Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: poetic imagery

  • The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The well of phantom wishes
    Was the well of my disappointments
    Of all those illusions
    That had deceived me
    In a malevolent way
    With their allure
    And their way of
    Misleading me
    With fake smiles and phrases
    Like lines from a script
    But in truth, it was all fake
    Every single thing
    And every
    One I had known, glimpsed
    Were nothing but
    Delusional
    Realities
    Beneath
    A deception
    A cruel deception
    That dragged me down
    Into that well
    So deep and so dark
    That I could not glimpse
    Any
    Vision
    Any hope

    My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
    My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
    its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
    soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
    That beauty I had once cherished within me
    had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.

    What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
    I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
    making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
    that moved around me but I could never reach.

    One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
    and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
    My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
    that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
    lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.

    The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
    Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.

    My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
    Lisa

  • The Arcane Forest

    The Arcane Forest

    The arcane forest was my place of refuge. It oozed with enchantments, and the trees did not possess a name. It was a place where I became invisible and mortal while still retaining my physical form.

    Softly, the wind whispered to me its hidden secrets, but I could not grasp their meaning. Such was my daze.

    The large clouds were gathering under a grey tone, and all the shades of white contrasted with the blue of the sky. The sound of the streams was like a melody which, however, had a gloomy and at times sinister sound. As if it reflected the image of my heart.

    Lost in my anguish and obsessive thoughts, I was seeking direction in that vast green and dark expanse, although the sun showed its light from time to time. I was lost in the chaos, in the noises that at times followed me relentlessly and at other times vanished into nothingness.

    The trees seemed to move, at times, and at other times they seemed almost dead, shrivelled, as if without vital infamy. But the mystery of that place was unusual and unexplainable. It seemed like a place of my imagination, which did not exist at all in tangible reality.

    In my wandering, it seemed that my shadow no longer followed me, but rather that other shadows not belonging to me had followed my path, as if curious about what I intended to do or where I was going. I was walking without direction and without any goal of finding myself or of finding the right destination.

    It was as if those shadows sighed, or wanted to whisper something to me — hidden truths, sealed secrets, confessions too indecent to be revealed to human ears, or too regal to deserve a particular listening. The trees seemed to encircle an arcane mark, or what seemed like the mark of death, or of the cavern, or the portal through which one might enter another world, a world not reserved for mortals and common souls.

    The arcane forest was my place of solitude alone, but also the place to which I truly belonged. No longer being part of the earthly world, of the world of mortals, of that realm I had tried to possess and understand, but which I then refused to belong to.
    Lisa

  • Bound To A Spell Of Death

    Bound To A Spell Of Death

    Bound to a spell of death
    Condemned to feel the poundage of my grief
    Grief that manifested each day deep inside my heart
    Using memories to pierce my heart and let me languish

    I knew not what I was expecting behind the doorway of my fate
    The uncertainty and fears cloaked me in a dark
    veil
    I couldn’t see anything beyond my sight of discernment
    Since I was a prisoner of my own thoughts

    Bound to a spell of death
    I wandered in the wilderness of my nightmares
    Getting lost so many times that I embraced my disorientation
    Chaos and madness were manifestations of my true self

    My passions set my heart ablaze
    An inextinguishable flame burning in silence
    While the luminaries watched in silence
    I confessed my secret desire, a forbidden desire

    I couldn’t find any delight in my existence
    As if joy itself were always out of reach for me
    And solace was forbidden to a soulless creature like myself
    Since my birth, my body has been pierced by poisoned daggers

    I was bruised and my wounds bled blood and submission
    I came to the edges of the abyss of death
    I saw my life wither and decay to dust
    And I became a part of that underworld

    I felt a serpentine ivy chain me to a throne of decadence
    I was a captive in the dungeon of misery and destruction
    I drank from the goblet of oblivion and I forgot all my memories
    The devastation of my soul was irreversible

    The stars seemed to collapse in the darkness
    While thunders ruled the kingdom of the night sky
    Clouds swirled like ancient ghosts around my head
    And the wind howled secrets no creature could bear the sound

    I sat on my throne as a queen of shadows and decay
    The deafening silence surrounded me
    Hissing spectres crowned my dungeon made of sorrow
    A wicked destiny had cast an enchantment over me that I could no longer break
    I was eternally bound to a spell of death.
    Elisabetta

