Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: rhymes

  • Eternal Nightfall

    Eternal Nightfall

    Eternal nightfall in a world where shadows long did cling,
    A tale of sorrow began to be chanted.
    Under the cloak of darkness, despair ruled the night,
    A story of fate so cruel and senseless.

    A figure wandered, lost in plight,
    In haunted woods devoid of light.
    Each step was plump, each instant of life a duty,
    An ethereal ghost condemned forevermore.

    The stars cast down their eerie glare,
    On sights once bright, now dulled by dread.
    With every beat, the hearts did weep,
    For dreams that perished in shadows deep.

    The voice of the wind would moan,
    Of hopes that died and were left forsaken.
    No star was left above to guide the way,
    Just endless nights, no break of day.

    In twisted branches, secrets were kept,
    Of promises that fate had swept.
    An existence once vibrant was now a shell,
    A captive in an earthly nightmare.

    Eternal nightfall, no hope to chase, no dawn to see,
    Bound by chains of cruel decree.
    The echoes of a life once known,
    Now lost to time, forever blown.

    In silence cold, the figure wept,
    For all the dreams that were never kept.
    In the abyss where shadows feasted,
    Desires were ensnared, with no hope of being released.

    For in this tale of sorrow’s thread,
    All light had fled, and all joy was dead.
    So many victims of a fate so grim,
    No chance to fight, no hope within.

    Hence, the end of a tragic lore was determined,
    Once darkness reigned until the end of time.
    In the nothingness most profound, only fragments remained,
    No hope to live, no will to strive.

    In a realm of eternal sorrow and grief,
    Phantoms wept their weakness and frailty.
    No rescue arrived, no hope in sight,
    Only tears upon their hollow facades.

    Eternal nightfall, when the days were shadows and nights were dread,
    A world where even hope had fled.
    The trees whispered of doom and death,
    Their branches formed a sombre wreath.

    Desperate entities wandered through fog and mire,
    Dragging through the remnants of a pyre.
    The remembrance of a life once bright,
    Now completely swallowed by an eternal night.

    Memories of delight, now decayed,
    In the recesses of betrayed truths,
    Broken and erased dreams,
    A cruel fate with no redeeming seams.

    Haunted gazes envisioned ghouls by chance,
    In a cruel and mocking trance.
    They taunted with their spectral glee,
    Reminders of what could not be.

    The stars above had once been guides so clearly,
    Now distant, heartless, and filled with fear.
    Their light, a dagger to the heart,
    A cruel reminder, worlds apart.

    Eternal nightfall, each heartbeat was a painful toll,
    A bell that rang for a tortured soul.
    The silence screamed in endless waves,
    Echoing through forgotten graves.

    No voices came to soothe the night,
    No comfort for the endless plight.
    The shadows whispered tales of doom,
    Of lives confined to eternal gloom.

    In this world of sorrow, bleak and vast,
    The invisible hope was a long outcast.
    No light to pierce the suffocating haze,
    No dawn to break the endless daze.

    The ghost knelt in a silent plea,
    To force dark to misery.
    With nothing left, no strength to fight,
    Embracing the eternal night.

    Being this tale a cruel design,
    No threads of fate would intertwine.
    The end was near, a gust away,
    No expectancy to see another day.

    Eternal nightfall, in shadows profound, a final sigh,
    A soul surrendered a whispered cry.
    In the darkness, it forever lay,
    No desire to live, no light to stay.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forgotten Theatre

    The Forgotten Theatre

    The forgotten theatre was hidden in the heart of the old city,
    Nestled between towering buildings,
    Once a grand beacon, now forsaken,
    Crumbled and cloaked in ivy’s embrace.

    Once grand, now dust and vine,
    Ornate facade hidden away,
    Marquee unlit, letters faded,
    Abandoned, haunting in dismay.

    Legends whispered of a night,
    A performance at the height of its fervour, tragic,
    Flames consumed with terrifying speed,
    Trapped souls in a fiery magic.

    Spirits bound to the stage,
    Their untimely demise,
    Haunting the theatre still,
    In ghostly, sorrowful cries.

    Interior, a labyrinth of decay,
    Air thick with dust and mildew,
    Floorboards creaked ominously,
    A grand chandelier in a webbed hue.

    Red velvet seats faded and torn,
    Once plush, now mould and rot,
    An opulent auditorium,
    In neglect, long forgotten.

