Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: surreal poetry

  • My Tainted Longings

    My Tainted Longings

    My tainted longings blossomed from the nocturnal obsessions that sought me in the mystery of darkness.

    I was a haunted creature living in a realm of oblivion and decay, feeding myself on otherworldly longing

    The havoc within my heart had turned me sharply to agony and darkness. My melancholic unsaid words had become my delicate descent.

    My wounded heart suffered silently in darkness like a relentless everlasting flame. A myriad of shadows enclosed me as if they were the souls of burnt flowers.

    In this decadent realm, I was the only spell-casting enchantress, so much so that I dared to fantasise that every dream of mine had become a haunting obsession.

    I was feeling utterly bewitched, willing to allure whoever crossed my path in the forest of despair and broken hearts.

    I had lost my innocence centuries ago, when the stars still showed only their pure, divine sparkle, for now my tainted and fragmenting soul was cast away by the very stars I had loved so tenderly.

    My tears melted the frosty soil into a swamp of gloom and dust, my only cherished refuge where I could paint crimson roses and pitch-black ravens.

    I had been crowned the queen of ghouls in my phantasmagoria, where multitudes of shadows sought to surround me in endless ways.

    What I had been offered was a treasure chest filled with arcane secrets and stardust. I belonged to the kingdom of oblivion and ghastliness.

    I could hear the idle wails of souls who had endured torments as severe as relentless thorns.

    I belonged to the void, and I had been forsaken by my fate. I was drowning in the infinite ocean of nothingness, and it seemed as if I had never been born.

    And that’s how I turned into a restless shadow, among the endless expanses of emptiness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Unloved And Still Alive

    Unloved And Still Alive

    Unloved and still alive
    Burning inside like a bursting candle
    Shunned by the stars
    Forsaken by my own fate
    I wandered in my idyllic imagination
    Careless about the consequences of my quest
    So in silence I remained, keeping my stillness and avoiding any apprehension
    I had been cast away from the realm of certitude
    And I had embraced the illusory world of swoon
    Embracing the unknown was my main aim
    Since I lived with the constant suspense of the unpredictability of the events that would unfold before me

    I saw the traces of shame on the walls of a glorious temple
    Remembering that once upon a time, they were covered with the names of those who once enjoyed privileges and gifts
    Although I saw their shadows fading in the void, I knew that their presence was there
    Underneath the oblivious dusty tapestries and carpets, there were the spirits of disgrace
    How long could that secrecy have been hidden?
    It was a question resonating in my mind
    How could it even have been possible to leave such a precious wall so tainted and hideous?

    A crowd of paid names was pasted onto ephemeral history
    Then, years later, it was peeled away, leaving one of the grand palace walls flayed by adhesive and a code of silence
    Names faded away like ethereal legends erased by the wear and tear of time
    Not even the wear and tear of their fake smiles and affected bows could erase what was obvious even to the marvellous works of that now decayed temple
    I saw but I didn’t forget
    Unloved and still alive
    I was an accidental witness to dreadfulness and grotesqueness
    Everything seemed to be so unreal and absurd I couldn’t even admit it as a bare reality and an ugly truth

    The sky was cloudy and the rain fell all over the magical palace with its infernal caves
    The more I walked erratically, the more I felt like I had lost the old version of myself
    I had drunk the poison of my intuitions that were verified by a harsh reality
    I had become inebriated on a potion that had been offered to me just when I didn’t want it
    And although the ghastliness prevailed, so did I
    I cherished my essence of a drama queen and goddess of darkness
    Since I chose to belong to the unseen world of dark shadows and enigmatic secrets

    Although I was unloved by mortals, I was still alive in various shapes like an ethereal creature of an invisible kingdom
    I had recreated myself from dust and ashes
    While the time slipped away like sand in the wind
    For I became what I could never have imagined
    A lost butterfly in an abyss of turmoil and deceit, overflowing my imagination with illusory chimaeras
    I endured a world of wretchedness and cynicism, facing every horror wrought by mortals
    At the very end, there was never an end
    The decay of the perishable world never ceased, but it persisted inexorably
    And I stared at the stars as the only act of salvation for my lonely and broken heart.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Seeking Dreams

    Seeking Dreams

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a winter night with no stars but only a mystical fog and gloomy clouds. Not even a bird was flying in the leaden and dark sky. Only the clouds were gazing at me like curious observers, and the wind whispered legends of despair to me.

