Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: storms

  • 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

  • Ecstatic Beauty

    Ecstatic Beauty

    Ecstatic beauty reigned in frenzies and storms
    In the castle of dreams, magnificence was shrouded in the mist of mystery
    A sanctuary of shining stars and dark shadows
    A throne of sagas and lost kingdoms
    Where secrets lingered in the silence of forgotten ages

    Listening to the melody of silence under the shadows of an ancient tree
    I rose from my slumber, thinking about my crushed dreams
    It was like my heart stopped pounding
    And I could feel pins of dismay piercing it
    Suddenly, I realised that I was a doll made of rags

    I was no longer in the material world of reality
    I was in a utopia that had the scent of nightmares
    The ecstatic beauty of my fantasies was disappearing
    Instead, I was surrounded by an overwhelming stillness
    While a suffocating silence pressed against my chest

    The colourful shades that once tinted my dreams faded into ashen hues
    And the aura was filled with regrets
    I felt the heft of forgotten longings
    As if the very ground beneath me was swallowing every fragment of my soul
    The dreams that once ignited my spirit now seemed distant luminaries

    All the stars were lost in the vast and endless abyss
    And I was alone, surrounded by fears and uncertainties
    The cold breeze that was once gentle now howled like an anguished wail
    Becoming the messenger of voices that had long since been hushed
    I strived to reach for something but I could only grasp the emptiness

    No ecstatic beauty was there anymore
    Indeed, it was a souvenir of the dreams I could never touch
    The darkness stretched endlessly
    Wrapping itself around me
    A cloak of gloom I could not escape

    In this realm, where no answer could have been found
    Only enigmas were echoing in the quietness
    And in that startling silence, I realized that my castle of dreams had crumbled to dust
    And I was just a forgotten soul left to wander its ruins.
    Elisabetta

  • 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

  • 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

  • Supreme Desolation

    Supreme Desolation

    Supreme desolation in an oasis of lifeless dreams,
    Astray of the night and sweet memories of a time when the sun shined on the sky,
    Longings and phobias of a distant past and future melted away,
    In the sour taste of emptiness and darkness.

    Sorrows and grief descended upon the forest of joy and delight,
    Bringing despair and pain as incessant raindrops,
    While vanities vanished like phantoms in the void,
    Faraway from every hope and dream.

    A soft and untamed doom bloomed all over the silent night,
    Wherever a flower of death rose from the gardens of destruction,
    As a chaotic fate would have decided to the frost winds,
    In an abyss of storms and transformations.

    Supreme desolation of monotonous clouds,
    Among the many discoloured horizons of faded lights,
    When the skies are dark and mendacious like dirty lies,
    Betrayal of mischief and mediocrity.

    Hallucinations and nightmares ruled the night,
    Ready to illude and trap the enduring dreamers,
    In the realm of distorted shadows of repetitive and emotionless events,
    Slowly dissolving like snowflakes through the everlasting flames of intemperance.

    Sad fears gave way to hateful revenge,
    In an oblivious reality where silence screamed the loudest,
    Amongst ruins and remnants of lost strives,
    Eclipsed by the weight of forgotten sorrows.

    Within this bleak infinity, whispers and sighs indulged,
    Specs of what once was a chimaera now seeking renewal,
    In the depths of a vicious and relentless aether,
    A flicker of forsakenness, however faint, emerged.

    In the heart of desolation, there lay a spectre,
    A cruel reminder that amidst the gloom, dread endured,
    Though buried in the shadows of despair,
    Its faint glow ensnared the weary and enthusiastic souls in torment.

    The night stretched on, and dreams grew twisted,
    For in the darkest hours, only the abyss waited patiently,
    And from the ashes of anguish and despair,
    No dawn would have risen; only endless obscurity persisted.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The melancholy of abandoned hopes,
    In the abyss of the night, where shadows softly crept, dwelled the realm of sorrow and wept,
    Underneath the moon’s pale and ghostly glow,
    While the whispering woes of the night winds blew.

    Sorrow’s realm dwelled in the shadows and hid in the abyss of the night,
    Where secrets slept among ancient ruins of failed dreams,
    Ivy grew so thick to lurk the sorrow of abandoned and sick illusions,
    Once-bright ambitions now faded and torn.

    Hope lay buried in silence, where it was once born,
    In the emptiness and void of senses, now haunting and cold,
    Reverberating through halls where bliss and peace once strolled,
    Whose walls, now crumbling, spoke of days gone by.

    When hearts were full and spirits high,
    In the broken windows, only reflections of despair,
    Glimpsed spirits and ghouls who lingered, forever ensnared in hollowed traps of disdain,
    Their eyes, like sunken wells, devoid of light, told of battles lost in endless nights of death.

    The aether became thick with whispers of unkept promises,
    Of futures once envisioned, now silently swept away,
    By wild storms with hurling winds of mournful cruelty,
    Ghostly sighs carrying remnants of gloomy cries.

    Beneath the withered trees, where no sunlight dared to tread,
    Lay the remnants of fantasies, now cold and dead,
    The branches twisted with an agony within,
    Reached out in silent torments to the void they were in.

    In this sombre place, where hope had lost its way,
    Each step echoed the grief of past times,
    The path was dark, lined with ashes of despair,
    Leading to a chasm of obliviousness laying bare.

    In the crevasse of infinite melancholy, where abandonment reigned,
    The heartbeats slowed, bound by invisible chains,
    For in the land where wishes were left behind,
    Only the sorrow of shadows could be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Time Has Slipped Away

    Time Has Slipped Away

    Time has slipped away as fast as pouring rain
    In the dark and sunny sky
    Emptiness and fragility are made in a storm
    There’s sunshine on every side of your nest
    The wind sings through the grass with warm trees
    In snowstorms in winter, I have thrived
    Time has slipped away as fast as pouring rain
    As the world should have a chance to exist
    The sun is bright, always more everywhere
    Rocks of storms hit the morning as it changes
    Not so far
    Life was created before memories
    A loss shall come into every dream
    And nevermore were the birds singing
    In a world that might be born again today
    Time has slipped away as fast as pouring rain
    Raindrops were similar to a breeze sweeping the leaves of summer
    And when autumn will change its essence
    The daytime might not be warm forever
    It shall dwell, but not in this fate
    That does only come to see night again
    in a lost day when memories were born
    Memories become shattered
    whenever tears could have been spent on death,
    Not enough before all happiness was lost
    Even if I never had back my sorrows again
    Time has slipped away as fast as pouring rain
    Like an early spring day of the year
    The time had disappeared
    Whenever the wind and the clouds move toward my eyes
    Every pointless fear is so far beyond me
    My dreams can stand glum but cannot be seen or remembered again
    Before I aim to be alive
    Timeless visions are made of unperceivable illusions and phantasmagorias
    Time has slipped away as fast as pouring rain
    And remarkable beauty resides in true peace
    Whilst a reckless creation is an obscure snare
    Trying to climb on illusory and fierce mirrors
    Which are sliding doors to deceitful opportunities.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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