Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: love

  • 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

  • Flames and Stars

    Flames and Stars

    Flames and stars glazed perpetually in the realm of fire,
    Where only passions were found to blossom like crimson roses,
    With an ethereal colour and texture typical of eternal love.

    Beneath the canopy of twilight’s embrace, flames and stars swirled,
    Like feathers of fire dancing upon a sea of shadows,
    Their sighs murmured secrets that burned and blurred,
    In the rapture of night where eternity forever glows.

    The atmosphere was full of the scent of scorched desire,
    As tongues of flame entwined in a fevered caress,
    Consuming all that dared to venture higher,
    Into the inferno’s kiss, where both agony and bliss blended.

    And there, amidst the fire’s ravenous roar,
    The stars bled silver blood drops, caught in a fevered trance,
    Mirroring the desires who burned forevermore,
    In the madness of a love’s doomed dance.

    Their light wept gently, and yet it did not die,
    But melded with the flames to forge a world anew,
    Where the ashes of dreams soared to the sky,
    And hearts blazed bright, as if reborn and true.

    In that realm, no dawn could break the night’s spell,
    No winds could extinguish the ardour’s searing flames,
    For here, love’s conflagration would forever dwell,
    A kingdom where passion and pain were one and the same.

    And so, flames and stars wandered, lost within an exquisite blaze,
    Their shadows cast upon the molten ground,
    Their hearts ignited in love’s fevered haze,
    Where every beat echoed a relentless, haunting sound.

    The firestorm reached out like frantic arrows,
    Grasping at the starlit veil above,
    Yearning to escape the searing lands,
    But forever bound by the weight of love.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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 Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations stood in ruins beneath an indifferent sky,
    Its arches bent, its towers broken,
    Its promises faded away too soon.

    Winds howled through the hollowed halls,
    Where once the fate bright had shone.
    Dreams drifted like the autumn leaves,
    Long dead but never entirely gone.

    Shattered windows framed the sky,
    Where hope once rose but now fell fast.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations
    Watched as time dragged out the past.

    Its walls had held such hopes and dreams,
    But those were buried deep in stone.
    Each vow, each word, each fleeting thought,
    Eroded by time, cold and alone.

    Forgotten by the world outside,
    Its gates, once open, were now closed tight.
    A monument to loss and grief,
    It drowned in the depth of endless night.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations was a haven once,
    But like all things, it too decayed,
    Its walls were too frail to endlessly endure.

    There were relics and memories from years gone by,
    But now they were just ghosts in the air.
    Colours and glimmers, faint, like shadows passed,
    Through corridors that lead nowhere.

    A kingdom built on fragile hope,
    Now overtaken by despair.
    Every dream that once gleamed radiant now lay broken,
    Scattered everywhere.

    Vines crept over forgotten doors,
    Their tendrils strangled what remained,
    And ivy choked the marble floors,
    In time’s indifferent, endless chains.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations witnessed the love that turned to dust.
    No joy remained, no delight, no glow,
    Only fragments of misplaced trust.

    Each stone, once laid with tender hands,
    Now crumbles under sorrow’s poundage.
    The days grew long, the nights grew cold,
    And silence sealed its final fate.

    A tower, once monumental, collapsed in pain,
    Its windows were ravaged, stained with tears.
    It fell not with a roar or cry,
    But with a whisper through the years.

    The shattered castle of forsaken dreams stood now as a tomb to all that was gone,
    A hollow relic of dreams once lustrous,
    And lives that flickered out at dawn.

    No sun will rise, no dawn will break,
    No voices will call out its name.
    Only the wind will mourn its fate,
    And time will erase its fleeting flame.

    A silent ghost whose memories were too faint to be kept.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations fell to dust and ceased to exist.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Delightful Anguish

    Delightful Anguish

    Delightful anguish hid behind a mask of twisted delight,
    A paradox that ensnared the heart,
    Casting a spell on those who attempted to escape the dismay,
    The pain, exquisite, wrapped around the spirit,
    Familiar yet haunting in its embrace,
    Filling the void with a tender sadness.

