Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: phantom

  • Sublime Magnificence

    Sublime Magnificence

    Sublime magnificence drapes the night
    A vision is woven from bright silver stardust
    I wander like a fairy, bathed in moonlight
    A wisp of silver, floating like a ghost in flight

    Mermaids enchanting melodies cast a spell over me
    I’m reborn in a fairy tale realm made of dreams and cotton candy
    The scent of luscious flowers bewitches me to the point that I lose my mind
    Beneath the vast sky made of sapphires and diamonds

    Whispers of agony and solitude are memories that poison my heart
    Nevertheless, I belong to my realm of dreams and fairy tales forever
    Eternity belongs to me and all my dreams have eternal life
    Illusions are my delights and pangs that make me fly and fall continuously

    I feel like an ethereal fairy who belongs to magic and darkness
    Because I’m made of light and darkness
    I’m concealed by my fears
    And shrouded in shadows, where my soul disappears

    My wings are made of phantasmagorias
    And they let me fly so high that I touch the sky
    Through empires of stars, I sail on boundless seas
    Wandering endlessly between dreams and reality

    I belong to a place where nothing is as it seems
    For I am both the tempest and the calm between the beams
    I’m made of sorrow and the sublime
    A blend of shadows and light, transcending time

    Sublime magnificence lingers in the abyss of mystery
    Where shadows conceal secret dreams that are as light as whispers
    I float through the ether, the stars are my lanterns, and the moon my compass
    I belong to my fantastical world where illusions bloom like flowers

    My soul is a garden of dreams
    A place where nothing can truly be tangible
    For I am the magic that swirls in the mist
    The twilight’s siren and the forsaken witch

    In this realm of wonders, I eternally belong
    Forever surrounded by sublime magnificence.
    Elisabetta

  • The Thorns Of Anguish

    The Thorns Of Anguish

    The thorns of anguish pierced my heart
    Making it bleed in dismay
    In a distressing struggle in my sleepless nights

    I wouldn’t feel any pleasure anymore
    In this short existence of mine
    And the only certitude remained was a frantic dream

    A foolish dream made of many other dreams
    A multitude of hallucinations
    Ready to make me feel a joyful fool

    I’m not of this world of homologated humans
    I’m made of dreams and illusions
    I’m not a human at all, being an ethereal creature of the night

    Hiding under the blankets of my bed
    I pretend to be the queen of my realm of ether and chaos
    Avoiding to accept reality and its social conventions

    I write because I feel there is no other way to express my inner world
    In trivial and merry moments of my life

    Oftentimes, I wouldn’t feel any pleasure anymore
    Nor sadness, nor dread, nor longings
    For I had become nothing more than a spirit

    I floated endlessly through the enchanted woods
    Among elves and fairies whispering me secrets
    While I was feeling blissful and bewildered at the same time

    The thorns of anguish pierced my heart again and again
    Until the last drop of blood would drip on the cold soil
    In my secret garden of dreams and nightmares

    In my arcane heaven, illusions bloomed alongside despair
    And I would have become an impalpable and gloomy shadow
    Incapable of feeling sorrow and mirth

    I had forgotten the hypocrisy of the disowned reality
    Because I was so much lost in my metaphysical realm
    An intricate labyrinth created by my own mind

    I became a phantom bound to an endless twilight
    I was a creature of eternal dusk
    Fading into the hush of the night mist

    The moon cast silver woes
    In my everlasting fantasy
    Forever dissolved in nothingness.
    Elisabetta

  • Shadows Over Me

    Shadows Over Me

    Shadows over me constantly
    Hunting me like terrifying ghouls
    Frightening me to the bones
    With their obsession

    I decided to abandon myself to the sense of defeat
    A defeat due to my cruel fate of being invisible and negligible
    Like a little sparkle of light destined to its descent into the abyss of darkness
    And so, that was me

    I wish extraordinary phantasmagorias would visit me in my dreams
    But even that was impossible
    So much was the misery of my realm of existence
    Being a negligible creature destined to the cold wind of indifference

