Poetry Workshop, February 2011: Glosa

[EroticOrogeny]

Thanks - quite interesting. A lot more info than could easily get by googling.
Waiting further instructions ...

 

[Lauren Hynde]

So the way I read it, the mote is like a fervent, arrogant kiss on the lips, in which I share my desires. Then I back off with the glosa, and offer hints, not so much an apology, but a more subtle sense of my passion with kisses to the throat, the neck, the shoulders. Still as fervent, yet not so blatant. Still as passionate, but more of message that lingers in the telling.

That's pretty much the gist of it, yes.

 

[butters]

So the way I read it, the mote is like a fervent, arrogant kiss on the lips, in which I share my desires. Then I back off with the glosa, and offer hints, not so much an apology, but a more subtle sense of my passion with kisses to the throat, the neck, the shoulders. Still as fervent, yet not so blatant. Still as passionate, but more of message that lingers in the telling.

^^ i like this guy! he writes it purty...

That's pretty much the gist of it, yes.

oh well in that case i am definitely sitting next to him to crib.

 

[butters]

Yep. I'll need surgery.

you worry too much. it'll be ...



fine.
no surgery required.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Are we going to get some examples to work from please?

 

[serpentwrap]

And I always thought glosa was a form of Spanish poetry, and never did become popular in English. Well, should have known better...

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Never is a long time, we're starting a trend.

Annie, I'll post an example later today, and tomorrow we can start with a simple exercise.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Never is a long time, we're starting a trend.

Annie, I'll post an example later today, and tomorrow we can start with a simple exercise.

Thanks sugar please be gentle

 

[Lauren Hynde]

An example. This Glosa was actually the first published poem by Fernando Pessoa, at the tender age of 14, in July 18, 1902.

I am posting the original version along with the translation, because this particular translation takes some liberties with the form.

The original is a perfect example of poetry bound to the motif, with each line of the Mote being repeated as the last line of each of the Glosa stanzas. Additionally, all Glosa stanzas follow the same a-b-a-b rhyme scheme present in the Mote, as well as a consistent meter of eight syllables per line.

The translation is more concerned with transmitting the spirit of the poem than its structure, and therefore it ignores both rhyme scheme and meter. The first line of the Mote appears as the third line of the first Glosa stanza, instead of being the fourth line, and is slightly altered.



[td]--- Mote

Teus olhos, contas escuras,
São duas Ave Marias
D'um rosário d'amarguras
Que eu rezo todos os dias.


--- Glosa

Quando a dor me amargurar,
Quando sentir penas duras,
Só me podem consolar
Teus olhos, contas escuras.

Deles só brotam amores,
Não há sombras d'ironias
Esses olhos sedutores
São duas Ave Marias.

Mas se a ira os vem turvar
Fazem-me sofrer torturas
E as contas todas rezar
D'um rosário d'amarguras.

Ou se os alaga a aflição
Peço p'ra ti alegrias
N'uma fervente oração
Que rezo todos os dias!
------------------------------------------------[/td][td]--- Motif

Your eyes, dark beads,
Are two Ave Marias
In a rosary of sorrows
That I pray every day.


--- Gloss

When suffering embitters me,
When I feel sharp pains,
Only your eyes, dark beads,
Can console me.

From them love alone burst forth,
With no shades of irony.
Those seductive eyes
Are two Ave Marias.

But if anger should cloud them over
Then I suffer tortures
And I pray with all the beads
In a rosary of sorrows.

Or if grief wells up in them
I ask happiness for you
In a fervent prayer
That I pray every day!
------------------------------------------------[/td]

 

[Angeline]

An example. This Glosa was actually the first published poem by Fernando Pessoa, at the tender age of 14, in July 18, 1902.

I am posting the original version along with the translation, because this particular translation takes some liberties with the form.

The original is a perfect example of poetry bound to the motif, with each line of the Mote being repeated as the last line of each of the Glosa stanzas. Additionally, all Glosa stanzas follow the same a-b-a-b rhyme scheme present in the Mote, as well as a consistent meter of eight syllables per line.

