Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: memory

  • Shattered Expectations

    Shattered Expectations

    Shattered expectations lay heavy,
    Upon a once-bright horizon,
    Casting gloom over whispered promises,
    Dreams shattered like fragile glass,
    Each shard reflected unrealised aspirations,
    Their brilliance was dulled by the sting of reality.

    In an instant of fracture,
    The future darkened with despair,
    The heartfelt, sharp sting of disillusionment,
    Every step forward met with waves of grief,
    Dragging the spirit into a pit of sorrow,
    Where hope became a distant memory.

    The sky was loaded with clouds and forgotten ambitions,
    Each gust of wind was a reminder of paths diverged,
    Faces that once gleamed with potential,
    Now, they wore masks of resignation,
    Eyes clouded with the weight of disappointment,
    The spark of hope extinguished too soon.

    Time, relentless in its march,
    Became a cruel companion,
    Each tick of the clock was a reminder
    Of the opportunities that slipped away,
    Moments scattered like shards of mirrors,
    Reflecting the painful truth of what could have been.

    In this desolation, nefarious thoughts persisted,
    What had been could never be reclaimed,
    The world spun on, indifferent to grief,
    Each sunrise bore the weight of shattered dreams,
    And a quiet acceptance began to take root,
    Acknowledging that some dreams were never meant to flourish.

    Amid the gloom of bygone days,
    Traces of forsaken desires lingered,
    A haunting reminder of what was lost,
    And even in the depths of hope,
    No flicker of resilience could have sparked,
    Leaving only shadows where dreams once thrived.

    Shattered expectations became remote relics,
    As the heart learned to wander through the darkness,
    Searching for echoes in a desolate chamber,
    Where shadows coiled like serpents of despair.

    Each bit of void swallowed oppressively in silence,
    And dreams, like spectres, faded into the gloom,
    In the quietness, a haunting sorrow lingered.

    In shadows, regret festered,
    A reminder of lost prospects,
    Trapped in a labyrinth of misery.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dead Desires

    Dead Desires

    Dead desires lingered like ghosts,
    Hovering over ruins of faded aspirations,
    The giggles of delight that once filled the air turned to despair,
    A reminder of desires that withered away,
    Like autumn leaves crumbling into dust,
    Beneath the weight of relentless time.

    In the stillness of forsaken dreams,
    Shadows swirled under the tree of hopes that once thrived,
    Weaving through remnants of a forgotten past,
    Each piece of yearning faded into the void,
    As the heart’s vibrant ache succumbed to silence,
    Lost in the echoes of what could have been.

    Days, once painted in vivid hues,
    Became shrouded in muted greys,
    Each moment became a cruel reminder,
    Of warmth that slipped through fingers,
    The chill of time’s cruel embrace
    Froze every hope into lifelessness.

    A single tear traced a path down a cheek,
    Carrying the burden of unfulfilled wishes,
    The heart, once a vessel of fervour,
    Now beat with a hollow rhythm,
    A metronome marking unachieved desires,
    Each tick resonated with loss.

    Dead desires drifted like fallen leaves,
    Words unspoken, deeply felt,
    In the stillness, they hung heavy,
    As the moon illuminated the decay of hope,
    Scattering dreams like ashes in the wind,
    Leaving only shadows of what had been.

    As twilight approached, the air grew colder,
    Each breath was a reminder of dreams abandoned,
    The heart ached for the fire it once held,
    Now, only embers remained,
    Smouldering in the corners of a darkened soul,
    A monument to the dead desires that lingered on.

    In the quiet corners of memory,
    The shadows whispered tales of longing,
    The paths not taken became a haunting refrain,
    As the heart learned to dwell in the silence,
    Embracing the sorrow that filled the void,
    Finding beauty in the ashes of dreams.

    Dead desires echoed through the aisles of time,
    A haunting melody of what might have been,
    Reverberating through the deepest depths of the abyss,
    And, in their sight, the heart understood,
    That within each ember lay a spark of hope,
    A reminder that even in loss, tragedy can unveil meaning.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Delving into the Darkness

    Delving into the Darkness

    Delving into the darkness, where shadows twist and writhe,
    A step beyond the threshold, a journey far from light.
    The whispers of the void grew louder, filled with grief,
    A world devoid of hope, where none could find relief.