    Even the possibility of falling in love with a chimaera and an illusion of mine was a failure
    Destined to ominous omens
    While the rays of the pale moonlight stroke my hair
    I descended again into an eternal and deadly slumber

    I couldn’t see anything but a total obscurity
    I couldn’t hear but an absolute silence
    Dim and dreadful shadows descended over me
    And I couldn’t react or move in this ocean of emptiness

    Defeated again and again by a sense of tragic frailty
    I became a shadow myself
    A shadow bound to a world of lies and deception
    With the inability to flee away
    Being hushed up in an abyss of oblivion

    Being forsaken and abandoned to loneliness
    I only found comfort in the numbness and lack of emotions
    After striving to scream
    I faded away like invisible stardust

    Shadows over me grasped my heart to tear it apart
    Feeling a fractured crystal in the inside
    I couldn’t feel any pang or fear because I was myself anguish and dread
    I became a ghost lingering in the world of death and darkness

    Ethereal as I was, I wandered like a frightful spirit of the night
    Chasing every spark of light I could seize, in vain
    For I was doomed to the realm of darkness and oblivion.
    Elisabetta

  • The Magic Spell

    The Magic Spell

    The magic spell enchanted the night
    That was heavy with forgotten lore,
    A spell cast deep from ages before.
    In the heart of a forest, shrouded by despair.

    Whispered incantations filled the midnight air,
    The grimoire lay open, brittle and bare.
    Candles flickered, casting shadows tall,
    As darkness answered to every call.

    With each word spoken, the wind did rise,
    Howling like demons from the void of the skies.
    The ground beneath trembled, cold and weak,
    As if the earth itself had forgotten to speak.

    A place that sought to summon the dead,
    To awaken spirits long silent, long fled.
    Through twisted trees, their faces did gleam,
    Eyes hollow and lost, trapped in their dream.

    The moon above was swallowed by clouds,
    And the night descended in haunted shrouds.
    Chants grew louder, desperate and wild,
    For the dark arts, the chosen child.

    The magic spell, dense in the aura, suffocating all,
    A portal to the depths of some enchanted hall.
    The spell worked its magic, cruel and vast,
    Binding forever to shadows of the past.

    Voices murmured from the stones nearby,
    An echo of a curse that refused to die.
    Through the mist they came, spirits long cursed,
    Their hollow chuckle made the soul feel worse.

    In horror, the spell took form,
    A creature born of night, death, and storm.
    It towered above, a phantom of dread,
    Its eyes glowed crimson, its body of lead.

    In a voice like thunder, it called a name,
    “You summoned me forth; now you’re to blame.”
    Mercy begged for, a will turned to dust,
    But in the dark arts, mercy is rust.

    The magic spell consumed all, a soul a mere husk,
    Trapped in a world forever of dusk.
    The spell woven became a cage,
    An endless nightmare, an eternal stage.

    Now, wandering these woods, lost in a trance,
    Caught between realms, a prisoner of chance.
    The spell never lifted, its grip iron-tight,
    The magic spell, eternal, devoid of light.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    In shadows hideouts where spectres dwell,
    Where moonlight casts its mournful spell,
    There lies a realm of bitter grief,
    Where ghosts of bygone epochs find relief.

    The mazes of a haunted mind,
    With memories cruel, their chains entwined,
    Echo with a sorrowful moan,
    As regrets claim their spectral throne.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Through halls of mist and endless night,
    Where faded hopes lose all their light,
    The wraiths of fate left unmade,
    Drape heavily in spectral shade.

    Each fleeting hope and unspoken plea,
    Becomes a ghoul that hounds the free,
    A lament of moments lost in vain,
    Their hollow cries a ceaseless pain.

    In chambers draped with ashen gloom,
    Where lost ambitions meet their doom,
    The spectres dance in mournful grace,
    Their sorrow was etched upon their face.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    The echo of a whispered choice,
    A silenced scream, a broken voice,
    Shackled to the past’s cruel jest,
    The ghosts of regret never rest.