The translation is more concerned with transmitting the spirit of the poem than its structure, and therefore it ignores both rhyme scheme and meter. The first line of the Mote appears as the third line of the first Glosa stanza, instead of being the fourth line, and is slightly altered.



[td]--- Mote

Teus olhos, contas escuras,
São duas Ave Marias
D'um rosário d'amarguras
Que eu rezo todos os dias.


--- Glosa

Quando a dor me amargurar,
Quando sentir penas duras,
Só me podem consolar
Teus olhos, contas escuras.

Deles só brotam amores,
Não há sombras d'ironias
Esses olhos sedutores
São duas Ave Marias.

Mas se a ira os vem turvar
Fazem-me sofrer torturas
E as contas todas rezar
D'um rosário d'amarguras.

Ou se os alaga a aflição
Peço p'ra ti alegrias
N'uma fervente oração
Que rezo todos os dias!
------------------------------------------------[/td][td]--- Motif

Your eyes, dark beads,
Are two Ave Marias
In a rosary of sorrows
That I pray every day.


--- Gloss

When suffering embitters me,
When I feel sharp pains,
Only your eyes, dark beads,
Can console me.

From them love alone burst forth,
With no shades of irony.
Those seductive eyes
Are two Ave Marias.

But if anger should cloud them over
Then I suffer tortures
And I pray with all the beads
In a rosary of sorrows.

Or if grief wells up in them
I ask happiness for you
In a fervent prayer
That I pray every day!
------------------------------------------------[/td]

You're such a show off about that Pessoa!

 

[UnderYourSpell]

This is one I did for survivor but I promise to do another

A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours.

Leo Marks

This is part of the 'code poem' for Violette Szabo who was shot in the back of the head in a concentration camp in 1945, holding the hands of two other Special Operations Executive agents. Filmed as Carve her name with Pride.

I'll go not to this dark alone
nor hide beneath the stone
a sleep I shall have
sisters kneel but we are never prone.

Hands that now are clasping mine
so will our hearts combine
a rest I shall have
my labours done behind the enemy line.

What matters where my body lay
released from torture on this day
yet death will be but a pause
my soul shall rise above the fray.

I see my home in my minds eye
life has been just a passing sigh
for the peace of my years
not lost even in this last goodbye.

To look to the sky as in a dream
beauty of earth below would seem
in the long green grass
reflected my final passing gleam.

Left behind on these foreign shores
a heart so true my spirit soars
given to you a freedom paid
will be yours and yours and yours.

 

[butters]

The original is a perfect example of poetry bound to the motif, with each line of the Mote being repeated as the last line of each of the Glosa stanzas. Additionally, all Glosa stanzas follow the same a-b-a-b rhyme scheme present in the Mote, as well as a consistent meter of eight syllables per line

so,

any number of lines for the mote? (though i'd keep it short, to 4 for now)
8 syllables per line
abab
each consec mote line takes its place as fourth line/last line in the following verses?

if i have that right, then i can see what happens when i try one out

 

[Liar]

so,

any number of lines for the mote? (though i'd keep it short, to 4 for now)
8 syllables per line
abab
each consec mote line takes its place as fourth line/last line in the following verses?

if i have that right, then i can see what happens when i try one out

If I got all this right, the 8 syllables and abab rhyme is not a constant. Rather, it is that way since the Mote was that way.

So whatever you write should match the meter and scheme of your chosen Mote.

Amirite, Teach?

 

[Liar]

Now, to find me a Mote that doesn't make me want to snort sawdust...

 

[butters]

If I got all this right, the 8 syllables and abab rhyme is not a constant. Rather, it is that way since the Mote was that way.

So whatever you write should match the meter and scheme of your chosen Mote.

Amirite, Teach?

ah, ok... (i'm gonna stick with simplest first, i think)

ty

 

[butters]

Now, to find me a Mote that doesn't make me want to snort sawdust...

if it's written online, does it make it an e-mote?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

ah, ok... (i'm gonna stick with simplest first, i think)

ty

mary had a little ......

