This is a glosa which is a form of poetry from the late 14th century and was popular in the Spanish court. The introduction, the cabeza, is a quatrain quoting a well-known poem or poet. The second part is the glosa proper, expanding on the theme of the cabeza, consisting of four ten-line stanzas, with the lines of the cabeza used to conclude each stanza. Lines six and nine must rhyme with the borrowed tenth. This challenge is the work of Sam Peralta over at dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ . Go check it out!
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
(The Hollow Men, T S Eliot)
These are the men of no-lands.
Rootless, sweeping on past you.
A wind brushing your cheek.
This disturbance of air
unsettles your senses,
but they’re not riders to fear.
Locked into an ancient journey,
they stare over your horizon.
Their vision is clear.
The eyes are not here.
They see things that are beyond you.
Your haven carved out of the land
does not distort their compass.
Purpose is driving them on.
In this seemingly safe place,
a choice to which you adhere,
puts eternal travels
in a different dimension.
And though you are sincere,
there are no eyes here.
Their dust trail swallowed by dusk,
nomads drift into the night,
soon to bed down under heavens,
leaving behind a reliable place.
Tucking itself up,
roof, walls and closed door mars
the purity of life unfettered.
Settling into a permanent sleep,
this small town of lights with the night spars,
in this valley of dying stars.
It’s not a place of adventure,
there’s no mystery of the unknown.
Settlers don’t want the drift
and the pull of a force outside their control.
Blindness and deafness cloaks a spirit,
chaining slaves of safety to a galley
that can’t even sail on dreams.
All that excites them is the building,
the street and the alley
in this hollow valley.