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Experimenting with Fib Poetry

It's a strange form. I don't think it flows very well, but I'm sure if I practice with it I can use the staccato nature form advantageously.

Anyway, here's one. Not sure if it 'works' - the first three stanzas are supposed to be very trite which is hopefully explained / concluded in the last stanza.

Still,
you
think it
would be more
meaningful to say
something from the heart; from inside.

Still,
you
think it
would be more
pertinent to say
words straight from the soul; your own voice.

Still,
you
think it
would be more
kind of you to say
things that have some personal truth?

Still.
You
think you'd
realise;
vapid verbiage
is very tautological.

16:18 - Sun-1-Feb-2009 - comments {10} - post comment

Poetry Is Math

This guy started the craze of Fib Poetry back in 2006, apparently;

http://gottabook.blogspot.com/2006/0...4/fib.html

I completely missed it.

But today, I found it.

"...a six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 – the classic Fibonacci sequence."

So, here's to Fibetry. Have a go.

Sleep
Came
In fits
And broken
Starts. my eyes burn, tired;
But here I am, writing poems.

11:59 - Sun-1-Feb-2009 - comments {23} - post comment

Elevator

The gears stuck between two floors.
Sealed tight, the doors
secured us in.
Just me and him
confined within. He grabbed me tight
in case I might
fall down with fear;
I pulled him near
and by the time they got us out
we had no doubt
that heaven lies
twixt six and five...

00:29 - Wed-26-Nov-2008 - comments {4} - post comment

Vomiting Blood

I called your way again today.
I should have known you'd not be home;
An empty shell where once you dwelled.

I left a note pinned to your door
Above the one I'd pinned before.

I didn't see the silouhette
Or that the step was red and wet
Until I turned and slipped and fell
In the gloomy, dark stairwell.

It was you, on the floor,
In the place you'd been before
Vomiting blood when I called your name.
I yelled for help, but no one came.



(I swear it took me less than two minutes to write that, from a prompt 'vomiting blood' from a list of six available prompts. How is it that I can spend hours and hours toiling over a poem sometimes, and other times, stuff like this gets out in minutes? Gah.)

00:50 - Tue-1-Jul-2008 - comments {22} - post comment

Pomes Inspired by Sounds

The bars, a beat, a melody
that rocks my soul.
Somehow I know
that I must see
the symphony behind your eyes.
I'm open wide;
you tear me up,
you break me down.
I fall, I tumble, spinning fast.
How can this last?
In final throes,
an end composed.



Ad Libitum you leave me with the sound of my demise;
Deciso, devoto, dolcissimo you lift me from silence.
Calando, my spirit skips, with all that this implies;
Ad Libitum you leave me with the sound of my demise.
Bellicoso notes assault; con bravura I long for your reprise,
Enfatico between the sounds I suffer from your absence.
At liberty you leave me with the sound of my demise;
Decisively, religiously, sweetly you lift me from silence.

01:24 - Sun-29-Jun-2008 - comments {12} - post comment