Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: spirit

  • Torments Are My Delight

    Torments Are My Delight

    Torments are my delight and bliss
    I love to feel a pang piercing my heart
    I love to pine for love devotionally
    I live only in my dreams like a fairy
    Flying lightly from one flower to another one

    I’m an ethereal creature belonging to phantasmagorias
    I’m a little spirit of the night
    My heart is avid of passions and desires
    In my secret garden of lush and extravagance
    Torments are my solace and mirth

    My fate is a turmoil of unknown chaos
    Not paying attention to my fears
    I live carelessly as every day is my last day
    My senses are intoxicated by the scent of extravagant flowers
    And let my body surrender to lust in my haven of lush

    I wear an exquisite and magnificent gown made of tragedy
    My ethereal wings carry me everywhere I wish
    In sadness, I find refuge under the shadows of ancient trees
    In joy, I relish pursuing my dreams of oddities
    Safety is not my favourite word in the dictionary because I adore nightmares

    Every night, I crave to be consumed by the passion of my darkest fantasies
    In the darkness, I burn with the desire to be pierced by agony
    Gloomy shadows whisper my name, enticing me closer
    As I feel an ecstatic pain, I hesitate to surrender
    I’m so lost in the euphoria of torment’s kiss

    Each sigh of mine is like a melody of forbidden delights
    When pleasure and pain entwine in an endless embrace
    I welcome the darkness as its touches are so exquisite and deep
    I become a creature made of fire and fiery lust
    A blaze burns my heart at every stroke

    Every kiss carves a searing scar of longing on my skin
    As a reminder of the desires consuming me whole
    And in the flames, I’m reborn like a blooming blossom
    Torments are my delight and I surrender to the sweet agony of my lusts.
    Elisabetta

  • The Cursed Lighthouse

    The Cursed Lighthouse

    The cursed lighthouse stood up upon a cliff that stabbed the sky,
    The lighthouse stood in the wind and rain,
    Its beacon lost, its light gone dry,
    A relic cursed with endless pain.

    The waves below crashed cold and fierce,
    Their voices shrieking through the storm,
    The keeper’s cry, no soul to pierce,
    Echoes in the sea’s forlorn form.

    Its lantern room, now dark and bare,
    Once held the light to guide the lost,
    But now it waited in black despair,
    A beacon to the tempest’s cost.

    The keeper’s ghost still roamed the stairs,
    His footsteps echoed in the gale,
    A sorrowed man who knew the tales,
    Of mariners lost in the night’s labyrinth.

    The wind howled through the broken glasses,
    Its fury was tempered by regret,
    A haunting wail, a memory’s pass,
    Of lives lost to the sea’s dark bet.

    The foghorn’s moan, a mournful call,
    Rang out across the bitter sea,
    Yet no one heard its sorrowed fall,
    For all were lost to eternity.

    The cursed lighthouse stood, a spectral guard,
    It lights a memory of old,
    A curse upon its stones was marred,
    A tale of sorrow, dark and cold.

    And so it waited upon the cliff,
    To tell its tale through the tempest’s roar,
    A monument to those adrift,
    And the keeper’s soul always.

    The rain poured down in ghostly sheets,
    Its rhythm was lost in the ocean’s cry,
    The lighthouse wept as darkness met,
    The roiling waves that never died.

    Each lightning flash revealed the past,
    Of shipwrecked souls and broken dreams,
    Their voices lingered, shadows cast,
    In the storm’s relentless screams.

    The beacon’s light, once fierce and bright,
    Now, it faded into the tempest’s dread,
    A spectral glow in endless night,
    Where hope and light have been since dead.

    The keeper’s vigil never ended,
    His curse bound him to the storm,
    In waves and winds, his spirit wended,
    A haunting shape, forever mourned.

    Through mist and night, the story’s told,
    Of sorrow deep and spirits old.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • In The Metaphysical Realm Of Words

    In The Metaphysical Realm Of Words

    In the metaphysical realm of words
    Where beauty resides
    My untamed heart with passion abides
    Free verses fly guided by pure and bright emotions

    Words caress my soul
    Like gentle raindrops falling on the ground
    With whispers soft and profound
    Waves of dreams and desires unveil truths and ignite poetic fires

    In the depths of darkness, there is the light
    And eloquence paints the starry night
    Rhymes dance like fireflies in the sky
    Illuminating hearts as they depart towards desire, where all pain ends

    Through the pen, a silent voice expresses the voiceless
    Unveiling the unseen, the forgotten, and the timeless with empathy
    Poems, like melodies, linger in the air
    A symphony of emotions beyond compare

    The capture of moments, fleeting and divine
    Transcending time in each rhythmic line
    Might and grace trap words that are a relief in a world full of strife
    Through verses, reality heals and mends

    In the metaphysical realm of words
    Where thoughts and dreams are ethereal
    I wander through the cosmic maze
    Seeking truths in mysterious ways

    I delve into the depths of the mind
    Where consciousness and spirit bind
    Exploring realms beyond the seen
    Where reality and fantasy convene

    In the metaphysical realm of words, time loses its hold
    As I journey through stories untold
    The boundaries of existence blur
    As I traverse the metaphysical stir

    Visions of alternate dimensions unfold
    As my perception begins to behold
    The interconnectedness of all that is
    In this cosmic prom, where everything lives

    I ponder the nature of reality
    As I unravel the threads of discrepancies
    Seeking the essence that lies within the concealed and unknown
    In the depths of this metaphysical spin

    In the metaphysical realm of words, where thoughts dissolve in the aether
    I embrace the mysteries, day and night
    For in the metaphysical’s embrace
    I find solace, wonder, and endless grace

    So I let myself wander through the darkness and emptiness
    Exploring the depths of the invisible
    Unveiling the secrets that the universe holds
    Mysteries disguised in remembrances are forever kept in a treasure chest.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Dismal Feast

    A Dismal Feast

    A Dismal Feast

    The insane dismay of the veiled truth
    When everything is shattering under the pressure of the infamous time
    None can claim a beloved treasure
    Except for the cathartic destruction of material essence
    A dismal feast of desires and intuitions
    Slowly, enduring anguish penetrates the wandering souls
    A sublime soft pain tears every spirit into infinite and eternal fragments
    In a perpetual motion that invariably affects the universal peace
    A metaphorical lullaby of bliss and pain awakes all the luminaries
    Inducing an ecstatic joy and an immortal stillness of the unconsciousness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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