Tag: poetry

  • Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere in my dreams, random thoughts enveloped my mind, and the bitter memories of what I have lost—of my buried treasures—saddened my heart.

    It was as if I had surrendered myself to my own steps, walking down an avenue lined with dead trees, and with closed eyes I had defied the wind, which whispered to me words and secrets I no longer remember.

    Weighted down by my anguish, I could not see a glimmer of light, of hope, that might guide me in a clear and lucid direction. All I could find was only chaos and fear—a dread that tormented me, the fear of never being able to grasp my dreams, of never being able to enclose them within the cage of my heart.

    As much as I longed to cling to life, to my plans and dreams, their manifestations fell into the abyss of emptiness—an abyss that sought to swallow me into its chasm.

    And I remembered all the principles that had been taught to me, shaped like a golden cage in which I was made to live my entire life—bound by rigid conventions, dark as chains coiled around my ankles and wrists, suffocating me like sly ivy twisting about my neck, its soft and slender leaves wrapping my face in a silent, silken strangle.

    No, absolutely not. Stupidity has never belonged to me, nor hypocrisy, nor superficiality. And yet, I have always stood beyond an invisible wall—between myself and other mortals, who have always found me unusual, strange, even impossible to define within their social and mental structures.

    Excessively extreme in my obsessions, in my feelings, in my passions and in my visions. I have always been—and still am—a visionary, a dreamer at the mercy of events that have never truly belonged to me, for even now I find their traces in the vault of my past, like fragments of memories scattered across the sky above my head.

    Somewhere in my dreams, I’ve got lost in the labyrinth of reveries, trying to find myself—but in vain, for, in truth, I have never known myself, and I have never found who I truly am. I have always lived with the illusion of knowing, the illusion that others spoke the truth to me—as if their words were pearls of wisdom, as if they could guide me.

    But in the end, what I found was only an illusion. Only betrayal. My heart has been permanently defiled by the torments of mortals and by the shadowy mirages that have always hindered my path.
    Lisa

  • The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The magic beneath her smile
    In a hush of varnished sight
    Her gaze held mine
    She was not senseless
    She was enigmatic
    A timeless masterpiece
    An eternal and sublime beauty
    As if she knew everything about me
    And all that I hadn’t yet dared to live

    Seventeen-seventeen was the arcane message
    She whispered to me in the gallery aura
    Like a cypher and a vow
    A painting is much more than a mirror
    It is the reflection of a soul into a thin surface of eternity

    The time became nineteen-nineteen
    Like wings folding back into the surface of my body
    An unlived existence was rising up from between my heart
    And it was not a fairytale or a legend
    But a secret signal and a door to another world

    Surreal fantasies became my realm
    And there I lingered silent and astonished
    Immobile like a sphinx with staring eyes
    Futile as I felt like the moments of bliss I lived in that magic kingdom of beauty and eternity
    An exquisite world where my heart beat again joyfully

    Vanity and ephemeral dreams took me to mysterious places
    Where I discovered new oddities and ancient secrets
    I wouldn’t be able to understand which spell had been cast on me
    I only knew I couldn’t resist the captivating labyrinth of arts

    The magic beneath her smile concealed arcane mysteries
    It wasn’t a prosaic artwork but a divine splendour
    Dressed in centuries of varnish
    Hid behind a shining crystal
    Surrounded by fragments of timeless magnificence.
    Lisa

  • Gilded Illusions

    Gilded Illusions

    Gilded illusions visited my dreams
    In the eternal night that enveloped me like a diaphanous veil
    I lingered far from every mortal sight
    In my dwelling made of stars and dreams

    The moon was bleeding silver onto withered blossoms
    And I was a phantom wandering through chambers carved from bone
    Among candles that wept in crystal flocks
    While silence deepened in this dark dungeon of memories

    Eerie whispers of the dead rose from broken mirrors
    From each cracked and gloomy surface emerged a spirit of the past
    Their hearts were cold and hollow for their ancient dismay
    And their anguish echoed until the stars of the night firmament

    Whenever I aimed to reach for the stars
    They disappeared into the emptiness
    Leaving me alone in my despair and decay
    While the striking of time split the silence like a blade