 

[Angeline]

I've done a few and I don't always put the line from the mote in the same place in each strophe. I'll even enjamb with them if it makes the poem sound better to me. I've seen other modern glosas that do that, too.

Here's one of mine:

If hands could free you, heart,
Where would you fly?
Far, beyond every part
Of earth this running sky
Makes desolate? Would you cross
City and hill and sea,
If hands could set you free?
~ Philip Larkin, If Hands Could Free You, Heart

If hands could free you, heart,
from drumless rhythms, oceans
or fragmented falls of rain,
all different, distant yet the same
beating from miles apart.

The continent can not divide
the whisper of you, heart:
the tap of truth spoken
one letter at a time.

If hands could free you
with the feathered power
of a rhyme, where would you fly?
What music would you paint
if song could fill your eye,
recall the scattered tears

far beyond every part
of prescience, child years
that catch each flake of hope
upon the tip of smiles.

Our compasses of earth,
this running sky, make desolate
the hourglass of past.
Where would you cross
the hidden line from first
to last: heaven and earth,
city and hill and sea?

Where would you plant your dreams
if hands could set you free?

_______________

And another:

Glosa: Winter Harbor


To others she appeared anew
At times of dusky light,
But always, so they told, withdrew
From close and curious sight.
~ Thomas Hardy

To others she appeared anew each dawn,
trod her widow's watch above the sea
and cast her gaze along the jagged beach.
She did not look beyond the tide for me

among the ships that passed. At times
of dusky light when waking day triumphs
the stars perhaps she breathed my name
against the wind, shared secrets with the coast,

but always, so they told, withdrew
into the dewy glass. They say she
is a ghost. I am. There is nothing here
save a barren house, sand and sky
where gull cries herald shadowed flight.

She is the voice of fog, they whisper
when they turn away from close
and curious sight.

 

[EroticOrogeny]

My 2009 Survivor contribution

The Sun revolving on his axis turns,
And with creative fire intensely burns;
Impell'd by forcive air, our Earth supreme,
Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam.

The Copernican System - Thomas Chatterton​

The Sun revolving on his axis turns,
Rockets blast off, our craft gravity spurns
with fire and smoke we rise up high in sky
leave earth behind – who said man could not fly.

Explore wide universe our species yearns,
and with creative fire intensely burns.
Ideas, theories set us free
we still find time to take a cup of tea.

Each cup is covered so tea won’t float
to drift here and there in our space boat
impell'd by forcive air, our Earth supreme
so sip on straw conditions here extreme.

In weightless orbit we now must adapt
we move fast yet by gravity trapped
Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam
our trip proceeds as we pursue our dream

Also had a trigger here - in this case the title.

 

[butters]

well i think this is what i'm going to work with, my mote. just for a first attempt.

when waves bear down and cliffs break loose
when mad winds twist and suck the sky,
when magma wells and sulphur spills,
our love holds calm within your eye./i find love's calm within your eye/love's calm holds steady in your eye/you hold us still within your eye.


gotta get to work. i hope to see if i can develop this tonight.

 

[Liar]

if it's written online, does it make it an e-mote?

*insert laughing track sound*

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Whoa, take it slowly, everybody. We have the whole month to write one of these, no need to jump head-first right away.

 

[CharleyH]

Well, I am certain I can do a better Glosa than the worst ever written.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

I want to propose a little exercise. Take the first line of John Donne's "The Bait":

Come live with me and be my love

I would like each of you - I'll do it as well - to consider this line and, without quoting it, expand on it. Write a short poem, no more than between 6 and 10 lines, that tells a story or tells of a feeling that could be summarized in that one line. Use any form, meter, style or language you prefer. The idea isn't to gloss that line, but to get your brain in gloss mode, explain and expand, create new images out of it.

Once you're finished, for extra credit, put that poem aside and attempt the exact same exercise two or three times more, with different approaches to that one line, different stories, different images.

 

[Remec]

A capsule of time,
meeting though friends,
a drink now and then
dinners together,
breakfasts,
time stretched into time
without a break;

the ring was almost an
afterthought
-----