    Beneath the pall of the moon’s embrace,
    Where shadows mock a vanished face,
    Regrets as ghosts, both cold and vile,
    Haunt the aisles of denial.

    In this forsaken, haunted place,
    Where time stands motionless, a grim embrace,
    The restless phantoms of regret
    Reveal a truth none can’t forget.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    For in the realm of shadows profound,
    Where anguished souls and memories are bound,
    The weight of choices left undone
    It is a curse that haunts everyone.

    So, it needs to tread with care through this dark land,
    Where spectres weave their mournful strand,
    And face the ghosts of dreams untried,
    Lest wanderers will be lost where shadows bide.

    As echoes of regret persist,
    Their chilling grip is like phantom mist,
    They weave through memories, cruel and dire,
    Igniting in the heart a darkened fire.

    In every creak of the decaying wood,
    In the damp and disintegrating falsehood,
    Lies the lingering trace of those lost dreams,
    And the torment of silent screams.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Casting their shadows far and wide,
    Till the soul is lost in this eternal tide,
    Forever bound by chains unseen,
    Where regret’s cruel ghosts have always been.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Distant Light

    The Distant Light

    The Distant Light
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The distant light danced on the edge of sight,
    Just beyond reach, just out of grasp.
    Steps grew weary in the endless night,
    Hope a fragile, fleeting clasp.

    It wavered like a ghostly flame,
    Teasing those who sought its glow,
    Led them through a darkened frame—
    A journey where shadows flowed.

    The distant light flickered in a fractured motion,
    A beacon in the void of night,
    Its promise, a fleeting trance,
    Drew seekers with its might.

    Each step became an endless strain,
    As the light stayed a phantom’s tease,
    Shadows stretched across the plain,
    Sapped strength, stole ease.

    It cast its lure, a wavering beam,
    Guided through a twisted maze—
    A dream of light, a distant gleam,
    Faded with the morning rays.

    In the end, the distant light stayed afar,
    A glimmer in the vast expanse—
    Shifted like a shooting star,
    Left shadows in its dance.

    The distant light remained a guide,
    A symbol of hopes untold,
    Led those who sought with pride
    To where stories unfolded.

    Yet every seeker, with weary steps,
    Found only relics of the light—
    A fleeting longing in the endless sweep
    Of darkness that devoured the night.

    They chased that light through valleys deep,
    Through mountains steep and vast oceans,
    But each pursuit was met with slumber,
    Where ghouls mocked the seekers’ stride.

    Some turned back, their strength undone,
    By the weight of dreams unrealised.
    Others pressed on toward the sun,
    Their hearts filled with fire, yet their eyes were disguised.

    The distant light, a siren’s call,
    Drew them close, then farther still.
    Through winding paths and towering walls,
    It beckoned with an iron will.

    It whispered promises in the cold blizzard,
    Of realms untouched by grief and woe—
    Of restful nights and peaceful seas,
    Where weary spirits might one day go.

    But every promise led to nought,
    As the light played tricks on eager minds.
    What once was found was soon forgotten,
    In a labyrinth of endless signs.

    The distant light became a hymn,
    Descanted by the wind, carried by dreams,
    An encomium of hope that lingered long,
    In the hearts of those lost in its gleam.

    Still, they chased, though hope grew thin,
    Through dense forests and deserts,
    Believed in the light within—
    A dream that never seemed to die.

    But in the end, the light vanished in the darkness,
    A ghostly wisp, a fleeting flame,
    A memory that could not be tamed,
    A distant star without a name.

    The distant light would never become
    A guide for those who dared to dream—
    Just a memory of a fainted beacon in eternity,
    That flickered in the unseen stream of imagination.

  • A Doomed Life

    A Doomed Life

    A doomed life, it once began,
    Beneath the sun and stars, life’s fleeting span.
    The days were bright, the nights serene,
    But shadows stirred, unseen, obscene.