    No hesitation could help me to reacquire my wisdom
    I knew that I had lost my freedom to embrace a life of madness and turmoil
    Nothing could have altered this realm of death and decadence
    Every divine bliss was destroyed by my fate

    I belonged to the realm of dust and decay
    I was reduced to following the darkness
    The more I wept, the tighter drew the chains of my bondage
    All my gilded illusions faded away in the void

    Surrounded by the hollowness of dilapidated sarcophagi
    I heard lullabies of sorrow that hovered like ghouls
    Shadows long departed from the realm of life
    They waited to converge on the abyss of the underworld

    My chains transformed into silver and gold serpents
    They became my guardians in this surreal world ruled by illusion and deception
    Crowded by hissing ghosts and perpetual twilight
    And in this sublime dejection, I found my refuge.
    Elisabetta

  • Sadness And Longings

    Sadness And Longings

    Sadness and longings waited for me to return to my nocturnal slumber. Whenever I fell into Morpheus’s embrace, surrounded by shadows and silence, I discovered a new realm of deception and darkness.

    Fear and doubts chained me to an existence of emptiness. Time devoured my hopes, and all my delights were destroyed by the storm of oblivion.
    I wandered endlessly through the forest of illusions but could not grasp their ephemeral beauty.

    Each dream I dared to explore turned into ashes and I had become a captive of my own desires, shrouded in the velvet of sorrow and despair. I fled from humankind, seeking solace in solitude. But serenity became a minacious ghoul feeding upon my thoughts.

    My sorrow had become too heavy to behold, and I grew exhausted. I was aware that I couldn’t find any tranquillity inside myself. Throughout my miserable existence, I had been drawn to torches whose fire had burned and bruised me.

    Sadness and longings were devouring my bleeding heart like famished monsters. I fell lifeless on the cold soil in the middle of the wilderness. I couldn’t find any will to live and I no longer knew what I was.

    I lay among the withered roots of dead trees, cradled by a ground that knew my distress too well. The moon scrutinised me with distant apathy, an insensitive witness to my decadence. Not a single echo resounded my name, not even the wind dared unsettle my quiescence.

    I was no longer a real creature or a soul but a doomed shadow. A forgotten rhyme in a poem never uttered. I surrendered to the sleep where no dream could deceive me, and no memory could stab me again.

    My heart was sealed in the hush of eternity. Sadness and longings no longer belonged to me. I was finally free from all anguish, and I could hover like a shadow in the night, surrounded by bleeding roses and dark clouds.
    Elisabetta

  • Under The Lights Of Dying Flames

    Under The Lights Of Dying Flames

    Under the lights of dying flames
    A dreaming image of myself appeared to me
    It occurred in the chamber dimly lit
    While outside, the wind kept knocking on the window

    My secrets became my blames
    And I had to endure so much distress it couldn’t be kept inside the oceans
    As far as I could ever imagine, my existence was bound to the fate of my dreams
    Each instant resembled a drop of poison tainting my heart

    I remained asleep while the candles wept their wax onto the silver
    And I was mourning the truth I couldn’t confess
    Surrounded by shadows moving gracefully like ethereal skeletons
    Turning me into a silhouette of grief and disdain

    I couldn’t understand if I were dead or alive
    I couldn’t even perceive my body anymore
    All I could sense was my frailty facing the abyss of despair
    No presence, no voice, came to ease my sorrow

    The squalid solitude paralysed me to my deathbed
    I became intoxicated with the scent of incense and decay
    Conscious in my unconsciousness that I had no hope or salvation
    Silence crowned my invisible haven, similar to a vestige nailed to the walls of my mind

    I wandered incessantly through my thoughts like a ghost in a cathedral
    Each memory of mine was a hollow and deformed ghoul
    Dripping like wax from a long-forgotten candle

    I couldn’t escape from my nightmare because there was no awakening reserved for me
    I was doomed to the segregation of dimness
    The image of myself faded into smoke

    I vanished in the emptiness like smoke upon a mirror
    Under the stare of my candelabra with their dying flames
    No traces of me could have been found
    No voice of mine was carved on the walls of eternity

    Under the lights of dying flames, I became a shadow not even the moon could claim as its own.
    Elisabetta

  • In My Fainted Dreams

    In My Fainted Dreams

    In my fainted dreams made of smoke and spells, I saw my image reflected in the mirror of death. It seemed as if I were a dead shadow made of illusions. My slumber bound me to chains of darkness, and I couldn’t escape from my dungeon of despair.

