Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: poem in English

  • I Wanted To See What Was Not Real

    I Wanted To See What Was Not Real

    I Wanted To See What Was Not Real

    I wanted to see what was not real
    I swam in the deep waters of deception
    now my eyes are wide open
    and the past is as present
    I see everything all over again
    just as it happened yesterday
    and nothing remains to me
    just a miserable shattered mirror
    the stars suddenly went out
    leaving me alone with my thin shadow
    tears run down my face
    darkness around me
    the cold wind cuts my body
    and as I wander in the wild obscurity
    flowers fall from the trees under the shape of flames
    burning every part of my body.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • She Is Lost In Her Mind

    She Is Lost In Her Mind

    She Is Lost In Her Mind

    She is lost in her mind
    She might be weird, but she couldn’t be otherwise
    And sometimes she would pass days hiding under a sea of blankets
    Every mirror of her house would be covered with drapes
    Being too afraid to see her reflections
    Avoiding being seen in the streets
    She was concealing her face with her long locks
    Nobody would know her voice because of her silence
    She was dreaming every single day, living in her own imaginary world
    Sometimes overthinker and melancholic
    And sometimes too much aware of her own anguish
    She doesn’t belong to the society she lives in
    It is like she was born on another planet
    And all the humans around her, far and near
    They were just aliens to her
    Her dreams were, are and always will be her pleasures
    Because she always has been made of stars.
    Esther Racah

  • Shyness

    Shyness

    Shyness

    Shyness is one of the several gems that are held inside the treasure of my soul
    I would permanently hide this side of myself with a smile rather than being paralysed by fear
    It is the softness and sweetness of my dreamy essence
    It is part of my delicacy and femininity
    My soul is similar to a piano nocturne
    My shyness would conceal my authentic nature, which is a blend of Romanticism and Victorian era
    Sometimes I would identify myself in some painting
    As if I would belong to a previous reality
    Hence I would disappear amid my dreams
    Lost in the sublimity and beauty of the universe.
    Esther Racah

  • The Scent Of My Dreams

    The Scent Of My Dreams

    The Scent Of My Dreams

    The scent of my dreams is like a Chopin nocturne
    The sumptuous and opulent scent of tuberose and jasmine surround me
    Impregnating my body and my hair
    And I dream of being away in a place where I can feel protected
    Forgetting everything and everyone
    All the old and abusive memories would disappear
    Finally, I would be free from intrusive thoughts and flashbacks
    Sometimes I thought that I deserved every kind of anguish
    Just because I would feel at peace with myself and with my oppressors
    I never needed their love and attention as I thought
    Nevertheless, they needed me.
    Esther Racah

  • Regrets

    Regrets

    Regrets

    Regrets are painful longings for a lost part of myself
    And like shadows, they obscure my secret rose garden
    Introspection is nothing but a useless speculation
    My desire is a burning longing for ideal and eternal love
    In my dreams, the stars have whispered secrets to me that cannot be revealed
    Secrets that I know very well but I will never reveal
    So terrible to even think about them

    Once I was too tiny to understand and react
    And I was too astonished and everything too tragic to understand
    Often and suddenly, they come into my mind
    My femininity and fragility are my shields
    Sometimes a wicked irrationality dominates my mind
    There is nothing to be done to undo the past
    And regrets are just useless vexations.
    Esther Racah

  • I Don’t Like Writing

    I Don’t Like Writing

    I Don’t Like Writing

    I don’t like writing
    Nevertheless, it is an unavoidable activity for me, such as breathing
    As long as silence talks to me, many impressions crowd into my mind
    Often I stay idle, wondering about random ideas
    But I am not able to rationalise all that is inscrutable
    It is as time shows me life in pictures
    Like a collection of many old miniature paintings
    Some of them are blurred
    And others are very unambiguous
    All those words of mine give only sporadic impressions about myself
    All those poems of mine are only fragments of me
    My poetry is accessible for everyone to read
    My poetry is not trapped in a book
    My poetry is absolutely a wild living thing that breaths
    Hence, I chose the freedom to express myself straightforwardly.
    Esther Racah

  • Without Darkness

    Without Darkness

    Without Darkness

    Without darkness, there wouldn’t be light
    Without sadness, there wouldn’t be happiness
    The myth of false positivity and happiness at any cost
    It is just a hypocritical way to betray the honesty of the mind
    Just like a good filler makeover and a fake smile
    This life became a tragicomedy where real people act like ridiculous clowns

    Nowadays, everything is so fictitious
    Nowadays, everything is so falsely bright
    The philosophy of being happy and embrace the light
    It’s the new propaganda to conceal all the fears and problems
    The main is to be a shallow mentor, showing off and impressing
    It is just a blind society where there is no way to avoid rooted ignorance.
    Esther Racah

  • Inspiration And Creativity

    Inspiration And Creativity

    Inspiration And Creativity

    It is in the night that my mind opens up
    And I feel free to indulge in my illusions
    My perceptions change in the dimension of inspiration and creativity
    And I  meditate about the potentialities I have been gifted
    Even though I might be frightened to make mistakes
    Fears don’t stop me from creating
    Whilst creativity uplifts my spirit
    My mind becomes aware of dreaming
    Although I might fall into the corruption of the self-doubt
    Carefulness doesn’t save me at all in every creative act
    Because I need that the wrongness leads me to unexplored infinities
    Hence I would discover a new side of myself.
    Esther Racah

  • Cold Raindrops

    Cold Raindrops

    Cold Raindrops

    I felt the cold raindrops becoming hot once they melted with my tears
    I felt like a small part of that constant rain pouring on me
    It is like I cannot feel any pain
    My mind is blank, and I also forget my name
    A silent bunch of silent words which will last forever
    A voiceless collection of lyrics that store all my feelings
    Thoughts are like the rain
    They appear in my mind without notice
    They are the unheard voice of my mind
    Solitude is a reminder of the humbleness of life
    Cold raindrops are a remembrance of the foolishness of my illusions
    Utopia is my haven whilst my dreams turn into dust
    Once I realised that I live in a fictitious world
    Where everyone runs after an exasperated existence.
    Esther Racah

  • In The Chasm Of Anguishes

    In The Chasm Of Anguishes

    In The Chasm Of Anguishes

    In the chasm of anguishes
    My soul wanders in a desolate immensity
    Faraway, I can hear the echo of a storm
    A violent tempest obscures all the realm
    In silence, I wait immobile
    My memories seize me and entrap me
    Now anguishes and grief welcome me
    And I lose control of my discernment
    Never I will reacquire my old self again
    I became a new person
    Although I am a turmoil of emotions
    Being a soul wandering in a noplace
    I consider each moment of life as a small step
    A minor step to advance in the knowledge of the material world
    I have to abandon my utopistic world made of absurd dreams
    I feel the fears like a frozen wall made of steel
    In the torpour, I try to find a reasonable sense of this life
    All those pains and anguishes build a chasm
    A chasm swallowing every hope and ambition of mine
    The coldness and the darkness of this material reality are overwhelming
    Now I only feel disquiet, and I will never feel safe.
    Esther Racah

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