  • The Spell Of The Magic Night

    The Spell Of The Magic Night

    The spell of the magic night bound me to a deadly respite
    A slumber of shadows too deep to escape
    Under the siege of absolute silence
    Dreams whispered legends of ashes and decay

    I was facing all my fears and my subconscious
    It was like opening an ancient chest that long-time remained closed
    Disclosing memories enveloped in dust and grief
    Each emotion was a fragile relic, and each fearful thought was an erratic rhyme

    The consequence of my own darkness dragged me deeper
    As my shadows manifested like abandoned ghosts
    And I became a captive of the stillness
    As I came to be aware that the price of awakening was far too high

    Immobile I remained on my fancy bed
    Expecting my frenzy to embody the shape of one of my visions
    I longed to become an illusion adrift in the aether
    Like divine smoke rising from sacred incense

    My heart was pounding from the sinister noises above me
    It felt as though I lay beneath demoniac clouds
    Where wicked souls wove silent conspiracies against me
    The void inside of my heart consumed me

    I surrendered to the phantoms of my anguishes
    They were no longer my tormentors but silent companions
    In the vastness of my hollow night, my thoughts dissolved like torn silk
    Each thread was lost to sight into the infinite darkness

    I finally ceased to search for who I was
    Since I became a part of that quietude I once feared
    I hovered through each memory of mine
    I had become a vibration surrounded by the velvet darkness

    All that surrounded me turned into a silent garden
    Where hushed sorrow bloomed with invisible petals
    And dreams fell like shadowed snowflakes
    On the altar of my fading spirit

    I wandered like a ghost trapped in a hall of mirrors
    Indeed, I had become a phantom of my own making
    And I eternally remained trapped in my dreams
    Under the spell of the magic night.
    Elisabetta

  • Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy Of The Withered Roses

    Elegy of the withered roses was one of the hymns carved on my book of dreams
    Every time I opened it to flee the reality around me, I found myself in another world
    A realm of solace and delight but also with dreadful and disquieting hues
    Confused and dazzled, I began to proceed on my walk to the fountain of knowledge
    The more I wanted to know, the more I was convinced to know less

    My struggle to understand the mystery beyond a legend so dear to me was overwhelmed by the fear of oblivion
    As soon as I desired to open the books, decay trapped me in a state of affliction
    And nightmares hunted me like prey, wherever I was, in the garden of desolation
    What I’ve never seen before appeared in the mirror of my fate
    The truth hurt me like a dagger inside my bleeding heart

    The doom of desolation and solitude tainted every delight of mine
    Although I was fleeing the reality, I couldn’t find any haven where to rest in peace
    Sombre clouds overcrowded the night sky, obliterating all the stars
    And the moon emerged immense in her startling splendour
    As she was chanting the elegy of the withered roses

    I couldn’t understand if the shrieks I was hearing were groans of mockery or laments of sorrow
    All I could see was shadows embedded in the roots of dead trees
    Twisting like tortured souls in the abyss of perpetual despair
    Because after all, every dream of mine was a nightmare In the luminous hush of night
    Since my heart was just an imperfect relic of impetuous storms

    Nothing more could have been mended
    The rift between the realm of nightmares and longings had outgrown
    My castle of hopes and illusions had crumbled to pieces
    Its towers dissolved into mist, and its gates were devoured by stillness
    I stood in my loneliness surrounded by the debris and clutching dreams that were turned to dust
    As if sorrow itself had rewritten the fabric of my heart.
    Elisabetta

  • Swallowed By The Emptiness

    Swallowed By The Emptiness

    Swallowed by the emptiness, I strive to survive
    And it seems that I’ve lost everything
    And I feel that I’ve got lost in the obscure abyss of my anguish
    And it’s only my fragility that guides me through the darkness

    The cruel fate threw me into a life of decay and despair
    An existence of invisibility and nonsense
    Where I struggle to be understood and loved
    And solitude rips my heart apart

    Wandering alone in the night
    I lose myself in an infinite myriad of thoughts
    And I try to scream, but there is no way to be heard
    While I lose my mind, falling into the abyss of madness

    Foolish as I am
    Every time, I believe in having found my way
    I only find walls made of gelid stones
    With no doors

    So I stopped to trust my dreams
    Since they are the most deceptive illusions
    Traps made of enchanting flowers and magic spells
    Traps that become my alcoves of salvation