    In my non-existence, the quietness numbed me with a spell of sorrow. I was born to die alone, in scorn and desolation. My residence was made of teardrops and blood. I wished I could have kept my dreams in my treasure chest, but every time I tried, they would vanish.

    Hence, I began to pretend that I didn’t need to desire or dream. I could have achieved everything I wanted if only my fate could allow me to do it. Nevertheless, solace and bliss were forbidden castles to my decrepit presence, and I could only find myself in an endless requiem.

    Lies were birds of freedom for my heart, and I slumbered as a way of searching for myself. Indeed, I received an invitation from the realm of nothingness, under whose influence my main achievement was only destruction and decay. I was becoming a candle castle collapsing under the tension of an impetuous and merciless wind.

    My past memories were little daggers puncturing my heart incessantly without any compassion. Maybe it was all an endless nightmare conspiring against me but the vivid remembrances were slowly annihilating me each instant of my non-life.

    In my fainted dreams, I lived in grief surrounded by the shadows of my past self. I was not afraid to suffer and mourn days and nights. Time didn’t matter anymore because there was no metamorphosis in me. I perpetually wept like a statue in a cemetery.

    Death and nightmares were all that remained as gifts of the underworld. I surrendered to a quiet acceptance of my irreversible demise. I ceased to dream, embracing my everlasting lamentation. I was fading like incense through a sinister wind.
    Elisabetta

  • A Storm Of Sadness

    A Storm Of Sadness

    A storm of sadness and anguish is striking me with all its might
    And I cannot possibly escape it
    The sun is shining brightly
    But my heart is as dark as the night.

    Hence, I wait for the night to come to rejoice in its feast
    Fearless are my desires,
    And shameless are my fantasies
    I find delight in crying because I can let my fears manifest freely

    I’m odd and unusual
    I cannot fit into any description or catalogue
    I live of dreams and wonders
    I breathe decadence and melancholy
    After all, I am the embodiment of tragedy and blight

    The storm of sadness comes back every day of my life
    It is a familiar shadow at my doorstep, and I embrace it
    I drink the poison of my hallucinations like the sweet nectar of the abyss
    A luscious decay draped in perfumes of bygone eternities

    The wind wails my dismay through hollow halls
    In chambers long abandoned the ever-faithful night is my sacred dwelling
    Little daggers of despair pierce my heart, don’t let it rest even for an instant
    My sensibility is a cherry tree in full bloom under the storm of dreadful occurrences

    I dwell within my hallucinations, lost in a world of beautiful delusion
    Every dream carries me to faraway realms, where reality dares not follow
    I love to indulge in my wild fantasies and my delirium is a paroxysm of lust
    In my kingdom whose sky is made of red and purple clouds, everything is possible and limitless

    Nevertheless, the storm of sadness never left my dreams
    Always looking for me as a creature of its belongings
    Dressing me with an exquisite gown made of tears and sorrow
    Chaining me to a dungeon of dark madness and loneliness
    From which I am bound, unable to escape for all eternity.
    Elisabetta

  • Crying To Death

    Crying To Death

    Crying to death until I lose all my fears
    Crying to death until my heart bleeds the last drop of grief
    I don’t remember my name anymore
    I come from a faraway realm where dreams are forbidden
    I wander astray in the labyrinth of my bleeding heart

    Not anymore comforted by solace and delight
    I strive to find refuge in my secret realm of illusions
    Because I love to lie to myself with shameless boldness
    Because I love to fill my heart with deception

    I’m untamed and wild, and I don’t bow to any convention
    It’s impossible to fit my soul inside a box of comfort
    Too many thoughts crowd my mind
    Too many emotions crowd my heart
    I’m a paroxysm, a burst of madness wrapped in the quietness of my sorrow

    I love to wear exclusively beautiful vintage-style dresses and ballerinas
    I love to wear red lipstick and red nail polish
    I never cut my long blond hair because they keep my little secrets for years discretely
    I love books but sometimes I keep them closed as if I would like to guess what is going to happen next in the story

    I mainly write night and day and I cannot see myself not writing even a day
    That would be like asking me not to breathe
    I suffer in silence when I am home alone so nobody can discover it
    I never plan what I’m going to write because I believe in improvisation in poetry
    I love cloudy skies but not the rain because it makes me feel miserable