    I signed and dreamed of ocean floors paved with diamonds and stars. I fantasised about mermaids lost in submerged islands, and snow-capped waterfalls on remote cliffs. Time faded away when I was dreaming. Not even the impetuous cold rain could distract me from my nightdreaming.

    Foolishness never abandoned me, while I was consumed by my passionate longings, which brought me to the edge of the universe. Wonderful darkness enticed me, and I summoned my own demons and spirits, surrounded by exquisite midnight flowers.

    Folly and wisdom accompanied me in my everlasting journey to a netherworld descent. Though I have visited heavens and abysses, boundless valleys and inaccessible mountains, I have always ended up at the very same point of origin, namely my archaic abyss of despair.

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a frosty night with no glimmering lights but only a ghostly haze and dismal shadows. No living creature crept close to me, but only wraiths and eerie ghouls, which kept following me in every abode and realm I dwelled in.

    I foresaw my decay and the obliteration of all my dreams that I had sought for so long in vain. Drowning in the emptiness and losing my heart, became a nightmare of mine under the shape of an incubus visiting my slumber. Arcane verses, evoking a magic spell, were engraved on my soul.

    Scarlet flowers adorned my hair that flowed on my face, while my tears of sorrow soaked the frozen soil. Nightmares and thorns poisoned my never-ending nights, tainting the sky with chaos. Numbed and mesmerised by swirling griefs that never hesitated to tarnish my keenness, I softly succumbed to my unavoidable demise.

    While seeking dreams, I harboured enemies in my soul, fooling myself with obsessions that left indelible marks in my senses. I had to renounce being myself and let the darkness swallow all my desires. In a realm of liminality, I was cast away and compelled to endure agony.

    Abandoned in my dismay, I found no solace. I metamorphosed into sorrow. I became what I had feared the most, the very thing that had damaged my heart. I ended up in loneliness and turmoil, seeing my own reflection staring back at me in fractured and disfigured mirrors.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.

    Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.

    The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.

    Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.

    I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.

    Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.

    Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.

    I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Burnt Flowers

    Burnt Flowers

    Burnt flowers became ashes of anguish and despair
    Within a realm full of wonders and sorrow
    Snowflakes were melting into stars and flames
    In the liminal space between night and day
    Where the fury of storms encountered the hush of eternity
    And the only melody I could hear was a solemn refrain
    Feeling feverish and mortified at once
    Feeling alive and fading indefinitely
    I began to see glowing flowers in my garden
    Every magnificent blossom trembled in silent anguish
    But I felt a deep delight and bliss
    Reminding myself that I would vanish alone
    In an ocean of sorrow and tears
    Without any consolation
    Without any farewell or elegy

    Once faded away
    I became an obsidian raven
    Insolent and powerful
    Finding my amusement in whispering omens to mortals and sleeping atop withered trees
    I enjoyed being surrounded by the scent of burnt flowers and incense
    My supreme merriment was being caressed by the gleaming flames
    And observing how easily mortals were undone by ruin and dissolution
    I could freely smile in front of their astonished countenances
    Although I had always aimed to be cherished
    Although I had always wanted to be adored
    All that I could attain was only a box of relics and thorns

    Who, indeed, could ever have consoled me?
    Among the shadows surrounding me
    Only a frozen indifference was offered to me in a silver cornucopia
    With shady candles and fragments of seashells
    Sipping sweet poison and bitter elixirs made me a sorceress
    I was detached from the world of ghosts and illusions
    By intentionally becoming a creature of the nether realm
    Although the sky belonged to me as well
    Burning quietly from within to make my existence bearable
    Every pang was a blissful yearning, and my body could perceive its intensity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Bliss And Euphoria

    Bliss And Euphoria

    Bliss and euphoria pervaded my delightful and exquisite nights,
    As dreams and passions drifted like evanescent rose petals.

    Traversing the infinite corridors of the labyrinth of my imagination,
    I surrendered to the magnificence of the gardens of crimson roses.

    I let the solemn depth of the night touch my heart in silence,
    And allowed the shadows of darkness to linger around me.

    The fractures within my soul mirrored the twilight, and the stars stared at me,
    In a game of love and demise, where I was the main character.