    And I remain an unconscious prisoner of such captivating visions
    And I linger in silence without saying anything anymore
    I forget the sound of my voice to only remember the sound of my sobs
    When despair fractures me in millions of pieces

    The sweet melody of decadence soothes my soul
    I feel only love and anguish
    My heart bleeds teardrops of passion
    Lacerated as it is with a doomed destiny

    Swallowed by the emptiness
    I wander in the dark nights in the labyrinth of my nightmares
    To lie there hopeless and betrayed
    With a mind full of phoney delusions

    Trying to lie to myself
    I became convinced that there are clouds of happiness
    Where I’m valued and remembered
    A phantasmagoria of glowing glare and delight

    Hence, a fraudulent bliss enchained me eternally
    And an inextinguishable flame burns my bleeding heart
    Inflaming my soul with its ethereal fire
    A fire made of emptiness and indifference.
    Elisabetta

  • The Eternal Night

    The Eternal Night

    The eternal night within myself was sombre and mysterious,
    Like an obscure, vast, nocturnal ocean welcoming the starless night sky,
    A dark sky diving down into the sea depths.

    Obsessive was the wind hissing ominously against me,
    And in the same time, pushing me inside that frightening water realm,
    Where I was very driven to jump and disappear forever.

    Alone and lonely, I remained on the brink of the precipice,
    From where I heard a captivating spell of death and delight,
    Forgetting about every endeavour to endure a ruthless existence.

    I became the night, and the darkness pierced me like a sharp, poisoned arrow,
    Ready to be destroyed like a fragile crystal flower,
    With the awareness that I would become a part of the infinite void.

    And an absolute silence lit the memories within myself,
    Condemning me to relive my past,
    A realm I’ve always sought to escape.

    The void opened its maw, revealing itself a chasm of legends and glooms,
    Summoning me with its enchanting spell, recalling all I had lost,
    A dirge was sung by several faceless mirrors of sorrow and despair.

    Each remembrance burned like a fading flame,
    Illuminating instants that I dared not revisit,
    Although they lived like unbidden guests inside the darkness of my soul.

    I strived to stay away from that endless obscurity,
    Trembling as soon as its cold grasp reached and touched me,
    Provoking disturbing sensations and visions within me as fragments of life shattered into countless pieces.

    The waves below surged like spectral wraiths,
    Touching, pulling, claiming me as their own belonging,
    Promising delight and mirth in the depths of nothingness.

    I lingered suspended in that ethereal dwelling between life and death,
    Between the yearning to vanish,
    And the curse of perpetual souvenirs.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Phantasmagoria of Mystery

    A Phantasmagoria of Mystery

    A phantasmagoria of mystery pervaded the realm of dreams,
    Where delights cast their magic spells,
    Glowing like stars in the infinite darkness,
    The darkness of rationality and consciousness,
    Whose heavy shadows draped over the imagination that dared wander.

    Like warm raindrops falling upon open flower blooms,
    Passions moistened every blossom of roses with their dew of lust,
    Each petal glistening, saturated with feverish desire,
    And in the silent sonata, the blossoms swayed,
    Unfurling to a breeze that whispered forbidden rhymes.

    Oblivion and derealisation welcomed every utopia in this exquisite alcove,
    An alcove of lush gardens veiled in mist,
    Where roses revealed secrets to the midnight sky,
    And the aura, decadent with intoxicating scents,
    Lured dreamers further into hallucinations that could not be resisted.

    In this realm of opulence, reality blurred, dissolving at the edge of darkness,
    Where dawn dared not disturb the exquisite slumber,
    And beneath the star-laden canopy, sweet illusions swirled wildly,
    Weaving dreams with threads of silk and shadows,
    A dance of light and dark, of ecstasy and fervour, entangled forever.

    In the gardens of legends, where phantoms ruled,
    Each shadow became a wraith of lost desires, drifting, unchained,
    Every sigh was heavy with the scent of roses,
    And every heartbeat transformed into an echo, fading into the invisible,
    An imaginary domain where time dissolved, leaving only the eternal dusk.

    A phantasmagoria of mystery happened to be in this enchanted universe,
    Where illusions and falsehoods became reality.
    A bizarre and fantastic scenario where remembrances did not exist anymore,
    And dreams were the irrefutable truth.

    Within this unearthly garden of forbidden reveries,
    Ethereal spectres wove silent trails through the air, invisible.
    Guiding the dreamers and visionaries toward metaphysical revelations,
    Past the boundaries of the known and intelligible.