    Once, there was a spark of life, a flame that dared to burn,
    But here, in this forgotten place, all flames refuse to return.
    The walls of night drew closer still, their cold embrace suffused,
    And in the pit of nothingness, my soul became unloosed.

    Delving into the darkness, the air turned full of dread,
    Each breath a hollow gasp, the weight of dreams long dead.
    The earth beneath my feet felt cold, a tomb of silent stone,
    The echoes of my footsteps—whispers of the unknown.

    No cries were left to utter, no tear to break the gloom,
    I merged with every shadow, a phantom of the vault.
    The ground no longer held me firm, nor the sky above my head,
    For in this void, I ceased to be—the living, now the dead.

    Delving into the darkness, all senses were soon lost,
    Time stretched into infinity at an unfathomable cost.
    The shell that once embraced my warmth was now cold, fragile, racked,
    The spirit that defined my being faded, lost, and sacked.

    A figure of a forgotten entity, I wandered through the shade,
    My name, my face, my history, all memories decayed.
    The world beyond had faded, its contours out of sight,
    And in this endless chasm, I vanished from the light.

    Delving into the darkness until there’s nothing more,
    A silhouette upon the void, unseen by any shore.
    I am the night, the silence, the fear within your chest,
    A remnant of a world erased, an eternal, restless guest.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Ghost of Death

    The Ghost of Death

    The ghost of death had lingered near,
    A shadow cast in whispered fear.
    In silent rooms where memories lay,
    It watched as life slipped slowly away.

    It moved like mist, so cold, so pale,
    Through empty halls, a mournful wail.
    With each breath, the living took in fright,
    Echoed through the deepening night.

    The ghost had beckoned with hollow eyes,
    Inviting souls to bid their goodbyes.
    A figure cloaked in sorrow’s shroud,
    It walked among the restless crowd.

    A desperate heart had sensed its call,
    Feeling the weight of the final fall.
    In darkened corners, whispers grew,
    Of destinies sealed, of fates, they knew.

    When face to face, the ghost did smile,
    An eerie calm that stretched a mile.
    No threat it posed, no anger burned,
    Just a quiet truth that must be learned.

    The ghost of death, in silence, spoke,
    Of lives once bright, now just a cloak.
    It showed the beauty in the decay,
    And how each end gave birth today.

    The final breath was not the end,
    But a turning point, a chance to mend.
    In acceptance, there lay a grace,
    As life transformed, it embraced its place.

    The ghost receded, its duty done,
    Leaving behind what must be spun.
    In the quiet, the living sighed,
    Knowing well, they’d never indeed died.

    For life’s a cycle, a gentle sweep,
    Where shadows linger but do not keep.
    And in that space where fears once crept,
    The ghost of death watched over and wept.

    In twilight’s grasp, where echoes fade,
    The ghost of death, a silent blade.
    It whispered softly of lives once bright,
    Of dreams lost to the endless night.

    However, within its gaze, a flicker shone,
    A reminder that love could not be gone.
    For every soul, though bound to part,
    Leaves a legacy within the heart.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden pains stirred in the depths of her soul,
    Unspoken whispers, shadows that stole
    Her every breath, her every cry,
    In the cold abyss where dreams go to die.
    She wandered through halls that none dared to tread,
    Where the air was thick with things unsaid.
    Ghosts of memories shattered and torn,
    Clung to the walls like a rose’s thorn.

    Her hands reached out to grasp what was lost,
    But time had ravaged at too high a cost.
    The weight of sins, unspoken and deep,
    Bound her in chains too heavy to keep.
    In every corner, her soul did strain,
    Against the shackle of forbidden pains.

    The windows, once bright with a hopeful light,
    Now mirrored only the eternal night.
    Her voice, a whisper drowned in the wind,
    Echoed the loss of all she’d have aligned.
    The halls grew tighter, the air grew thin,
    Trapped in a labyrinth of guilt and din.
    Her heart beat slow, her breath drew fast,
    A prisoner to memories that couldn’t last.