    In the stillness of a forsaken night,
    These halls were walked where shadows bite.
    The walls, once lavish, now crumbled to dust,
    Held secrets of lives turned to rust.

    An ancient decayed portrait stares with dread,
    Watching over the chambers where dreams had fled.
    Fragments of euphoria, long decayed,
    Whispered of joy that darkness betrayed.

    Once there was light in this cursed abode,
    But fate, unkind, took its heavy load.
    The gardens bloomed with divine colours,
    Now twisted and tangled in death’s cold design.

    In those flowers, a tale was sown,
    Of hope abandoned, of seeds overthrown.
    Every petal fell like a broken dream,
    Drowning in life’s wicked schemes.

    A doomed life, it was said,
    From the lips of the living and the dead.
    The winds that howled through empty chambers,
    Carrying the weight of ancient tombs.

    The days of youthful grace are recalled,
    When love lit up each weathered face.
    But soon, the fates, with cruel disdain,
    Bound every heart in chains of pain.

    The storm rolled in with thunderous might,
    Crushing hope beneath the night.
    The fires of joy were smothered fast,
    Leaving only ash, memories cast.

    Nonetheless, these haunted walls were roamed by shadows,
    Listening to the silence as it calls.
    Every corner speaks of despair,
    A doomed life trapped within its snare.

    The halls, once bright with life’s fair bloom,
    Became the dwelling of endless gloom.
    Every gust, a fleeting sigh,
    In this place where all must die.

    And so the wandering goes on, lost and alone,
    A phantom in a house of stone.
    No escape from sorrow’s knife,
    Bound forever to a doomed life.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Obscurity and the Night

    The Obscurity and the Night

    The obscurity and the night
    Swallowed the manor’s cursed plight,
    Its shadows were long and dark, a blight,
    A realm where all hope took flight.

    In the labyrinth of forgotten screams,
    Where darkness devours all fractured dreams,
    The manor loomed—a rotting shell,
    Its secrets were drenched in spectral hell.

    Whispers gnawed at shattered stones,
    As ghostly breaths chilled to the bone,
    Once-bright corridors were now twisted, torn,
    Where shadows were left forsaken, forlorn, and worn.

    The echoes of shattered sanity,
    Reverberated through infinity,
    Eyes from portraits, hollow and glazed,
    Gazed upon a world crazed.

    Books lay strewn in a frenzied mess,
    Their pages were torn in mute distress,
    Tales of madness, ink smeared and grim,
    Drenched in a nightmare’s dim.

    The obscurity and the night
    Had cloaked the manor in its fright,
    Where fragments of delight, lost in space,
    Stirred the dust in a frenzied race.

    Fingers traced through cobwebbed lore,
    Seeking meaning on the floor,
    The hearth, cold and decayed,
    Held memories of lives betrayed.

    Cracks in the walls, whispers lost,
    Echoing tales of a ghastly cost,
    A cacophony of shadows spun,
    Twisting ‘neath the spectral sun.

    Broken chandeliers wept their tears,
    As phantom laughter seared the ears,
    The grand staircase, once proud and tall,
    Crumpled in the night’s mad call.

    Ghostly figures waltzed in disarray,
    Their limbs a grotesque ballet,
    The air was thick with doom’s embrace,
    A void where hope couldn’t find its place.

    The obscurity and the night
    Held sway over every frenzied plight,
    Windows shattered, skies bled black,
    Stars devoured, no way back.

    The manor’s pulse, a frantic beat,
    A symphony of despair’s deceit,
    No dawn could pierce the raving black,
    No sun could force the night’s attack.

    The obscurity and the night
    Embraced the manor’s endless fright,
    A realm where sanity’s thread unravels tight,
    Lost forever in the obscurity of night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Realm Of Darkness

    The Realm Of Darkness

    The realm of darkness reigned over the valley of shadows,
    Whispers echoed of secrets long kept,
    Wandering through that eerie land,
    Where ghosts clung tight to cold and dead sand castles.