    The charred stage, a sombre reminder,
    The backdrop faded and torn,
    Orchestra pit, a dark void,
    Instruments broken, forlorn.

    At night, the theatre came to life,
    Faint music filled the halls,
    Shadows of performers flitted,
    Ghostly symphony echoed calls.

    Empty seats held ghostly spectators,
    Faces pale, gaunt in despair,
    Disembodied voices and laughter,
    A crowd was no longer there.

    A woman in a tattered costume,
    Face streaked with soot and tears,
    Wandered halls in deep sorrow,
    Searching through the years.

    Backstage, narrow corridors,
    Dressing rooms were silent and cold,
    Mirrors cracked and tarnished,
    Reflections of stories untold.

    Costumes hung in tatters,
    Colours faded with age,
    The lingering scent of smoke,
    Haunting every stage.

    At dawn, the ghostly faded,
    The theatre fell silent anew,
    Chandelier, charred stage, empty seats,
    Witnesses to tragedy’s rue.

    Spirits bound to the theatre,
    In restless slumber, they lay,
    Waiting for the night to awaken,
    To haunt, to dance, to play.

    A testament to sorrow’s power,
    The forgotten theatre stands,
    Spirits perform in ghostly hours,
    A nighttime can’t erase demands.

    The city moved on, bustling streets,
    In contrast to the eerie presence,
    Past and present intertwined,
    In shadows, whispers, and essence.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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

  • A Forlorn Lantern

    A Forlorn Lantern

    A forlorn lantern was enlightening the chasms of midnight,
    Swaying in desolate grace,
    Its flickering light, a spectral frolic,
    Guided the lost in a trance.

    Shadows stretched like ghostly tendrils,
    Across forsaken and haunted lands,
    Sighs of a forgotten past echoed through the night,
    Steadfast in the grip of eternal fright.

    The lantern’s glow was pale and wan,
    Its glimmers Illuminated a path long gone,
    Through mist and gloom, it led astray,
    Guiding dreams that would have lost their way.

    Its glass, shattered by time’s cruel jest,
    Reflected the sorrow of the restless anguish,
    In every flame, a story was hiding,
    Of hearts that once were amiable, now cold.

    In the silence, secrets hid,
    Beneath the lantern’s mournful sway,
    A flare for the cursed and lost,
    In the shadows of the past, they fade away.

    Beneath the crescent moon’s senseless stare,
    The forlorn lantern swung in the damp air,
    A solitary and magical lodestar,
    In the darkness, it did confide.

    Flickers and whispers of bygone dreams,
    Plagued the edges of moonlit streams,
    Where remnants of the long-departed lingered,
    In the glooms of the bygone days, they softly perished.

    An eternal vigil, a silent invocation,
    For those who wandered, lost and bare,
    The forlorn lantern’s light was the only compass,
    In the darkened abyss where shadows sough.

    On every eerie, timeless night,
    The forlorn lantern shone its glare,
    A spectral glow in profound shadiness,
    Guiding the lost who never rested.

    Tormenting echoes of a mournful elegy,
    The lantern’s light lasted all night long,
    Its rays, though faint, still mighty,
    To ward off the nighttime hour by hour.

    A vestige of sorrow’s plight,
    This forlorn lantern was an ethereal gaze,
    Its flame, a lamp for the bewildered,
    Burning through the night despite the strain.

    Each night, as clouds drew near,
    The lantern’s light cast out the fear,
    A solitary star in the infinite dusk,
    Its shine, a faint yet steadfast spark.

    No one knew from whence it came,
    This forlorn lantern, with its everlasting flame,
    But in its glow, the lost wayfarers found peace,
    A moment’s solace, a brief release.

    In the end, the darkness gave way,
    To dawn’s first light, the break of day,
    And the forlorn lantern, in twilight’s gust,
    Owned stories of life, love, and death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Castle By The Ocean

    The Castle By The Ocean

    The castle by the ocean stood on a cliff ruled by shadows at night,
    An ancient, towering fortress, fierce and fantastic, haunted and forlorn.
    It rose from the rock, a sentinel of stone and memory,
    Bearing witness to countless storms, its walls were stroked by time and tide.

