Because Everyone Loves Math

In the beginning it was 5-7-5, then U2, then Sudoku … now a whole different numerical sequence is sweeping the globe: the Fibonacci sequence, that is. After a call for poems based on everyone’s favorite mathematical progression, Gregory Pincus’ GottaBook Blog soon became “Fib” central, attracting hundreds of Fib writers from all walks of life. The phenomenon even caught the all-seeing eye of the New York Times. The combination of this quirky form and the wildfire buzz of online attention has resulted in upwards of a thousand Fibs written this month … and counting. I hate to say that this seems to be much more successful and addicting than my brief run with writing verse based on the Side-Angle-Side postulate.

7 Responses

  1. Best Poetry Post
    Best Poetry Post Ever

    is the kind
    of thing that really
    excites me about poetry.

    is fitting,
    that one with such a
    Fibonaccious face posted it.

  2. fibonacci poetry!quite
    fibonacci poetry!

    quite cool.

    seems the fib sequence is everywhere for me these days. not only does it play a role in the da vinci code, which i am (still) currently reading, but i also stumbled across it recently while reading an essay about b

  3. Wow, those are pretty good.
    Wow, those are pretty good. Well, they are good, and they are pretty. It might take me a while to work up something like that.

  4. dearbill,you haveforgottenthe
    you have
    the third line with the
    two syllables. but you’re still cool.

  5. dear bill –bald lier!ill
    bill —
    bald lier!
    ill drill babe!
    illiberal bellbird lad!
    billiard ball libeller, all dribbled!

    — well, i’m sorry… but that’s what the letters formed. maybe i should’ve tried it with “hey bill”, instead of “dear bill” in order to write you a nicer fibonacci letter…

    by hell, i
    be hillbilly,
    yell “hi!” by ill hill ebb,
    yell “hey, ebb, bib ill hillbilly hill!”

    (sung to a country tune…)

  6. anemone!you amaze meif
    you amaze me
    if structure is a prison, make your own escape by shrinking the prison cell…and voila! The woman is beyond zen and in a freezone of pure anemonic energy

    (gasp)(p.s. the above was not and never intended to be mathematically correct)

  7. cellshrunk,knell: crush!clerk
    knell: crush!
    clerk nun lurks…shh!
    hell hulks scrunch kern knurls

    (translation: the cell shrunk and is now crushing the bell of death. the metamorphosis from fey vegetating to freedom has been made.
    but the employed warden, a nun, is lurking, to imprison me again… shh! i must be quiet lest she hears me!
    huge felons, finally freed, chew apart the knots that have fastened and enchained the roots of the matters, the essence of why they have gotten to the place in space and time they now are.

    and then? i have no idea how the story continues, and how and if it ends.
    and i wonder — have i really escaped the prison, or am i caught in just another endless loop of sequence and structural constraint, while i listen to the thugs’ crunching and gnarling outside of my cell?

    but if i am, i am not alone — poetry, zen and judih’s kind words are with me. thanks!)

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