    I love to be in love but I also love to be loved and adored
    Solitude and books are my best companions, indeed the only ones
    I adore art in all its forms, music, literature and art
    Sometimes I prefer to write in a direct way and simple style without labyrinths of metaphors

    Crying to death is a way to express myself when I’m suffering unbearably
    And when I don’t feel understood and seen by the other creatures of this planet or when memories come to visit me
    After all, we suffer mainly because of indifference or tainted interactions with other entities or because of something we don’t want to remember

    I feel like an alien creature not belonging to standard society and as an introvert it’s very difficult being part of this messed ocean where I never felt comfortable. So bizarre and odd I’m in the other’s sight that I cannot blend with them.
    Therefore, I dwell in my loneliness where I have built my castle of dreams.
    Elisabetta

  • Blooming Desires

    Blooming Desires

    Blooming desires blossom everywhere around me
    The stars in the sky above me are shining brightly
    My pure heart undiscloses all the secrets and beauty
    Blissful passions burn my heart like glowing torches

    I became a flower in my own garden of fantasies
    I rule my own realm of dreams and utopias
    And a sweet melody cast the spell over me
    Like a hypnotizing hymn of joy and delight

    I feel no poundage of fear and anguish anymore
    I fly free like a wild bird of paradise
    Touching the clouds and stars with my colourful wings
    I say goodbye to the old version of myself broken and deceived

    I smile and cry at the same time
    Repeating all the verses of my poetry to walls and trees
    Declaring my love for the sublime and beauty
    Promising to never break again my sacred oath of loyalty to the art of poetry

    I try to reach out to my inner blooming desires
    Quietly embracing my true self for the very first time
    Although it seems like I have lost my resilience
    I find refuge in my fairytale world where I’m a forever princess

    I never let social norms and prejudices shape my life or my essence
    I stand up for my liberty and independence in thinking and living
    Because life is just a short and crazy journey in this odd universe
    Where the absurdities are countless but still oddly enlightening

    I decided to embrace my inner turmoil and chaos
    To become a fantastic oddity rejecting every conformity
    Even though oftentimes it makes me fall into oblivion
    My blooming desires guide me along my path of madness and decay

    I’m a whimsical creature of my own dreams
    I’m a surreal and mystical fairy flying around her bizarre flowers
    Lost in the labyrinth of my absurd imagination
    Where reality ceases to exist and fantasy is the only truth I hold dear inside my heart
    And I dance to the rhythm of my blooming desires and untamed spirit.
    Elisabetta

  • My Blank Pages

    My Blank Pages

    My blank pages of life and stories teach me to embrace the enigma of my fate
    Whenever I think about my future
    I can only see blank pages of a book still to be written
    With my patience and perseverance, I try to love the unknown

    I always change mood like a cloudy sky that lets the sun shine through the haze
    Sometimes I feel like a flower that has been sunburned in the summer months
    Oftentimes I feel like a leaf falling from its tree under the influence of an unpredictable wind
    Everything around me is a reflection of my true self

    I always avoid mirrors to not let them swallow my soul
    Indeed, I am a perpetual dreamer whose real image appears through rhymes and verses
    I will never know myself for I’m an infinite abyss of mysteries
    And I even don’t aspire to get all the knowledge of this universe

    Always metamorphosing into someone new
    I wait for the time that doesn’t matter anymore
    As I see my shadow disappear beneath the night sky
    Wandering and getting lost in the forest of doubts

    I don’t have certitudes and I don’t know how to embrace my future
    Sometimes I believe that I love instability
    Sometimes I think that I have a predilection for blank pages
    I’m a blank page waiting to be written

    Paroxysm of emotions is my way of expressing my true essence
    I’m made of dreams and illusions
    I suffer unbearably and I love being delusional
    A romantic is never a loser but an eternal source of magnificence

    I will never bow to power and oppression
    I’m a free spirit and like a wildflower, I love to catch a glimpse of the sky
    While the pouring raindrops fall all over me
    I wait for my dreams to come true and for my heart to be consumed by madness
    As a book with blank pages, my inner senses yearn to be filled with both bliss and decay.
    Elisabetta

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.