Give a glosa a try!

My last blog post mentioned a form of poetry known the glosa. Below is my first attempt at one. Trying to write a poem around four lines of someone else's work is pretty difficult, but fun at the same time. I chose four lines from a poem by Warren Cariou: Satan Rouses his Legions on the Shores of Syncrude Tailings Pond #4. If you are interested in poetry, I suggest giving a glosa a try!

Inhale, my friends: breathe deep

The bitumen air. I give you

A waveless lake,

Stacks blowing brimstone,

1) Malefecient, the Queen, furrowed and bleak
2)  Her gaze smolders, eyes fixed
3) Heart pounding inside your tight chest
4) She calls towards the heavens
5) A deafening shriek
6) Quiet now, don’t make a peep
7) Has she caught your scent?
8) She skulks along, no prey for her tonight
9) Exhale, let the moment steep
10)  Inhale, my friends: breath deep

11)  Safe from her, for now

12)  Vines winding, scratching, pulling

13)  They tear at you, hungry as her for your flesh

14)  An owl shrieks in the distance

15)  The moon is full

16)  Its light pours over the land, is it on her side too?

17)  Move from this spot, run, go

18)  This land is hostile, smells thick as tar

19)  Her essence has corrupted it, heart of blackness grew

20)  The bitumen air. I give you

21)  Quiet as a mouse you creep

22)  Tip toe, tip toe

23)  SNAP!

24)  A branch breaks under your step

25)  Heart racing, eyes searching, ears listening

26)  How much more can this frail body take

27)  Moments pass, the mad queen is unseen

28)  Sigh, relief, you are almost safe

29)  Out of the woods, you take a break

30)  A waveless lake,

31)  Silence, everything is still

32)  You feel uneasy

33)  Someone is watching you

34)  A sharpness fills your chest

35)  Your head is light, you turn to see

36)  Malefecient, twisted and cruel, the origin of her hate unknown

37)  She pulls her blade slowly from your chest

38)  You fall to your knees

39)  Never again will you bemoan

40)  Stacks blowing brimstone