    The roses, drenched in twilight’s honeyed essence,
    Released their secrets in whispers soft and low,
    As if mourning for a life they’d never lived,
    And petals drifted down like fallen hopes,
    Into pools of ink, where starlight’s glow had ceased.

    Beneath a moon veiled in shadows’ dark embrace,
    Figures waltzed in silence, spectres of delight,
    Invisible, though stirring in every pulse, every heartbeat,
    Moving in time to a song unheard, unfathomable,
    A hymn to worlds that only slumber can comprehend.

    In this phantasmagoric realm, within the depths of the midnight veil,
    Where dawn was but a distant tale, lost,
    The dreamers sank deeper, surrendering entirely,
    To realms beyond the reach of morning’s light,
    Forever wandering in the labyrinth of dusk.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Flowers of Lust

    Flowers of Lust

    Flowers of lust bloomed with passion and love,
    In a lush garden teeming with beauty and sublimity.
    Not even the rain dared touch this magical, magnificent realm,
    Where all dreams always come true.

    Anguish began to poison that ethereal world,
    Each raindrop became a drop of venom and grief,
    Killing all the flowers of lust and leaving the garden a deserted place,
    Where shadows and darkness started to rule.

    Hope faded like the sun’s dying glow,
    As gloominess swallowed the once-enchanted realm.
    The wind carried tales of forgotten euphoria,
    Now replaced by the wails of misery’s presence.

    A veil of sorrow draped over every path,
    Once adorned with roses, now thorns remained.
    The sky, once azure, turned to ominous dark grey,
    And silence grew louder than the softest pain.

    The lovers who feasted in the garden’s embrace,
    Became mere phantoms, vestiges of the remote past.
    Their merriment twisted into haunting laments,
    As the night’s cold grasp on their souls was cast.

    This forsaken place transformed into a castle of rumbles,
    Each remembrance was a reminder of love’s decay.
    No gentle breeze, no floral perfume in the air,
    Only the scent of death would not sway.

    The garden became a grave for passion’s bloom,
    Lay barren, broken, a cradle for despair.
    No longer a haven for hearts to unite,
    But a tomb where love withered, unaware.

    Wilted petals and shattered dreams are all that remain,
    Fragments of a life now lost in vain.
    Each star above seemed to mock the plight,
    Of a paradise torn apart at the seams.

    Amidst the ruins and obliteration,
    The eternal darkness still cast its poisonous spell,
    And gloaming clouds devoured every hopeful bloom.
    No life could flourish in this place of despair,
    A garden trapped in its endless, tragic plight.

    The flowers of lust forever lost their allure,
    As night swallowed day and banished the light.
    In this realm of sorrow, nothing survived,
    Not love, nor joy, nor the faintest gleam,
    But only the fragments of shattered dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss of Silence

    The Abyss of Silence

    In the abyss of silence, where shadows rule,
    I wandered through the darkness, consumed by the night.
    No comfort to tether me, no compass to be found,
    Just the pulse of my dismay, a mournful sound.

    Secrets and spells, long buried and lost,
    Became reminders of dreams that were tossed.
    In the abysm of the stillness, my thoughts came to life as visions,
    As clouds on edges where memories strive.

    The walls closed in tighter, a prison of stone,
    As I wandered the hallways where night turned to day.
    In the abyss, a spark was unearthed,
    A glimmer of longings in the obscure and endless darkness.

    I searched for messages, for letters of the past,
    Each thorn was a reminder that no delight can last.
    The stillness enveloped me, solemn and profound,
    A consolation in knowing I could finally weep.

    The stars blinked above, everlasting and inextinguishable flames of glare,
    Mocking the darkness that swallowed the night.
    I embraced the abyss that I knew as ruthless,
    Since in silence, I found a connection so boundless.

    The solitude wrapped me in veils of time,
    Where sorrow and stillness began to rhyme.
    Each moment a treasure, each breath a release,
    In the abyss of silence, I stumbled on serenity.

    So I lingered in darkness, a spectre unseen,
    Where the vestige of silence weaved shadows serene,
    Whispers of sorrow in the cold, hollow air,
    A chilling embrace of despair everywhere.

    In the gloom of the night, where clouds and shadows entwine,
    I discovered the beauty in the stillness, divine.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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