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Fibbonaccaye

by radavies1uk 

Posted: 27 March 2006
Word Count: 810
Summary: I found myself on a long train journey and started on this. I have a few ideas to do something similar with repetitive interwoven sequences to try and create a golden circle effect. But I don't know if it's worth the bother.


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Why
Why
Oh Why
Just Canít I

Open up my eye

And see how come I always rhyme

I keep doing this, but to
this way I must say bye

So now I must look somewhere deep in my brain,
and increase the gap by fibbonaccaye

No matter what, I know thereís a way,
to get to a poem that still has its own sway,
so Iíll keep writing more whether Iím sober or high

I find it gets harder, at this point here,
the words aint so easy up past fifty.
I know itís not impossible though,
itís just words then words more,
plucked from the air, intellect or soul.
How many words have we each before we die?

How long would a phrase last before it ran out?
Can we keep going forever, day and night?
I donít know. Iíd guess neither do you.
It seems the best are the ones that have done it the most.
Is this the machine that never grows old?
The one thing that will outlast even our world?
King says if youíre bad, youíll never be good,
and good then not great no matter how much youíre time goes by.

Now I have to reach one-fourty-four.
Will it make a difference, make me any more?
Itís much like society, we each have a goal,
and then as well work together and aim as a whole.
Whatís really the point, where is it going?
What am I trynna say, whatís keeping this growin?
I donít know why I carry on still.
Does it work with my life, give me what I need to do?
The many things I got, Iím not missing much.
I get up at 8 and go to work till my lunch.
then for one hour Iím free again,
sixty whole minutes to wander and stare.
To take in the world, these times, they aint rare.
To say it was all bad would be somewhat of a lie.

Itís been like two weeks now since I wrote whatís above
Iíve carried on with my life like we all do today
I still have no idea why Iím doing this now
But by going on and on Iím increasing my load
Iím trynna find out how, before Iím way too old
Then thereís another question, how old is that?
How long are we vital and imaginitve too
How many years have I held myself to
Whatís the shelf life
Whereís it go
How do I know
If I should keep on goin.
So even with things up to two-thirty-three
Is it really of use, or am I just killing time
Wishing away all of whatís mine?
It seems I havenít a foggiest clue
I donít have the knowledge and
Iím sure neither do you.
But then there I go off again, rhyming like that
Not very balanced and actually pretty flat.
Ha! there it goes again, moving me on
Must it be like a song?
Can I even hear it?
Will it guide me right or wrong
Can it really be so hard not to rhyme

Now it gets to this point
I might as well just use prose
If Iím just trailing off on a non-random tangent
Not meaning anything. Cos thatís the way it goes
So wondering why I bother it so
Why canít I just totally let it go
But then thereís another
And Iím sure theyíll be more
Just sticking on one was never my thing
I always bounce around like a directionless fool
Doing whatever I feel like doing
I know one day itíll bite me in the ass
Iíll be doing something I shouldnít
Or in a way it shouldnít be done
Iíll accidentally destroy the world
Or pick my nose at a meeting
Or something.
But then you know how this thing usually ends
We get a career and wear out our dreams
And who knows why we start with them anyway
Where do they get us?
What do they bring?
Innocence and happiness a gift I agree
But shouldnít we be using them in the best possible way
Not squander and ruin for each little Ďneedí
It takes a lot but it doesnít take much
At least I imagine of it to be as such
So up it comes and ages pass
And each of us gradually empties our glass
Pouring it bit by bit over our path
Completion is I think a wonderous thing
Not knowing what else even then itíll bring
Is there a light or whatever you know
I just donít give a damn, I donít wanna know
I want it unknown, to haunt us for all
Maybe itís just what we need
Maybe a great mystery, a truth or a fact
Who really knows or cares, wait for surprise
Let it wash over you when you finally get there.







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Comments by other Members



Brian Aird at 15:07 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
Writing about writing is a bit like a painiting of someone painting or a flim about a film maker - it lets us see under the skin of the artist. And the way self-anaylsis and introspection is mixed in makes it entirely personal. Here and there it felt a bit Zen too; "Let it wash over you when you finally get there."

I could imagine it as a spoken piece in a theatre: as a momologue. Not sure as a poem; Im probably too used to poems with a more specific themes; but perhaps it's also because I didn't know what a fibbonaccaye was. Google says: We did not find results for "fibbonaccaye". Did you mean: fibonacci?

But then you can't "Google" to find the answers to life's puzzles either!

