Three Sails

Three Sails

a fibonnacci

Three

sails

to a 

woman's mast;

maiden mother crone;

wind-cache, holder, mender of nets.



~April 2015

posted for

National Poetry Month with Magaly Guerrero

Art Speaks to Art

Base a poem on a piece by one of your favorite artists.

It's hard to pick a single favorite for me, but the work of  Spanish Impressionist Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida, is one of the loves of my mature years. His paintings are full of light and personality, and always seem to tell a larger story. 

This poem is a fibonacci, a syllable-counting form following the fibonacci sequence of 1/1/2/3/5/8. One of its virtues is that it is automatically short and dense-which makes it perfect for these waning days of April, and my waning poetic energy. ;_)





 Top: Three Sails, 1903, by Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida
Footer: Mending Nets, 1901, Ibid.
Public domain via wikiart.org

Appearance, Reality, And Blue Satin Shoes

Appearance, Reality, And Blue Satin Shoes

A Reverse Fibonacci

Pale

blue

satin shoes

sky to wear

cloudless on quick child feet

out of the Poor Box for a princess-

dancer suddenly real, skin deep in blue magic.

Then March, dissolving in slush-

slop black snowmelt,

 satin shed

broken

grey.

~March 2014

posted for     real toads

Kerry's Wednesday Challenge: Flashback Moment

Kerry O'Connor asks us to revisit an incident or scene from the past in the manner of a literary or cinematic flashback. This is taken from the experience of a third-grader, back in the day.

A fibonacci poem in simplest form consists of lines arranged in a word or syllable count of 1/1/2/3/5/8. A reverse Fibonacci counts down in the same sequence from the longest line(8) back to one. I have used a word count here.

Image courtesy google image search~no author known. 

Manipulated by joyannjones.

Dona Nobis Pacem ~ Blogging for Peace

The World

(a Fibonacci )

A

life

without hate

each head bowed

flowering to its own work

each hand open letting go what it can

to accept what's given, what's asked in return

when the need is strong

because the tribe

has become

the

world.

~November 2013

 This post is for     real toads

This Monday, Kerry O'Connor has asked us to join  a "...special day for bloggers around the world. November 4 marks the annual Blogblast 4 Peace. This initiative was launched by Mimi Lenox in 2006 and has grown to an extraordinary degree, spanning 6 continents and 182 countries. Her theme this year is "What do I want my world to look like?" and she invites bloggers to join together today to spread the message of peace as a single unified gesture..." 

This is a spur of the moment reverse Fibonacci poem where the lines follow the Fibonacci sequence of 1/1/2/3/5/8 and then reverse.

The photo is by Frank Serritelli, and is called The Fall of Peace

Hover mouse for image credit, or click it to go to his flick'r page.

Shared under a creative commons license.

Glass Ring

Glass Ring

Let 

me

ring like 

a bell of

glass, one clear sweet note

before I break into silence.

~September, 2013

posted for   real toads

Challenge: Words Count with Mama Zen

The often sparsely syllabular Mama Zen has asked us to write a poem which somehow reflects the number eight. This is a fibonacci poem(1/1/2/3/5/8) with 8 syllables in the last line (and also, eight lines counting title and date.)

Image: bells1 by rhubarbncustard on flick'r

Brown Light

Brown Light

Brown

sugar

light, crunching

in a kiss

filling this lantern night, is

what the deer and I wear to dance.

You

had

a plan

of sea blue

for all my nights, indigo 

dark, where drowning was dancing without any moon

but
brown
sugar light
made a sweeter
shine, made me a dancer
a fiddler, fawn's flower, a flyer, a dream.

~August 2013

A string of  Fibonaccis for   real toads

covering both

 Margaret's 'Stillness, Silence, Solitude' Challenge and the Weekend Mini-Challenge on the terribly addictive Fibonacci form

Image: Ralph Albert Blakelock (1847-1919)  "Solitude" (detail)  

Singing The Cuttlefish

by southoz, on flick'r

Singing The Cuttlefish

I.

From the green seagrass

I learned to sway light,

tattoo canticles of blue

to move standing still

so life stands still with me,

primeval, mud-

 knowing but suddenly

 unable to fear.

Who really sees

in the short sharpened time

between hatch,

heat and shred
to seabed

except the ones

who long for me to

glow?

55 psychedelic cephalopods for    the g-man

II.

Powder

me

with darkness

ink  my skin

with ripples, camouflage cuttlefish shadow

stripes to flicker me frightening, wrong; fatality focused.

Shine the lost light to find me here

exposed on the lavarock naked

waiting for what

will never

stay

away.

~August 2013

A Fibonnaci poem, posted early for this weekend's mini-challenge at
 real toads

Optional Viewing Accompaniment

You can read  more about Sepia apama, the giant cuttlefish, here at wikipedia