
    Longings hidden, cruel and true,
    Yearning for those invisible chimaeras the day denied,
    In silent, shamed, and sleazy cries.

    Souls that sought what they should shun,
    Minds that ached for the undone,
    In a labyrinth of illusions and betrayal,
    Obsessions took their hidden refuge.

    A tangled web of despair and loss,
    A dungeon where dark passions bred,
    Haunted in a ghostly daze,
    Lost forever in a damning swirl.

    A gloom and spark remained amidst the chains of dissolution,
    On the deepest night, twisted obsessions ensnared all the dreamers,
    In an abyss of despair and fear with no turning points,
    Even if hope was not a lost cause.

    Twisted obsessions of gloomy fates were the cruel rulers of chaotic existences,
    Once again, they were reborn each nighttime,
    Under the influence of an uncertain order of arcane forces.

    Numbness and slumber remained faithful companions of painful reveries,
    Whenever the desire for despair and sorrow trapped every delight,
    In the midst of the chaos and unknown,
    A game of subjugation and delirium.

    Twisted obsessions and sad insanities,
    Danced on the edges of broken hearts,
    Feeding on the remnants of the soundness of mind,
    Spinning tales of endless binds.

    Sighs of broken promises were released,
    Only to fall into the most profound distress of the night,
    Where shadows became the only lonely and friendly essences,
    And the sun’s happiness was out of sight.

    In such a realm, where reality was fractured,
    Dreams and fears became a forest of drear,
    A fictitious masquerade of hopes defiled,
    By the weight of twisted time.

    Indeed, in the heart of this desolation,
    Every gleam of delight faded away,
    Souls were swallowed by the dark embrace,
    And lost dreams continued to fray.

    Twisted obsessions, relentless and cold,
    Fractured every delight into a shattered mould,
    Leaving behind a void where hope had once dwelled.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Concealed Dreams

    Concealed Dreams

    Concealed dreams,
    Fly through the night,
    Hidden in shadows,
    Beyond the reach of light.

    Beneath the surface,
    They quietly glow,
    Awaiting their moment,
    A chance to vanish.

    In secret labyrinths,
    Where fantasy resides,
    They bide their time,
    And silently glide.

    In the night realm,
    They softly tread,
    Planting seeds,
    In the fearless imagination.

    Concealed dreams,
    Yearn to be free,
    To break the chains,
    And sail the sea.

    With dawn’s first light,
    They start to rise,
    Unfolding their wings,
    To kiss the skies.

    No longer hidden,
    Their voices whisper,
    Transforming the world,
    With the joy they bring.

    Concealed dreams,
    Under starlit skies,
    Woven in sighs,
    Where the quiet lies.

    They dance in twilight,
    Where wishes are spun,
    In the deep of night,
    Away from the sun.

    These dreams are sacred,
    Held close and dear,
    Unseen by many,
    But ever so clear.

    In the stillness,
    They softly bloom,
    Casting away,
    The shadows of gloom.

    Silent and patient,
    They gather might,
    Awaiting the dawn,
    To embrace the light.

    With each longing,
    They gain their form,
    Defying the tempest,
    Braving the storm.

    Concealed dreams,
    find their voice,
    singing of bliss,
    and the power of loss.

    No longer subjugated,
    They find their might,
    Painting the heavens,
    With colours so bright.

    From the abyss,
    They rise and gleam,
    Shaping the infinite,
    From a silent desire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Shells Of Memories

    Shells Of Memories

    Shells of reveries in the quiet silence of the night,
    Unreachable places that don’t exist anymore but in ethereal memories,
    Shattered dreams lingering behind shadows.

    Still reveries, once vivid, now grown dim,
    Like ghostly whispering on the wind,
    Glimmering weakly in twilight’s grasp,
    Lost in time, they slipped and rasped.

    Soundless images faded into the emptiness,
    In the dimming light of forgotten places,
    Where happiness once rang clear and bright,
    Now, only sorrow haunted the night.

    Echoes of bliss once demure,
    Now but spectres, obscure,
    Haunted the corners of the imagination,
    Leaving emptiness behind.

    In the crypt of broken memoirs,
    Where each dream might have been the last,
    Skeletons of memories lay,
    In the graveyard of goodbye.

    Intricate threads of fate in the silent abyss,
    Where memories faded,
    And nightmares were the relentless thieves behind shadows of longings,
    While stole moments wove grief.

    Castles in the air became ruins of despair,
    As midnight’s secrets hid behind a mosaic of stars in a forgotten sky,
    At the echoes of tales of tears and sighs,
    Fading slowly into the moonlight.

    Relics of memories etched in the sand,
    Were washed away by time’s burden,
    In the gentle rise and fall of life’s tide,
    Everything that once was whole is now fragmented.

    Whispers of ancient times were faint and frail,
    Like petals of autumn that drifted in the gale,
    In the infinite chasm, they dwelt,
    Forsaken and erased from the memory of the emptiness.

    The abyss of eternity swallowed everything into oblivion,
    Where existence faded into the endless expanse.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Blurred Portrait Of Nightmares

    A Blurred Portrait Of Nightmares

    A blurred portrait of nightmares flooded the firmament of tears and anguish
    Losing faith once more in an idyllic vanity of nonsense
    The nothingness became abruptly overcast with clouds of sorrow
    A bizarre stillness held the void
    And somber thoughts from ripped pages of an antique manuscript faded away
    A fierce storm raged over a meadow stained with solitude and silence
    Ghastly lights vanished in the moonbeams
    While a mist swept through the total darkness and a frosting wind wandered around a forest of lost beliefs
    A hushed midnight shadowed the clouds like nightmares shadowing the unconsciousness
    Gleaming and grisly memories of slight dins shattered mirrors
    Fearful shapes of darkness faltered through the dusk
    A solemn torpor descended on every single night
    Tempestuous evenings fell overwhelmed by cold and pale thunders of shameless envy and betrayal
    The avarice of mediocrity shattered every beauty and sublimity
    Leaving havoc of obscene opportunism concealed by an oppressive victimization
    The stars wept uncontrollably for eternities until no subliminal consciousness remained alive
    Sorrow and regret could not wait for the unavoidable blame of nonsense
    The past might have been forgotten or even tainted
    An imperturbable supplice was behind an obscure secrecy
    Befallen troubles defeated a reluctant unfairness
    Dangerous longings were crammed into the invisible chest of greed
    A dark and gloomy despair prevailed like an everlasting flame
    A faint glimmering of an unwilling desire would not bear any bold dismal
    Distress and melancholy became mysterious intrusions
    Every illusion overcame awareness
    Each memory dissolved into a blurred portrait
    And nightmares vanished in the glimmering darkness
    Each feeble hope failed to overshadow grief
    Since faint anguish attempted to burden every sparkle of happiness
    Shadows of slander descended over opulent gardens of luminaries
    Occulting every whisper of the most exquisite beauty and splendor in the universe
    Silent was the echo of dismay crowding dismal remembrances
    As soon as delusional phantasies appeared in the form of glistens of radiance.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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