    There weren’t any more winter mornings, nor summer evenings,
    The only perpetual season was the frosty nighttime.

    Indeed, time had been obliterated,
    And my heart had sunk deep into the abyss of deception.

    Surrounded by ashes and spider webs, I have faded away as many times as there are stars in the sky.

    I had become a devotee of my own grotesque fantasies, secluded in my castle of tragedies, gloomy phantasmagorias and sighs of grief.

    Feeding myself with enchanted spells, magic elixirs and frosty flowers, I was wandering in my realm of nightmares and shadows.

    Wraiths and demons hid behind ancient dusty ruins and brambles, while a blizzard was stroking the several withered flowers and dead trees.

    Bliss and euphoria touched my heart like radiant arrows, making me lose every glimmer of wisdom.
    I could feel joy and pang all over my body, although anguish didn’t spare my soul.

    The cynical sorrow had seized my fate with its menacing grip, leaving my heart languishing under a startling vexation.

    Sharp thorns and scarlet roses were climbing over me in my garden of love and oblivion, willing to surrender to such a wicked destiny.

    Therefore, it happened that I was crowned the Queen of Darkness, under an arcane oath with the vow of never looking back nor ever regretting my belonging to the realm of doom.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Buried Memories

    Buried Memories

    Buried memories unearthed in my subconscious during my journeys of lost and unknown dreams in places and times unknown to me and of which I perceived only fragments of memory that I kept to myself.

    Joys and sorrows dwelled in my heart, which knew no peace, and was constantly pierced by anguish and anxiety, as well as sorrowful memories full of resentment and regrets.

    I woke up with the anguish of memories and the worries that clung to me like invisible chains.
    And the clock struck ten past ten,
    It seemed as though the bells had rung,
    And the stillness around me revealed
    How my anxieties and anguish were fleeting realities,
    And though heavy, they could vanish into nothingness.

    The sadness—or melancholy, as it may be defined by words—was like an endless abyss within my heart, and it was that very sadness which had carved deep wounds that continued to bleed and had never healed. Time, in the end, had not fulfilled its duty, and the oblivion of my pains and sufferings had not completed its task.

    Lying in an inhospitable and unknown cemetery, I found myself in my solitude and in the most deafening silence.
    The crimson mist hovered around like a spirit both present and dominant within that mysterious and twilight aura.

    I felt how anguish mingled with my fears, as if, despite having lost everything, I would… I had doubted whether to descend further into the abyss of despair.

    And as the wind enveloped me in its coldness and its silent softness, so, in the very same moment, it was as though I had found myself in a new reality, a new realm, unfamiliar to me.

    If I were to find myself in the realm of lost, recovered, buried and unearthed memories, I would not know it—nor shall I ever—for my visions were like hallucinations, as if all of it were born of my own fantasies, my nocturnal nightmares, and my waking daydreams.
    Elisabetta

  • Betrayed Dreams

    Betrayed Dreams

    Betrayed dreams were trapped in a dim chasm where fates were doomed.
    Whispered tales revealed fate’s cruel descent.
    Beneath the moon’s cold, watchful gaze,
    Lay the past where hopes had died.

    In twilight’s hush, the atmosphere grew eerie,
    As dark secrets began to whirl.
    Dreams once woven with silver threads,
    Turned pale and dim, cold and dead.

    In forgotten rooms where laments wept,
    Silent murmurs invoked dreams and illusions.
    Through the misty veils of sorrow’s shroud,
    Wandering ghouls summoned long-lost regrets.

    In a garden wild with brambles and thorns,
    Where happiness and brightness once had rambled,
    Stood a phantom, cold and stark,
    Guarding the graves of dreams now dark.

    Waves of delight faded, turning into wails,
    In the dark night where truth had been belied.
    Promises shattered like fragile crystal,
    In the shadows of a tarnished past.

    In cobbled roads beneath the fog,
    Lay the remnants of melancholic memories.
    Once hopeful verses now turned to dust,
    In the silence, everything had disintegrated.

    The clock hands moved in mournful time,
    Marking the end of each hope’s chime.
    In the stillness of the darkness, remembrances stirred,
    Of betrayed dreams, now gone, forsaken.