    She stumbled through visions of what could have been,
    Her reflection was a ghost on the glass so thin.
    Shattered pieces of who she once was
    Lay scattered in fragments, lost in the cause.
    Each step she took was a cry of despair,
    Forbidden pains whispered through the air.

    The portraits wept as she passed by,
    Eyes dark as the sorrow in the sky.
    The doors creaked open, but none let her flee,
    For her past had built the walls of this sea.
    No salvation in sight, no escape from the chains,
    Only the endless weight of forbidden pains.

    At last, she stood on the edge of her fate,
    A shadow waiting at the midnight gate.
    The stars blinked out one by one,
    As her soul unravelled, the thread undid.
    Forbidden pains, her eternal refrain,
    Echoed forever in sorrow’s domain.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Withering Tree

    The Withering Tree

    The Withering Tree
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The withering tree stood bare amidst the wood,
    Its branches once reached for skies long gone.
    Leaves had fallen where they proudly stood,
    Resilience faded with each new dawn.

    Its trunk was gnarled, scarred by time,
    Rooted deep in forsaken earth.
    It had struggled to grasp a fleeting rhyme
    Of seasons past and vanished mirth.

    Winter winds had howled through its limbs,
    Shaking loose the last of pride.
    Each gust was a reminder of forgotten hymns
    In the cold where warmth had died.

    Spring had brought no buds from its bark,
    No whispers of renewal’s grace.
    The withering tree remained stark in the dark,
    A witness to nature’s cruel embrace.

    Summer’s sun had bypassed its boughs,
    Casting shadows on its forlorn frame.
    While life thrived in neighbouring crowds,
    The tree had stood still, devoid of flame.

    Autumn had arrived, but no colours blazed—
    They had long since faded away.
    The withering tree had endured in a sombre daze,
    A symbol of endless, silent decay.

    The ground beneath it had cracked and dried,
    No rain to quench its thirsty roots.
    Silent beneath an empty sky,
    Where once it had borne green shoots.

    Each storm that passed had left no mark;
    Its branches swayed but never bent.
    The tree had remained a hollow arc,
    Its growth and life long spent.

    It stood as a sombre sight,
    A monument to forgotten days.
    Its vibrant leaves had lost their light,
    In a landscape shrouded by decay’s haze.

    As seasons changed and years went by,
    The tree became a ghostly shade.
    Its story whispered to the sky,
    In silence, where it slowly decayed.

    In the forest where it once reigned,
    The withering tree’s memory waned—
    A symbol of time’s relentless strain,
    Where life’s echoes had long been drained.

  • The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The broken mirror reflected a fractured world,
    Facades twisted in the distant light,
    The truth was lost as reflections swirled,
    Clarity faded into the night.

    Each crack told tales of dreams once whole,
    Fragments were part of a distorted show,
    Sighs echoed from the secret dwellings of fractured souls,
    In the broken mirror’s shadowed glow.

    Silvered edges framed distorted scenes,
    A face with sights that could not be seen,
    Reflections trapped in shattered visions,
    Lost within chaotic reverie.

    The silvery glass spoke in muted, splintered tones,
    Revealing truths twisted and blurred,
    A thousand shards held silent moans,
    Where broken images remained unheard.

    Each piece held a sliver of the past,
    A memory splintered and unclear,
    In the mirror’s grasp, shadows cast,
    Untangling what was once held dear.

    Fractured light created a maze,
    A labyrinth of tales left untold,
    In this mirror’s cryptic haze,
    The past’s reflection turned cold.

    A portrait shattered by unseen hands,
    Happiness’s tales lost in grief’s embrace,
    Mirrored fragments dispersed across lands,
    Of broken hopes and shattered dreams.

    The broken mirror remained a cryptic guide,
    A map of what was lost and found,
    In its shards, the truth tried to hide,
    Within a maze where secrets were concealed.

    Every shard held a story half-told,
    A glimpse into lives that had been,
    In the mirror’s shattered, fractured folds,
    Dwelled memories of what was once seen.

