Monday, April 17, 2006

Fibs

A couple of people have sent me links talking about this new poetic form called fibs. Based on the Fibonacci sequence, fibs are 6 line, 20 syllable poems with the syllable counts going 1/1/2/3/5/8.

Now as most of you know, I've always been a sucker for challenges, plus this one actually combines math and poetry, so I couldn't resist.

Here are my first few tries (warning: more might follow):

1.

The
fugue
begins,
spirals, dies.
On the other hand
the world expands, and cannot stop.

2.

Smell
of
omelettes
from vanished
kitchens; sunlight spills
over me, yellow as an egg.

3.

The
rose
opens.
Each petal
expanding into
as many more. Beauty arrives.

4.

Are
these
poems?
Yes. There are
things left unsaid in
them, there is fear of falling short.

5.

We
start
with a
syllable,
achieve line; perhaps,
if we are lucky, a poem.

One
word,
then two,
we follow
the sequence, hoping
that somehow it will all add up.

Me,
you:
adding
together,
line by shy line, all
our sad, seperate love poems.

Categories:

12 comments:

Heh Heh said...

there is a certain aesthetic qualitity to their meter, isnt it?
the previous two lines add up to the current line.. a very controlled uncontrolledness.
But then I suppose we are genetically predisposed to finding the golden ratio pleasing.

drifting leaf said...

oh i love it...
gonna try as well...
love the sunny omelette...
love the shy line...

awesome!

The Man Who Wasnt There said...

' One
word,
then two,
we follow
the sequence, hoping
that somehow it will all add up. '

I liked that...:)

Btw on a totally unrelated note to this post..how Leftist inclined are you? :| am surprised that in the plethora of topics you have covered Marxism has never got a mention....

Gregory K. said...

Nice Fibbing!

confused said...

New York times had a story about fibs today. Interesting.

I thought the first two were good, but did not like the rest so much.

Waiting for the next installment.

Anonymous said...

I
love
the one
about us...
Secret poetry,
Savouring multiplicity.


-
In which Whitman learns to Fib:)

Anonymous said...

WOW!!....gosh i love you!!

Falstaff said...

heh: Yes. I don't know about genetic predispositions, but I think it's the combination of pattern recognition and that sense of growth.

leaf: thanks

girish: thanks

Marx
was
a great
tree that we
sat under, waiting
for the state to wither away.

I know, I know - I do intend to put down my defense of socialism at some point, but it's not something that can be done quickly - I'm going to wait till I have a lot more free time before I put that one down.

gregory: Thanks. Praise from thee is praise indeed.

confused: Yes, I know, I saw. Thanks. Not sure about more.

anon1:

Yes.
Love
is its
own poem.
Breathless as couplets,
Its metre a secret heartbeat.

anon2: errr..thanks.

confused said...

Marx?

mmm, socialist roots go so far?

Now, with your intellect and reasoning you could probably make even Marx sound reasonable, but it would take some doing.

That is one which I am looking forward to.

sa re ga ma said...

I
love
the one
about the
omlette and kitchen!
cant complete this fib though :( - S.

ozymandiaz said...

a
fib
is a
much better
poetic form than
the much over used haiku

I had not heard of this and perhaps I can grow to like it if, unlike haiku, it isn't slung around like monkey poo at the zoo. I know many people who consider themselves poets like haiku for its minimalist style but really suck at it. And believe you me I know sucky poetry because I write it all of the time.

Tanuj said...

oil,
jeera,
chopped onion,
but asafoetida eliminate.
unless chana dal causes you
to internally fulminate, mildly regurgitate, and destructively fumigate.

uhm.. well, at least it rhymes