    Waves mild and intense disclosed secrets long heretofore,
    Stories of love and death, of struggles fought and lives surrendered.
    In the moon’s pale, ghostly glares, spectres roamed the halls at dusk,
    Their steps echoed through the aisles, a mournful melody.

    Turrets pierced through the mist, emerged scornful against the sky,
    Their silhouettes were a stark contrast to the swirling fog below.
    Windows, once alive with lamps, now gazed upon the sea,
    Stares of sorrow, dark and unbound, reflected the endless expanse.

    The castle’s gates, long rusted shut, held tales of ancient treasures,
    Of kings and queens, of fearless knights, their legends carved in gravel.
    The castle by the ocean with walls carved by time and storms kept secret stories from days sunk in oblivion,
    Each pebble bore the weight of a history’s silent song.

    Mirrors of the past stuck around inside every tormented chamber,
    In each stone, a hidden misery and a remembrance were entombed.
    The ballroom, now empty, once rang with giggle and mirth,
    Feasts and proms, melodies raised, celebrating life and inception.

    The castle by the ocean sobbed, a lament to the sky,
    Where restless spirits never perished, bound to this earthly realm.
    They wandered through the twilight, shades of what once was,
    Guardians of forgotten lore lost in time’s relentless haze.

    The library, with dusty tomes, held knowledge long since known,
    Books of wisdom, spells, and dreams, their pages now unattended.
    Cobwebs draped the chandeliers, their crystals dull and silver,
    Once sparkling at the candlelight, now dimmed by centuries’ decay.

    The courtyard, overgrown with wild shrubs, where flowers used to bloom,
    Now lay as silent witness to nature’s quiet doom.
    However, the castle by the ocean stood firm, defiant against time,
    A relic of a bygone era, preserved in sorrow’s tears.

    The castle by the ocean became a monument to the past,
    An ancient, towering fortress, severe and feral, tormented and desolate.
    Its heritage, etched in stone and sea, whispered on the wind,
    A tale of unyielding resolve, where ghouls endlessly persisted.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Delights And Dread

    Delights And Dread

    Delights and dread in a garden where roses once bloomed black as the night,
    Lay a tale of bliss that ended in fright.
    An exquisite feast had been set with the finest of fare,
    But those who partook had to tread with utmost care.

    The wraith, with eyes like the chill of the void,
    Had greeted the wanderers with a presence devoid.
    It offered them visions from an ancient mystic chalice,
    Each glance a whisper, a fragment of malice.

    The banquet had been a marvel, a sensory delight,
    And shadows danced eerily in the flickering light.
    The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers and decay,
    A subtle hint of doom that was not far away.

    Each dish had been a wonder, a culinary art,
    Yet poison lay hidden in each sumptuous part.
    The guests were enraptured by flavours so rare,
    Unaware of the lurking danger hidden there.

    The melody grew haunting, a mournful refrain,
    As one by one, the guests felt creeping pain.
    Their visions grew darker, their breaths grew thin,
    The poison revealed the death hiding within.

    The ghost observed with a gaze cold and grim,
    As guests fell silent, their faces grew dim.
    For this had been its realm, a domain of delight and dread,
    Where the line between life and death was faintly marked.

    The roses drank deeply from the blood-soaked earth,
    Their petals darkened, marking a sinister rebirth.
    In that garden of delights and foreboding strife,
    The veil between beauty and death was razor-thin.

    Asymptotic allure of a banquet so grand,
    In a garden where delights and dread walked side by side.
    For the pleasures once experienced in the moon’s eerie light,
    They may have led to a slumber that lasted beyond any night.

    The fragments of shadows, the sighs of dread,
    Lingered in the garden where life once trod.
    A tale of dark enchantment, a feast full of fear,
    Where the line between life and death was starkly sheer.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Chaos And Obliviousness

    Chaos And Obliviousness

    Chaos and obliviousness enveloped a realm ruled by eerie fog, where time stood still,
    Turmoil reigned supreme against every will.
    The clocks ticked backwards, the sunsets were at dawn,
    The reality was fractured, and sanity was gone.

    The paths twisted and turned into labyrinths,
    Shadows moved in a trance, in a perpetual daze.
    Voices echoed in alleys like whispers of dread,
    Of entities unseen that always drew near.

    A carnival arrived with a dark, eerie flair,
    Its lights were a beacon in the thick, murky air.
    The trails were distorted, mirrors showed lies,
    A funhouse of horrors beneath darkened skies.

