Maths was never my strong point, so I do not know anything much about the Fibonacci series, except that nature has magically created this world, using it as a delectable condiment. Regardless, I am quite interested in trying out the Fibonacci poetry form, affectionately called the Fib. A Fib takes its form from the Fibonacci. To quote Shaping Words, from where I occasionally sift out my poetry inspirations: “The six line form is: 1 – 1 – 2 – 3 – 5 – 8. The seven line form is 1 – 1 – 2 – 3 – 5 – 8 – 13. It is an opended form, but the six line and seven line forms are the most frequent.”
November 23 was the Fibonacci day. I missed it, but anyhow, I am going to attempt a Fib today — with the seven line form. Before I begin, though, let me tell you that the numbers can be syllables, or words in your poem. I am choosing to include them as words today.
So Rests a Lover
Wherefore its anticipation?
Time has ridden on slumber.
And on lead-legged bull of crafty defiance, too.
Each sinew is waking, memorising bygones, before an embrace makes amends. Onward, lover!