A first fib

The fibonacci sequence is a numerical sequence that starts 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21 where each successive number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. It is closely related to the golden ratio and to Pascal’s triangle and is found over and over in nature and in fractal forms. It is often used in art and photography as a compositional guide.

However I hadn’t realised, until this last weekend, that it is also used in a poetry form where the syllables in each successive line follow the fibonacci sequence. In poetry, this is called a ‘fib’. As I listened to a fib being read, I warmed to its simplicity (similar to Haiku) and to its open ended structure. So, of course, I had to give it a go:

Your
words
careful
written things
burdened with meaning
to cross the cold of empty space
risking storms of misunderstanding to come at last
to a sheltered port, an open waiting heart, and lips that smile, saying “so true, so true”.

A paragraph of writers

Writers are not usually known for their party habits. Though it must be said that there have been writers who’s prodigious use of mind altering substances should have qualified them. No, writers are more often known for being lonely creatures that traverse the landscape of life swathed in some private angst that mere mortals wouldn’t understand. At least that’s the common mythology.

Wanding lonely as a lost jandle, along Tahunanui beach

But this weekend, several writers descended on Tahunanui near Nelson to boldly go boldly where few writers have been before. It was the “No More Excuses, Writers’ Weekend.” My lips are sealed as to what went on (what happens in Tahunanui, stays in Tahunanui) but suffice to say that a fairly substantial paragraph of writers had a fantastic time together. We laughed, and sometimes cried, made fun of ourselves and occasionally embarrassed one another. There was heaps of writing and plenty of sharing as we listened to the new born offspring of wild imaginations.

I can’t wait for the sequel.