    A jester with a smile painted in red,
    Led the unwary to the realms of the dead.
    His laughter was hollow, his eyes void of light,
    A harbinger of chaos, of endless night.

    The oblivious townsfolk, unaware of their plight,
    Danced through the chaos, blind to their blight.
    Each night, they dreamed of a world far away,
    But awoke to madness that wouldn’t go away.

    The town’s clocktower chimed a discordant tune,
    Its bells tolled the doom beneath the pale moon.
    Among chaos and obliviousness, reality crumbled, dreams intertwined,
    In a maze of havoc, where nothing was kind.

    An old book was found with pages torn out,
    Its words held the key to what it was about.
    But the lines were in riddles, twisted and dark,
    A puzzle of madness, a chaotic mark.

    This was a realm where disorder reigned,
    And the lines between dreams and reality blurred.
    In the heart of chaos, oblivion lay,
    A kingdom where the lost found only their cries.

    In shadows of madness, in the whispers of night,
    The land remained bound in its own strange plight.
    Its fate was sealed in the fog and the dark,
    A never-ending loop, an eternal, eerie spark.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Darkness By The Sea

    Darkness By The Sea

    Darkness by the sea, the moon’s silver light cast a glow on the restless waves,
    Revealing the shadowed abyss where lay buried the deep ocean caves.
    A lighthouse stood as a lone sentinel, its beam weak and frail,
    Battling against the overwhelming, vast night and the whispering gale.

    The sea breathed out ancient secrets from chasms far below,
    Where creatures long forgotten in shadowy depths did grow.
    They muttered of shipwrecks, of sailors who were long lost,
    Of pacts with sinister devils and the terrible, heavy cost.

    On storm-laden nights when the sky split violently with blinding light,
    The sea revealed its raw fury, its boundless power, its dreadful might.
    Waves crashed like thunderous roars, tearing relentlessly at the shore,
    Unveiling the skeletal remains of the drowned, surfacing once more.

    A spectral figure emerged from the mist-laden, eerie gloom,
    A sailor, long dead, had risen from his long-forgotten doom.
    His eyes, hollow sockets, reflected the cold moon’s pale gleam,
    His voice was a chilling whisper, a wraith’s unsettling dream.

    His spectral voice softly sighed a warning of the sea’s haunting call,
    Luring with deceptive beauty that belied its darkened lies.
    He followed its siren song, its glittering promise of gold,
    Now he wandered the edges of its shores, his mournful story retold.

    The darkness by the sea held memories deeply steeped,
    Of lives that were taken, of secrets that silently seeped.
    Each wave was a haunting whisper, each tide was a sorrowful tear,
    From the restless souls of the lost who lingered far too near.

    Such were the dark tales that the vast ocean did keep,
    Of the restless spirits who wandered, of those who could not sleep.
    For the sea, in its eerie beauty, with its tempestuous glee,
    Held a darkness as deep as the abyss of the darkest sea.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Magic Library

    The Magic Library

    The magic library stood in the midst of the forest,
    Where shadows converged and time seemed to merge.
    Books whispered secrets in the dim candlelight,
    Pages turned by themselves in the depth of the night.

    The shelves groaned with volumes bound in dark leather,
    Their titles were elusive, shifting like the weather.
    Silent phantoms glided silently by,
    Their hollow eyes gleamed, no longer alive.

    Each book was a portal to realms far and wide,
    To curses and blessings that destinies guided.
    A tome with gold letters “Fates Intertwined,”
    Its tale was too unsettling for the timid souls.

    A dusty old grimoire with a clasp rusted shut,
    Unlocked with a whisper, a soft, secret cut.
    It spoke of enchantments, of magic once pure,
    Twisted by darkness and shadows that lured.

    A wanderer ventured into this spectral lair,
    Drawn by the stories that whispered of despair.
    A book of forgotten lore was opened,
    And vanished at once, the mystery deepened.

    The magic library under the moonlight,
    A realm of dark and magic tales took flight.
    Wandering aisles, where shadows convened,
    Whispers of secrets in every scene.

    The allure of this magical place,
    Where stories entangled and time had no trace.
    The magic library was wondrous and dreadful,
    It was a portal to lands that spirits found delightful.

    Within its vast halls, secrets long lay,
    Hidden in tomes with covers of decay.
    A volume of prophecies, bound in red,
    Spoke of a future where all hopes were dead.