    Each moment of sorrow disguised in beauty,
    Where despair changed into torment,
    The gleaming mirth intertwined with grief,
    Crafting melodies that resonated in the void,
    A haunting hymn that played on repeat,
    A serenade of loss and longing intertwined.

    Faces appeared in fleeting visions,
    Their wicked grins shone bright and dimmed by time,
    In their presence was a savoured longing,
    Each memory became a bittersweet reminder,
    Of what was cherished and what slipped away,
    The delicate balance of joy and pain.

    In quiet moments, the weight of the past descended,
    A heavy curtain draped over the spirit,
    Each sigh was loaded with the scent of regret,
    A heady mixture of nostalgia and sorrow,
    Delightful anguish blossomed in the heart’s chamber,
    Nurtured by tears that fell like rain.

    Shadows danced along the gloomy walls,
    Revealing fragile scraps of emotion thriving in darkness,
    In this sanctuary of sorrow,
    Pain transformed into captivating masterworks,
    Allowing the heart to embrace its contradictions,
    Finding beauty in the ashes of despair.

    Eventually, delightful anguish lingered,
    A monument to the complexity of mortal emotions,
    A reminder that even in sorrow, beauty thrived,
    The prom continued, a timeless waltz,
    Of loss and longing, forever entwined,
    A bittersweet journey through the maze of the heart.

    Delightful anguish wove through each thought,
    Entwining past and present in a delicate embrace,
    Where memories shimmered like fleeting stars,
    Creating a tapestry of love and loss,
    Illuminating the shadows with soft light,
    A reminder that beauty flourished amidst sorrow.

    In the quiet, hope flickered like a candle,
    Embracing the fragility of existence,
    An echo of resilience, whispering softly,
    That even in darkness, love found a way,
    To mend the fractured soul, weaving grace.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Oblivious Desires

    Oblivious Desires

    Oblivious desires hid beneath the starred sky,
    Nonsense from the clouds of voluptuous dreams,
    Becoming nightmares of an endless night spent in the labyrinth of darkness,
    Love and death were entwined like roses and thorns.

    Magic mirages were a transcendent wisp,
    Illusions faded with the breaking dawn,
    Phantasms that weathered on the edges of reality,
    Vanishing like shadows when the light was drawn.

    The moon whispered secrets to the silent sea,
    As waves crashed with a mournful melody,
    Lost souls wandered in the twilight’s embrace,
    Seeking consolation in the echoes of a forgotten cry.

    How indifferent were the stars to every earthly plight,
    Glimmering coldly in their distant domain,
    Witnessing the folly of mortal yearnings,
    As dreams dissolved into the night again.

    Oblivion embraced those who dared to dream and forget,
    In the realm where light and shadow met,
    Their desires, ephemeral as morning mist,
    Vanished in the twilight, bittersweet.

    The labyrinth’s passages recounted tales,
    Of love lost in the periods of time,
    Where roses wilted and thorns remained,
    In the garden of memories and regrets, so hauntingly sublime.

    Beneath the luminaries’ indifferent gaze,
    Hope flickered like a candle’s flame,
    Destined to be devoured by the obscurity,
    Although burning brightly anyway.

    In the end, the dusk claimed everything,
    Dreams and desires, love and strife,
    Leaving only the silence of eternity,
    In the labyrinth of the endless nights.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Haunted Clock Tower

    The Haunted Clock Tower

    The haunted clock tower arose at the edge of the small town,
    A relic from a bygone era, tall and spindly in power,
    Its shadowed spire reached towards the sky,
    Casting long, eerie shapes as the night slipped by.

    The clock, once a symbol of progress and light,
    Hung silent, its hands frozen at midnight,
    People never spoke of it, only silently,
    For it harboured a presence that chilled to the bones.