    The surface, once clear, now lay in pieces,
    A burst image of days gone by,
    The obliterated mirror retained its silent secrets,
    In fragments where shadows still lie.

    As the pieces lay scattered and cold,
    The reflections faded out of view,
    In the broken mirror’s cryptic hold,
    The past’s echoes bid farewell.

  • Secret Longings

    Secret Longings

    Secret Longings
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    In shadows deep where silence reigned,
    I wandered once, with hopes long feigned.
    My heart, a vault of secret fires,
    Bore dreams that time and grief conspired.
    A whisper lost within the night,
    I sought the stars’ elusive light.
    But every step, though soft and slow,
    Led further from what I would know.

    The walls of time grew thick with dread,
    Encasing all that once was said.
    Beneath the luminaries, a ghostly plea,
    I carved my name on a memory tree.
    Yet winds would blow, and dust would rise,
    To hide the truths behind my eyes.
    A gaze that lingered, filled with thirst,
    But never quenched, forever cursed.

    For there, within the hidden keep,
    Where shadows walked, and spirits wept,
    I found the longing, dark and cold,
    A hunger profound, too strong, too old.
    A silence hung like mourning’s shroud,
    And in its grip, my head was bowed.
    What secrets stirred within the stone,
    Were mine to carry, mine alone.

    The fleeting glimmer of what might,
    Lay far beyond my dimming sight.
    Yet still, I chased that phantom light,
    Through endless corridors of night.
    The taste of dreams, so near, so far,
    It was lost beneath a darkened star.
    And all that once seemed close, so clear,
    Became a distant echo near.

    In those long halls, where stillness crept,
    The shadows deepened as I wept.
    For what is longing but despair,
    A wish that dies upon the air?
    And though I sought with all my will,
    The void within grew immensely still.
    Each corner turned, each door I passed,
    Led further from the truth at last.

    And now, those fires once bright, once warm,
    Are cold, mere embers in the storm.
    The yearning that consumed my days,
    Fades slowly in the endless maze.
    No solace waits beyond this door,
    Only echoes, nothing more.
    And so, I wander, lost in thought,
    A ghost with longings left to fraught.

  • The Eerie Mirage

    The Eerie Mirage

    The eerie mirage appeared on a moonlit night,
    An illusion born of darkness and dreams,
    Where reality frayed at the seams,
    Revealing shadows that swirled with fright.

    It shimmered through the midnight mist,
    Dancing figures hid behind dark clouds,
    Elusive shapes in spectral form,
    Moved through the eerie, spectral storm.

    The eerie mirage had glided across the shadowed land,
    A transcendental waltz, both feeble and grand,
    Its ethereal light had cast a spectral glow,
    Disclosing secrets that the night would know.

    Eerie mirages of an era bygone merged with the darkness,
    Shadows wandered,
    Faint apparitions of a vanished time,
    Drifted beneath the obsidian sky.

    Memories of remote realms had merged,
    With the mirage’s haunting allure,
    Phantoms had tilted through the misty haze,
    Lost in a dreamlike, spectral maze.

    The moon’s cold light, a silvery hue,
    Bathed the mirage in an ethereal view,
    A reflection of the past’s embrace,
    In every shimmering, fleeting trace.

    Mysteries of ancient, untold tales,
    Had been dragged by the midnight gales,
    Breathing life into the spectral scene,
    Where illusions had vanished, both delightful and obscene.

    In that eerie mirage, the past had altered,
    With glooms that would never end,
    Wraiths belonging to eternal nights,
    Caught between the dark and light.

    The eerie mirage, a transient ghostly essence,
    Had cast its spell in the realm of death,
    A vision of what could never exist,
    In the haunting depths of arcane dreams.

    As dawn approached, the mirage waned,
    Its spectral shapes, now faint and strained,
    Had remained echoes of its ghastly flight,
    In the stillness of the night.

    The supernatural illusion disappeared,
    As a fading whisper and a distant spell,
    Dwelling only in memory’s misty veil,
    The eerie mirage did prevail.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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

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