Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: rose garden

  • The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The Struggle Is Part Of My Life

    The struggle is part of my life
    As well as my desire to love and be loved
    My poetry is the reflection of my soul
    I am too shy to exist
    And I might be obsessed with passionate love
    My feelings are always intense
    Like a deep crimson rose garden
    Flowers could be one of my obsessions
    My ardent desire pierces my soul
    Shattering it into pieces
    I would love to be a bright star in the obscurity of the night
    I would love to be a sublime orchid lost in a lush tropical garden
    I never stop to wonder about life
    Dreaming is the breathing of my soul
    I have infinite love inside my heart
    Passions overwhelm my mind
    Sighs and tears would return every night
    Lying awake in my bed and closing my eyes
    All kind of fantasies would seize my mind.
    Esther Racah

  • My Secret Rose Garden

    My Secret Rose Garden

    My Secret Rose Garden

    I am timid and an introvert
    I don’t have any tattoos
    Nevertheless, memories are engravings on my mind
    I let the wind carry me like a small leaf
    Not caring about the circumstances that might happen
    Sometimes, my soul’s pain perturbs my secret rose garden
    I might be bizarre since I wear only dresses
    Daydreaming most of the time
    Whilst surrounded by bouquets of tuberoses, jasmines and crimson roses
    Uncertain is my future life
    Fragile like a tiny crystal flower
    Listening to a Chopin’s Prelude
    While the darkness embraces me and I lay languidly on my bed
    Thinking and dreaming
    Love is a delightful pain that bewilders my soul
    And the more I love, the more I desire to love.
    Esther Racah

  • Daydreaming

    Daydreaming

    Daydreaming

    And she was daydreaming of an ancient castle and rose gardens
    Wearing a gold and silk gown and a tiara made of shining stars
    Around the neck, a string of pearls was illuminating her pale face
    She was surrounded by crystals, paintings, silver mirrors and ancient furniture
    The moon was shining in her magnificence, and the roses were in full bloom in the garden
    Her own dreams enslaved her
    She could not exist outside her visions
    Every time she was crying in the garden, a rose blossomed
    Every time she was dreaming, a star was glowing
    She aimed to love and be loved
    Nevertheless, she was imaginary because she was made of her own dreams.
    Esther Racah

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