Usually I don't force my poems into any set structure, it just kind of happens. It is fun, however, to pick a rigid structure and try to tell a story or convey an emotion within it. I heard about the Fibonacci sequence and poems based on it and just had to try one. The Fibonacci sequence is like this (0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55,...) The way it works is that you take the previous two numbers in the sequence and add them together to get your new number. So 1+1=2, 2+1=3, 3+2=5, etc. I heard about poems that used the sequence to create the number of syllables in each line. I thought that was a great idea and wrote a poem taking it as far as I could. The challenge was immensely entertaining. I later found out that the 'official" Fibonacci poems were shorter, like haiku, with the maximum syllable length being, I think, 5 syllables. Frankly I think my way is more fun, just how many syllables can you take it to before it becomes too unwieldy. It this poem I maxed out at 55.
About the poem itself. I love the winters here in Colorado. This is part of my drive home.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Heading Home
.
Cold
Snow
Wet Road
Slippery
Icy and Bitter
Push on through, I'm no quitter
The wind herds the snow in vibrant patterns through the night
Skittering, scampering, rippling back and around, side to side in furious flight
Soft, warm glow shrouded and hidden bravely struggles against the blur,
...melting a hearthy sphere through muted cotton high above the
...darkened street
Our neighborhood sits like a small village in some old fashioned movie,
...shot in black and white by an idealistic director in classic Hollywood style,
...with saintly hero and sinister villain clashing mightily
The sad story builds towards the climactic scene where good conquers
...evil gently, leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling that covers me from head to feet
Silence lies deep over the resting houses as if in quiet anticipation
Each one relaxed but tensed with barely subdued action
Still as death yet surely alive
Slowly I arrive
Finally
Welcome
I'm
Home
.
Cold
Snow
Wet Road
Slippery
Icy and Bitter
Push on through, I'm no quitter
The wind herds the snow in vibrant patterns through the night
Skittering, scampering, rippling back and around, side to side in furious flight
Soft, warm glow shrouded and hidden bravely struggles against the blur,
...melting a hearthy sphere through muted cotton high above the
...darkened street
Our neighborhood sits like a small village in some old fashioned movie,
...shot in black and white by an idealistic director in classic Hollywood style,
...with saintly hero and sinister villain clashing mightily
The sad story builds towards the climactic scene where good conquers
...evil gently, leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling that covers me from head to feet
Silence lies deep over the resting houses as if in quiet anticipation
Each one relaxed but tensed with barely subdued action
Still as death yet surely alive
Slowly I arrive
Finally
Welcome
I'm
Home
.
written Jan-May 2007 by Jeff Couch
Where Have I Been?
I know there isn't really anyone out there that is following this blog, however I just wanted to say, sorry for being away for so long. I will be posting three poems to catch up. Thanks for your patience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)