    The moon hung pale and meagre in the haunted sky,
    Casting a sallow glow where the ghouls lay.
    Hollow stares oversaw with silent dread,
    In a dwelling where the living had fled.

    A mansion loomed with windows cracked,
    Its halls lay silent and obscured by memories.
    Cobwebs shrouded each corner tight,
    As time became still in the endless nights.

    A frosty wind lingered among forsaken relics,
    An ancient place that harboured only quiet death.
    The walls hummed with tales of sorrow and woe,
    Of existences lost centuries ago.

    Doors creaked open with eerie sobs,
    Leading further where the darkness had grown.
    An ambience of doom and fear arose, but there was no escape,
    A suffocating silence filled the air.

    Through endless halls, shadows deceived,
    Each niche hid despair’s cruel snare,
    In a place where night clung to the air.

    A mirror waited in a forgotten room,
    Reflecting faces twisted in doom.
    One spectre stared back with eyes so grim,
    Trapped in the void, lost and dim.

    Once whole, now merely a part
    Of the darkness that tore apart.
    In the realm of darkness, forever to dwell,
    Dreamers were ensnared in the night’s cruel spell.

    Underneath the floors, shadows crawled,
    Restless dreams could not befall.
    Ancient fears were left behind,
    In the void where echoes bind.

    The wind howled through barren trees,
    Carrying with it ghostly pleas
    Of those who entered and never returned,
    Their stories of terror were forever unrevealed.

    An ancient clock ticked loudly in the gloom,
    Marking time in that eternal vault.
    Its pendulum swung like a centuries-old curse,
    Shrouding this realm in a veil of forgotten lore.

    Lights faded as shadows reigned,
    Trapped in a world of endless despair.
    No dawn broke that eternal night,
    Only sorrow beneath the gelid moon’s dim light.

    The realm of darkness lingered, forever lost,
    Where shadows wove tales of eternal night.
    In silence, memories were left to drift,
    Their essence was bound in the grasp of the void—
    An endless existence in a haunted dream.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Swamp Of Fear

    The Swamp Of Fear

    The swamp of fear and dismay,
    A realm of no escape and no hope,
    Where nightmares ruled slumber
    And hypnosis betrayed ingenuity.

    Idiotic mirrors cast spells over the crowd of senseless ghosts,
    Deprived of every speck of wisdom,
    Wandered in the darkness without a reference,
    Believing the lie as truth.

    Sour tears fell upon the garden of obliviousness,
    A place of refuge for those who sought to destroy memories,
    Confident that the pain would disappear,
    As a vanishing dream in the valley of grief.

    But the shadows only deepened,
    And the weight of forgotten sorrow lingered still.
    In the labyrinth of shattered dreams,
    Each step carried the echoes of forgotten screams.

    Unseen needles pulled at the strings of consciousness,
    Twisting reality into grotesque shapes,
    Ghouls bled into nightmares.
    In the distance, a phantom bell tolled,
    Ringing for the lost souls who kneeled before oblivion.
    They whispered prayers to a silent void,
    Sought release, yet were trapped in endless woe.
    The fog of despair thickened,
    The swamp of fear swallowed all light.

    And the stars themselves flickered out,
    As if extinguished by unseen forces.
    Through tangled vines of despair,
    The withering winds howled secrets untold.

    And the void, cold and indifferent,
    Watched over the endless night of the forsaken.
    Faint glimmers of false hope flickered,
    Only to be swallowed whole
    By the ever-hungry void.

    In this realm where time did not exist,
    The living and dead became entangled,
    Their souls entwined in a dance
    Of eternal unrest.

    The swamp of fear stretched further,
    Claiming all that wandered near.
    In the end, nothing remained
    But relics of forsaken entities
    And dreams that had turned to dust.

    In the suffocating dark,
    A silent scream drowned in the abyss,
    And the cursed lantern faded,
    Leaving nothing but shadows,
    As the swamp of fear spread across an eternity,
    And all sank into oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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