    Some shadow once dared to decipher its stones,
    Seeking the knowledge that within it shone.
    But the words twisted, morphed, and blurred,
    Until sanity was no longer assured.

    Those who strolled into the magic library went lost and confused,
    By the magic and curses, the volumes were infused.
    Its whispers joined a spectral refrain,
    A cautionary tale of knowledge and pain.

    The magic library with its obscure corners, where shadows loomed thick,
    And ghosts lingered, bound by fate’s cruel trick.
    They sought wisdom, power, and truth,
    But found only madness trapped in their booth.

    The candles flickered, casting an eerie glow,
    On the grimace of those who no longer could show,
    Whether they lived or simply existed,
    In the magic library’s grasp, where time persisted.

    Brave adventurers with hearts full of fire,
    Accessed the spellbinding vault, led by desire.
    They sought out a legend, a tale of gold,
    Of riches and treasures, of secrets untold.

    They opened a chest with arcane symbols,
    Unleashed a force, they could not refrain.
    The shadows engulfed them, wrapped them tight,
    Leaving behind sighs in the pale moonlight.

    The forest grew still, the library suspended,
    Content with the stories of those who had strived.
    For in its dark heart, it harboured a truth:
    Knowledge is power, but often aloof.

    The magic library of days long past,
    Where ghouls were forever cast.
    For the magic it held was both wondrous and dire,
    A balance of wisdom and consuming fire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Arcane Tree

    The Arcane Tree

    The arcane tree, with ancient roots,
    Draped in mystery and twilight’s hue,
    Held secrets in its gnarled branches,
    A universe in each leaf’s dew.

    Its whispering boughs recounted stars,
    Eclipses lost to time’s embrace,
    Through ages past and futures scarred,
    The arcane tree revealed a sacred space.

    Beneath its boughs, the weary found
    A refuge from the world’s loud cries;
    Where thoughts were stilled, and dreams unwound,
    And pondered truths ascended skies.

    In its shade, ethereal dreams
    Found echoes of the cosmos’ edge,
    Where space and time were merged, refined,
    In the abyss of the universe.

    The tree’s deep roots, like ancient veins,
    Stretched through realms unseen by sight,
    Revealed secrets, primal strains
    Of cosmic mysteries and boundless night.

    The arcane tree, in silence grand,
    Bore witness to eternal change,
    Its branches reached across time’s span,
    Where stars and shadows danced in range.

    From whispered tales of distant spheres
    To secrets draped in midnight’s shroud,
    It held the wisdom of the shadows,
    In stillness, pure and deeply proud.

    Each leaf was a fragment of the whole,
    A tale inscribed in the darkest night,
    Revealing glimpses of dreams and visions,
    Where mystic realms and fantasy unite.

    The arcane tree stood timeless, wise,
    A beacon in the twilight’s gleam,
    A guide to realms where cryptic lore lay,
    And nightmares transcended dreams.

    It sheltered ancient memories,
    Of celestial wonders and fears,
    And every rustle in its leaves
    Spoke of long-forgotten spheres.

    The ancient bark, rough-hewn and scarred,
    Whispered tales of nightmares’ embrace,
    Memories of folly and joy,
    In moments lost, in endless space.

    The arcane tree stood ethereal, sage,
    A glimmer in the twilight’s gleam,
    A portal to realms where the impossible lay,
    And dreams transcended reality.

    In its embrace, the world grew dim,
    Lost in the vast, eternal sweep,
    Where ancient mysteries lured
    And revealed secrets softly seeped.

    A relic of forgotten epochs,
    Guarded realms, both seen and veiled,
    A reminder of stories untold
    In the shadow of profundity where light had failed.

    Every rustling leaf, a tale revealed,
    Every branch, a journey uncharted,
    The arcane tree, in its ancient world,
    Held truths that time had overthrown.

    Beneath its canopy, ghostly wanderers paused
    To seek the wisdom of the past,
    In every knot and ancient flaw,
    A universe of supreme silence cast.

    The nights prolonged, and the moon
    Draped silver sparkles on its form,
    The arcane tree, a timeless rune,
    Guarded through each raging storm.

    Its presence lingered in the dark,
    A symbol of the endless quest,
    A silent guide, an ancient mark,
    In shadows deep where dreams found rest.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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