Old 09-13-2013, 07:48 PM   #51
UnderYourSpell
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Quote:
Originally Posted by champagne1982 View Post
mote
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

exerpt from
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by e. e. cummings


glossa
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the sum of all that has come before
no matter how thoroughly we have factored
our equation, one plus one will not reveal

your exquisite control over how we see
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
is charted like the contours on a map
i can read in braille with my caress

and hear when you come close to crumbling
the detail of this atlas whose every page
compels me with the color of its countries,
or the blue of its oceanic depth

only witnessed by the drowning soul
as he gasps in pain of tear-filled lungs; the absolute
wonder that is your ability to resuscitate
rendering death and forever with each breathing
Oh wow ....... you write exquisite Glosas
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Old 09-13-2013, 08:55 PM   #52
champagne1982
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Quote:
Originally Posted by UnderYourSpell View Post
Oh wow ....... you write exquisite Glosas
Thank you teach. I think when a person decides to write one, the entire original poem needs to be absorbed, not just the mote. For instance the poem, somewhere I have never travelled;gladly beyond, is a love poem and I felt the emotion off it quite strongly. So, I took this strophe; the least lovely, imo, and wrote the fear a person feels in surrendering the well-being of their heart to another. I'm pleased as hell that you like it.
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Old 09-14-2013, 08:34 AM   #53
Lauren Hynde
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Quote:
Originally Posted by UnderYourSpell View Post
Poetic composition very popular in romantic countries between the 14th and 17th centuries, it is comprised of two parts: an introductory short stanza authored by another poet (called the mote, or motto); and the glosa itself, a stanza or series of stanzas that expand on the theme presented by the mote. The first line of the mote must be incorporated into the first stanza of the glosa, the second line of the mote must be incorporated into the second stanza of the glosa, and so on.
You're doing a wonderful job with this thread, but I just wanted to clarify a couple of things.

First, the mote does not need to be a short stanza, and it is often made of a single line:
MOTE:
Tudo pode üa afeição.

GLOSA:
Tem tal jurdição Amor
n' alma donde se aposenta
e de que se faz senhor,
que a liberta e isenta
de todo o humano temor;
e com mui justa razão,
como senhor soberano,
que Amor não consente dano.
E pois me sofre tenção,
gritarei por desengano:
tudo pode üa afeição.
-- Luís de Camões (1524-1580)
The mote can be authored by a third party - it was a popular pastime in royal courts for poets to improvise glosas on motes offered by the guests and patrons, for example - but it may also be written by the poet.

Finally, there is no steadfast rule about every line of the mote absolutely having to be incorporated in each stanza of the glosa, even if that is very common. This is a popular glosa by the same Portuguese poet as in the previous example, and you'll notice that only the 3rd line of the mote is incorporated in both stanzas, like a refrain:
MOTE:
Descalça vai pera a fonte
Lianor, pela verdura;
vai fermosa e não segura.

GLOSA:
Leva na cabeça o pote,
o testo nas mãos de prata,
cinta de fina escarlata,
sainho de chamalote;
traz a vasquinha de cote,
mais branca que a neve pura;
vai fermosa e não segura.

Descobre a touca a garganta,
cabelos d' ouro o trançado,
fita de cor d' encarnado...
Tão linda que o mundo espanta!
Chove nela graça tanta
que dá graça à fermosura;
vai fermosa, e não segura.
Other times, the lines in the mote may be significantly altered. One of the finest contemporary glosas that I have read is this one, by denis hale, which pushes the envelop on a lot of these rules without breaking any:
MOTE:
There are a dizzying number of options,
that multiply every day...
--from the AOL Home Page, an advert, for phone gadgets

GLOSA:
Have you ever stopped short
at a crossroads? A real Johnson
Robert with chops to boot, enough
to melt frost? But knowing the point
is tough, and moot as regards cost:
there are a dizzying number of options,
burning holes, blooming fruit.

Apples in winter, thigh-high fences
ripe with splinters, and a penumbra
of penitents,
down on their knees, to pray
for right of way, not to be left
in a posse of lost souls
that multiply every day.

Consider the fork! With arrows
flipping haywire, like a compass
cum bum ticker, would you
only then commit
quicker? Or wait,
impatient, for devils, to dicker
over options? Gone dizzy.

Late February, say, frost peaks,
it swirls this way, then doubles
back. A fucking bundt cake, eh?
Or maybe souflay? Lick a thumb,
taste the wind, then run like
mad the other way. Don't look
back for options. They don't

multiply every day.

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Old 09-14-2013, 09:33 AM   #54
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Thank you for dropping by This is rather awkward because what I put at the top of the thread is what you taught me for Survivor and I have always gone by it not having being taught any of the finer nuances to the form. So does this mean that you can take any line and put it where you want and even change it if it suits you?
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Blessed are the cracked for it is they that let in the light
They say a smile is a gift which is free to the giver and precious to the recipient.
But giving the finger is free, too, and I find it more personal and sincere.
If at first you don't succeed....skydiving is not for you ....
If you don't pay your exorcist .... do you get repossessed?
I shall always decide not to decide, unless of course I decide to change my mind.
....But I, being poor, have only my dreams, I have spread my dreams under your feet,Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.......
Nil Caborundum illigitimi
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Old 09-14-2013, 12:24 PM   #55
Lauren Hynde
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Quote:
Originally Posted by UnderYourSpell View Post
Thank you for dropping by This is rather awkward because what I put at the top of the thread is what you taught me for Survivor and I have always gone by it not having being taught any of the finer nuances to the form. So does this mean that you can take any line and put it where you want and even change it if it suits you?
LOL! Yes, that is what it means. If you think it will make a better poem, you're always allowed to bend the rules.

For Survivor, I think we established some stricter ground rules because it was a competition and we had to come up with a length threshold, since glosas are only very loosely defined as a form.
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Old 07-04-2018, 04:28 PM   #56
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Anti-Cataclysmic

Oh, like memories in cold decay
Transmissions echoing away
Far from the world of you and I
Where oceans bleed into the sky

The Catalyst by Linkin Park



Oh, like memories in cold decay,
tears and indigo smearing the page,
his apology for the first breath
and all the ones following.

Stella Artois, Corona and zolpidem
lull and hummm—sending his
transmissions echoing away,
all a calm before a catastrophic end.

A makeshift noose makes his stars
grow as it goes smaller, tighter,
squeezing out his sanity
far from the world of you and I.

The after thought is a confused, why?
I know—nearly all missed that green flash
where oceans bleed into the sky,
a phenomena just as rare as he was.


* Miss you Chester Bennington
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Old 07-13-2018, 09:02 PM   #57
champagne1982
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Super 8 Pool (a glosa)

mote:
The plump good-natured children play in the blue pool:
roll and plop, plop and roll;

slide and tumble, oiled, in the slippery sun
silent as otters, turning over and in,
from: "MOTEL POOL" by P.K. Page

glos:
The plump good-natured children play in the blue pool:
dive and splash, splash and swim

kicking and swimming, dripping, on the chilly edge
dive and splash, splash and swim

roll and plop, plop and roll;
droplets dribble as they rush to the room

the toilet flush a siren's call, as they squeeze
chubby thighs together in the pee dance

slide and tumble, oiled, in the slippery sun
whistles and squeals, they delight in diving

sleek and shining in their layers of sunblock
playing with inflated balls and sunken treasures

silent as otters, turning over and in,
whistles and squeals, paddling round and round

swimming in the pool before they tumble in
and cuddle with mom and a story of Algonquin summer
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