    Its interior was a maze of rust and decay,
    With oil and neglect filling the air each day,
    Narrow stairs creaked underfoot in the gloom,
    Leading to darkness where the pendulum loomed.

    At midnight, the silence would shatter and fade,
    By a faint chime that seemed distant and played,
    Cold air grew colder, and fog would seep in,
    Swirling through cracks where the old clock had been.

    As the final chime echoed through the night,
    A ghostly figure appeared in the dim light,
    Dressed in a flowing gown, with fair hair,
    Their dark, gloomy eyes stared through the air.

    Among these ghouls was the spirit of a young maid,
    Who loved the clockmaker, but fate betrayed,
    She leapt from the tower, her grief bound tight,
    Her soul was forever cursed to haunt the stormy night.

    Tales told of her form in the windows seen,
    Her longing eyes and sorrowful sheen,
    Her voice on the wind, a chilling, soft cry,
    The tower’s gears groaned as if to reply.

    Brave wanderers ventured in at the witching hour,
    Felt an overwhelming despair, a ghostly power,
    Saw glimpses of her flicker, a spectral flight,
    The chime of the clock brought shivers of fright.

    At dawn, she would fade, and the silence would return,
    The clock stood still, its message unturned,
    A sombre reminder of love and hope lost to time,
    Her haunting presence became an echo in rhyme.

    The folks did not dare approach but kept their distance,
    Avoiding the haunted clock tower with spectral persistence.
    Some spirits were bound too deep to ever find peace,
    Their sorrow remained, and their echoes never ceased.
    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

  • Foggy Nights

    Foggy Nights

    Foggy nights had shrouded the moon’s pale face,
    Whispers of mist had woven through the air,
    Silent streets had been glazed with a ghostly trace,
    A world of shadows had become a hidden and rare realm.

    Lamp posts had flickered with a subdued light,
    Cloaked in different shades of black, blue, and grey, while the towns had slept,
    Noises had echoed, faint and renewed,
    In the fog, every secret had been kept and never revealed.

    Dreams had drifted in the haze as unknown visions,
    Fear and wonder had intertwined,
    In a realm of silence and solitude,
    Foggy nights had been shining mysteries.

    Windows had glowed with muffled lights,
    Shapes had moved softly as undefined geometries,
    Every sound had been a breathless fright,
    On foggy nights, where time had been unlimited.

    The past had emerged, lost in a grey mist,
    Forgotten whispers, fleeting, near,
    Old memories, like ghosts, had replayed,
    On foggy nights, they had reappeared.

    Each corner had held a hidden tale,
    Of love, of sorrow, left behind,
    On foggy nights, where voices had trailed,
    In the mist, their secrets had become bound.

    Lonely souls had wandered the veil,
    Seeking solace in the gloom,
    Foggy nights, where shadows had sailed,
    Through the twilight’s quiet chamber.

    Cloaked figures had drifted through the haze,
    Their faces had been lost, their stories untold,
    Through foggy nights, they had wandered in a daze,
    In this eerie silence, they had been bold.

    Cobblestones had glistened underfoot,
    Each step a whisper, soft and light,
    In the fog, they had sought what had been forgotten,
    Chasing echoes through the night.

    Creeping ivy had embraced old walls,
    Silent sentinels of time gone by,
    On foggy nights, the past had recalled,
    Whispering secrets to the sky.

    Phantom sighs in the alleyways,
    Guided by the moon’s faint glow,
    In the stillness of the foggy maze,
    A timeless prom, slow and low.

    Ancient oaths and broken vows,
    Hidden deep in the fog’s embrace,
    On foggy nights, they had whispered now,
    Lingering in every haunted place.

    From night to dawn, the fog had remained,
    A veil that had wrapped the town in lore,
    Foggy nights, where time had abstained,
    And mysteries had reigned forevermore.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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