Brian





radavies1uk at 17:56 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
Heya Brian :)

Yeah Fibonacci it's the number sequence that is supposedly in every living thing. The spriral thingy. I just thought the .aye sounded a bit better :) nacci is so hard ;)

On the introspection thing, I do think that that analysis is important, but I don't know if it's just too egotistical to actually write about it, maybe introspection should be left in, and outrospection should be let out. I don't know :) But hey, it's fun that way ;)

Cheers ;)
Bob



paul53 [for I am he] at 08:46 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Bob,
I talked with someone else recently using the "old water pump" analogy, which is as good a way as any to get the creative flow going. Trouble is you pump and pump for ages, and nothing shows until there's enough pressure to get it moving, and when it DOES start flowing out comes all the brackish, rust-flecked stuff that sat in the pipe since the last time the pump was used. Only after that does clear water flow. Worse still, if you stop pumping for a few minutes, you have to work hard to get the flow going again.
This piece appears to have the whole process here, and while it is of interest to the writer to study his creative process, most readers want to see just the clear water.
Going through this and crossing out whatever is unnecessary will be the beginning of a poem. Finding where the wandering thoughts end and a theme starts is a jumping off point. Exploring the "clear water" parts remaining may reveal unexplored avenues of thought. There are moments of insight in this that need bringing
out.
Tolstoy wrote War and Peace, then threw away chapter one. We all need a wastepaper bin, or a drawer full of poems with lots of crossings out and a few bits rung round for inclusion in later works.
Much worse than this: many on WW site are pressed for time, and some of them will see the large word count and give it a miss. Sad, but true.
Pieces like this are great fun, but best to go through and give them a good prune before uploading them.
Paul




radavies1uk at 09:23 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Hey Paul

That's a great analogy. I think if I got rid of everything before
Just sticking on one was never my thing.

I'd have a much better poem, but then I'd lose the original point I started on and basically have a completely different poem.
I think it would be beneficial when I get round to writing the Golden Circle version I should keep the numbers used to a bare minimum and use pattern repetition (there's probably a proper poetry term for this) to prevent long trawling blocks and to keep 'on message'.
This one was kind of hard to revise significantly as removal of one syllable meant I had to squeeze one in somewhere else in the block to fit the original intent. Although I was trying to distract myself from content by focussing on the structure, to see what content came if I could just keep it flowing.
I wasn't going to upload this one orignally as I know it's not a polished piece, but I figured some feedback on structure could be helpful.

Cheers Muchly :)
Bob


paul53 [for I am he] at 13:43 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Bob,
I get the impression you're quite a smart cookie, an impression redoubled when I took a sneak look at your professional-looking website.

As a lapsed Mensa member myself, I see you are putting a great deal more into your work than a lot of folk will notice, like the Fibonacci sequence in your syllables. Trouble is, on a site such as this, most readers are only going to see and comment on the contents.
Paul

radavies1uk at 13:53 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Hi Paul

I get ya :) Will make a few exercises in content and see where I get to :) I need to get some time to do the Seminar exercises but it feels like I've always got a million things to do and no time to do it in ;) Ahh such is life :)

Cheers
Bob

radavies1uk at 15:16 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Hehe :) Aye, I keep getting these looks in work like I should just shut up when I start going on about these things :)

<Added>

I knew someone would have done all that before but better :)

Brian Aird at 15:57 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Wasn't trying to shut you up, honest! I like people who aren't afraid to experiment. I've tried poems without punctuation or lines or verses (except to fit it all on the page)and ones made up of bits of graffiti - and we've had poems in funny shapes before. Paul may hold the record for the longest piece of introspective poetry - you can find it in his archive - its worth a look.

I'm writing a poem at the moment, or rather I'm not. I'm writing what I call a seed - which is along discursive thing full of ideas that don't connect or go anywhere. I'm trying to sift through the 'ideas' to find something that I can make into a poem. Sometimes I wish I had just posted the ramble I had in the first place, but most times something pops up I like...if I don't post in a few days you'll know it didn't work....


Brian








paul53 [for I am he] at 17:42 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Bob,
it feels like I've always got a million things to do and no time to do it in
That'll last the rest of your life. The reason I'm still struggling to get paid for my poems is that I kept flitting from topic to topic [no, not the chocolate bars] rather than knuckled down, but **** it, there's so much interesting stuff out there.

Brian,
Paul may hold the record for the longest piece of introspective poetry - you can find it in his archive - its worth a look.
Do you mean Final Draft? If it's a record, I want a tin cup.

Paul

Brian Aird at 18:05 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
Paul:
Getting paid? Your idea about the tin cup - I came across a poet on South Bank offering poems in little coloured envelopes for whatever you wanted to give. What impressed me was if you wanted to hear one he'd recite it from memory. I chose the one called, 'I have no time for poetry' and offered him a miserable pound. (evil face emoticon)

I've had interest from a local writers group in just one of my poems for an anthology and one of my plays is being put on at the Progress theatre in Reading. But money? I'm with the tin cup or the coloured envelopes. My son's made more cash than me busking with his tuba.


Brian



paul53 [for I am he] at 06:30 on 30 March 2006  Report this post
Julian Lloyd-Weber tried busking for a couple of hours and earned £200 - but they might have been bribing him to stop.


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