    The fire’s warmth, now cold and dim,
    The light of hope was no longer trimmed.
    In the ashes of what once had gleamed,
    Lay the remnants of betrayed dreams.

    In twilight’s arms, where shadows slumbered,
    Lay the legend of dreams that had once lived in the labyrinth of imagination.
    In the garden of whispered winds and silent screams,
    Shadows danced upon the traces of bygone dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Silent Darkness

    Silent Darkness

    Silent darkness lay among the garden of dreams and nightmares,
    Illusions and chimaeras blossomed into alluring flowers,
    Under the sight of a dark night sky studded with stars.

    Solemn promises of failed loves and altered desires were the guardians of this sacred alcove,
    A garden immersed in a silent darkness.

    Moonlight glimmered, illuminating the scene with a spectral glow,
    Casting shadows that moved with a ghostly grace.
    Fragments of forgotten vows were scattered through the still air,
    As the past intertwined itself with the present.

    Each petal was exhausted by the burden of memories,
    Infuse with the fragrance of longing and regret.
    The trees loomed eternal, their branches like skeletal arms,
    Reaching out to caress the fabric of the night.

    In this garden, time halted to flow,
    Instants frozen in a fragile web.
    Dreams entangled with nightmares,
    Creating an ethereal veil of beauty and despair.

    A mild breeze stirred the leaves of decay,
    A sigh of the universe manifesting in the dark night.
    A wind that carried the essence of lost yearnings,
    Revealing secrets to those who dared to imagine fantasy worlds.

    Beneath the ancient oak, a stone throne lay,
    Weathered by the passage of countless seasons.
    It kept the marks of periods of solace and delight,
    In the embrace of the garden’s silent refuge.

    The stars above bore a timeless glint,
    Glimpses of the tales created in this secret place.
    They shimmered like distant lanterns,
    Guiding daring wandered through the labyrinth of dreams.

    Silent darkness obscured the night,
    A solitary warder of the fragile beauty.
    It draped the garden in an eternal silence,
    Holding its enigmas in the chasms of the night.

    The secret garden was the dwelling of dreams and nightmares,
    Where delusions and mirages flourished,
    Silent darkness lingered as a timeless protection of an invisible realm.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Realm Of Solitude And Death

    The Realm Of Solitude And Death

    The realm of solitude and death was the reality of the empirical world,
    Where the paroxysm of loud emptiness and obscenity extinguished the frail beauty and delight.

    Somewhere between the darkness and light, there was a realm of lost desires,
    With no expectations left but only a bitter awareness.

    Soft-spoken words, once tender like nocturnal whispers, were swallowed by the abyss of emptiness,
    Their gentle promises were gripped by a greedy void that rendered them meaningless.

    In such a harsh landscape, beauty was turned into a fleeting spectre, easily consumed by the relentless nothingness,
    Delight, once magnificent and resplendent, had withered under the weight of pervasive desolation.

    Dreams and aspirations lay scattered, their essence extinguished by the crushing weight of a cruel reality,
    Echoes of unfulfilled longings were carved on the cold stones of a barren infinity, starkly contrasting with dreams.

    Every utterance, every mellow promise, disappeared into the darkness,
    The silence, absolute and isolating, caused even the most earnest expressions of feelings to be meaningless.

    The realm of solitude and death induced fragments of hope and beauty to be forever eclipsed,
    Forever forsaken in the relentless march of blankness and sorrow.

    Crying out of despair was just useless because of the imperishable cruelty of fate.
    All the ghostly puppets were powerless, and with time, they believed only to be worthless.

    The terrific silence of the annihilation echoed in the entire universe,
    Where the obscurity destroyed even the faintest flicker of light.

    In this vast emptiness, the stars seemed to mourn in their loneliness; their once bright glow was now reduced to a cold, apathetic shimmer.

    The veil of existence was but a thin cloth, easily torn by the ceaseless winds of despair, leaving behind only relics of bygone days.

    Amidst this astral desolation, expectations lay buried beneath layers of relentless darkness, suffocated by the heaviness of the eternal void.

    Each moment persisted, a remembrance of the unyielding nature of this forsaken realm, where the past and future dissolved into an infinite abyss of sorrow.

    And so, the abyss of solitude and death remained, an unending memento of the demise of lost dreams, where even echoes of existence faded into eternal quietness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2026. All rights reserved.