The Glosa Thread

[enterprikayak]

Some of us might enjoy moulding some Trek into this form:

The glosa is a Spanish style of poetry from the 13 & 1400's...

The first part – called the "texte" or "cabeza"
consists of a stanza chosen from a poem by a well-known poet. The poet can be dead or living.

The second part – the "glosa proper"
is a "gloss" or elaboration of the texte. Each stanza of the glosa ends with a repetition
of a consecutive line of the texte.

Both rhyme and free verse glosas exist.

PK Page liked to do em. She lived in my old town actually, until she died almost exactly one year ago. She said somewhere, "I find the glosa form intriguing, from the initial search for four stealable lines, to the almost crossword puzzle-like execution of the poem itself. A new book of glosas is my ongoing project."

Here's one of hers:

soft travellers
a glosa

some words can make you weep,
when they're uttered, the light rap of their
destinations, their thud as if on peace, as if on cloth,
on air, they break all places intended and known

--Dionne Brand, "Inventory"

there is magic, of course, and among the many magics there are
words--spell binders, but there is also sleight-of-hand,
and the magic of herbs, which perhaps a shaman
knows for healing, words
do not necessarily heal, they as easily arouse or wound
even when unspoken, their mere thought can cause hope
or despair to enter your soft heart
cowardly lion behind your rib cage,
some words can put you to sleep
some words can make you weep,

some without warning can make you laugh out loud or stun
you into silence, deafen or
dumb you
their abracadabra can weave spells,
change matter, make manna of it
it is as if words were
physical, which of course they are, sound waves,
they are not emotional in themselves,
but I suspect they care
when they're uttered, the light rap of their

consonants, their vowels in place,
their very spelling important to them, I feel sure
they have their morphology as
you do, they insist
behind closed doors, felt-lined,
on tilde and circumflex, that there is worth
in orthography and there is worth
in geography as well -- for words, that is
words correctly spelled have, in truth,
destinations, their thud as if on peace, as if on cloth,


is so quiet, so light the heart could turn to stone
from such unbearable lightness
only shamans can know the magic of weights
only shamans the exact order of letters in a name or a place,
how to spell them right
but when the words have flown
as if they were birds
or a child's kite with a tail on a string,
or when they float down
on air, they break all places intended and known

.......aaaaaand GO!

[Distracted]

Intriguing. Unfortunately, I have to go to bed. Maybe later.

[Distracted]

Roddenberry's World : A Glosa

Space: the final frontier.
These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.
Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations,
To boldly go where no one has gone before.
-Star Trek prologue

It’s where we’re headed, or at least where we should be headed.
Instead we waste our time killing each other.
At this rate we’ll never make it out to
Space: the final frontier.

Millions are dying of hunger and disease,
While others are over-eating themselves to death.
If we don’t get together and share the wealth
There won’t be any resources left for invention,
No strong young bodies and intelligent minds to build the ships that will go out,
And no one left to say, “Hey, it’s just like
These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.”

We are meant to be explorers, conquerors, inventors, creators.
Instead we have become complacent and stagnant.
Where are the successors to Marco Polo and Da Vinci, to Neil Armstrong and Steven Hawking?
Humanity will wither without its adventurers. It will die without
Its continuing mission: to explore strange worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations.

We need to stop the bickering and join forces
To create a humanity capable of unified and decisive action with a single purpose,
To boldly go where no one has gone before.

[enterprikayak]

Wow. Awesome "texte" choice (SO obviously a good one, and I totally didn't think of it at all) and awesome glosa!

[Distracted]

It's more of an essay than a poem, I suppose. But it follows the form you gave. My first idea was to use a verse of "Faith of the Heart".

Umm...did you ever notice how stupid the lyrics are for "Faith of the Heart"?

Anyway, once I started thinking about title sequences for ST series it was a done deal. I had to fudge a little to make four lines, though.

[enterprikayak]

Umm...did you ever notice how stupid the lyrics are for "Faith of the Heart"?

[WarpGirl]

Dis sorry I missed it! <sigh> Faith Of The Heart is "difficult" for me, I have to mute it when I watch ENT. I can't believe Dianne Warren, a woman who has written some of the most famous songs of the 20th-21st centuries penned that one. It's really cheesy. I mean say what you want but at least "My Heart Will Go On" did capture being in love. Faith Of The Heart did not capture Star Trek.

However what you did with the prolouge is nothing short of genius!

No poetry for me though, I'm over it. I lack the sentimentality for it so be sincere.

[enterprikayak]

I always secretly liked Faith of the Heart. I recognise what makes it horrible for others and all, but secretly I like it.

[Distracted]

Poetry doesn't have to be sentimental. Look at Ogden Nash or Dr. Seuss.

Let's do a challenge. I'll pick a texte. Then somebody does a glosa. Then they pick the next texte. Start with this one. It's about writing. Not sentimental at all:


From "Sound And Sense" by Alexander Pope

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

[enterprikayak]

I accept your challenge, fair physician! It will be glorious!

From "Sound And Sense" by Alexander Pope

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

It is a practice for what might come later:
Just as faith swells from care, just as
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance.

We meet to hold ourselves three microns apart:
The grip of flesh, the grip of sweat
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.

I cannot be trusted, cannot trust myself:
Not to reject, not to scorn but
'Tis not enough, no harshness gives offense,

He sees in, to the quiet place inside my mind:
He knows I am there, he hears me
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.



I made it sentimental, so there!

Next up, someone do:
Habitation by Margaret Atwood (a poem about marriage)

the edge of the receding glacier
where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even this far
we are learning to make fire

[WarpGirl]

Okay I love Marget Atwood! But really girls you're not suckering me into poetry. I stopped after age 17. Before that I was more a poet than an actual story teller. I don't want to go back. But I will happily read all of this lovely stuff.

[Distracted]

Brrrr. A glacier. Is there a glacier in FOOOOOOORKS!?

Aw, c'mon Warpgirl. Be a sport and play the game! Pleeeese?

[WarpGirl]

You got me addicted to drabbles isn't that enough???? I've got to have time for actual fics you know... Not this time but I won't say never okay.

[enterprikayak]

Brrrr. A glacier. Is there a glacier in FOOOOOOORKS!?

Aw, c'mon Warpgirl. Be a sport and play the game! Pleeeese?

Well, it *is* Canada, right? Glaciers come standard with the sled dogs.

WarpGirl! Glosa! Now!

[WarpGirl]

Nope!