El Árbol sobre la Colina

Bringing back the forgotten flowers to Reality

War with(out) you

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , on 10:49

26 July 2016
Blessed be thy hate, by Katya-h

Where are you now?
Hiding in the back of your word
Caressing other people’s minds
Suffering your faith,
laughing at mine.

Will you send word to me?
Of your heaven’s delight
Of the secrets of your Order
Of your days’ glories,
My harship, divine.

Are you keeping company at night?
My soul wishes you an Irish blessing
In other, the darkest eyes
Giving you warmth and solace,
The most ancient desire.

Will you spare me touch and vision?
My eyes repeating in loud voices
Each of your wee lullabies,
Singing compulsive odes
Of duties, treason and your heart.

Will I succumb deranged?
Worlds colliding in my blinking eye
Division reviving my deepest ambition:
Your side, that is battling
My memories, dwelling of mine!

Easy come, easy go

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , , , on 19:03

16 July 2016

Tristan and Isolde, John William Waterhouse

You’ve tempted me in a life declaration
With your ancient enlightenment
And I crave for Sophia in your embrace,
In that very gone moment.
You called me through blood maps
With your senses thirst
And I fell for the ancient hoax
In the starvation of my ghost.
You’ve fled through the morning mist
With your verb hostile
And I died for a second in the draught
In the perennial desire.
You’ve planted a seed of destruction
With the lenient touch
And I am burning alive in the silence,
In this loathsome void.
And you continue to plant those desires
With the skill of a cavalier…
And I await in the stillness of my shadows
War manifesto or the pettiest of your tales.

The tear beneath

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , , , on 23:36

13 July 2016

It is painful a laugh
At the drowning scene
It is torture to love
At the dawn of the Young age.

And to bleed is a lonely labour
For tears are only for thee
And to pretend is an empty candour
When the scuffle is beneath.

It is a dreadful vision
Blind bullets, bitter concord
It is that crystalline prison
Comfy home, draining patrol.

Here I am lost in a garden of my own
For the dark dimensions are endless
And impossible we roam alone in our blood
No touch, no consolation, no caresses.

Recipe of the Life

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , , , , , on 23:24

6 July 2016
Illustration Endless cycle by G1mm1ck

I was the daughter of the Sun
Running blindly to the Darkness
Innocent songs of wishes, desires
Guiding this will in sin, the hunter.

I was a disciple of Artemis
Running wild into Fierceness
Loud elegies of vision, faith
Growing this will in regret, the repentant.

I was a wanderer of the Forest
Running relieved from the pain
Penitent eulogies of love, kindness
Draining my will with blood, the druid.

I am an Alchemist of the Moon
Roaming blissfully in my surrender
Lustful odes of my Nature, ambitions
Making my will alive, the unknown.

Of the Lost & the Found

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , , , , on 23:14

13 July 2016

I burn absolute as the Zero
Paths of decay against the light
And you cry, you cry.
I smile as evil as the fierce Nature
Surrender to me in your delight
And you shine, you shine.
I lose myself in the crowds and the bodies
Broken pieces of my life in need
And you weep, you miss.
I come back home, prodigal and yielding
Wanting the strips of my kindred lost
At peace you, here at the West, them on the East.

Illustration Through the looking-glass by Agnes Cecile

El silencio en tu recuerdo

Published by Olalla Gabrielle under , , , , , on 22:56

17 mayo 2012

Es el silencio que mata
me devuelve a un mínimo estado,
a la más pura debilidad,
a los más arraigados temores.
Es tu rostro que veo
perdido en el Tiempo que rechacé,
atrapado en recuerdos construidos,
entre burbujas de polvo,
en los agujeros de mi memoria.
Y aunque es mi egoísmo quien hoy llora,
se queda muda la ciega Señora
porque no quiere creer
el testimonio que ante mí se revela:
¡tanto dolor en pago, en pago tanto dolor!
Las cuentas no se borran con los años
y te veo pagar, pagar con sangre,
mientras el alma no puede más que llorar,
y el cuerpo, el cuerpo menguar.
Se hacen duros estos labios,
y el corazón enciende la carrera
tratando de no quedarse atrás,
pero nadie se queda contigo
y el cuerpo sigue el chueco andar,
y aunque quiera regresar, allá va, él va.

Illustration by Greyguardian