Today’s inspiration comes from Glenda Funk. Glenda is an NBCT with an MA in English literature. She taught English and speech 38 years and worked as an adjunct instructor for Idaho State University and the College of Southern Idaho before retiring in August 2019. As part of the NEA Better Lesson Master Teacher Project, Glenda developed a full-year curriculum for teaching seniors, which is free on the Better Lesson website. Glenda blogs at https://evolvingenglishteacher.blogspot.com/?m=1
Inspiration
Fib (Fibonacci poem): A Fib poem marries math and poetry. Gregory K. Pincus created the Fib to commemorate National Poetry Month in 2006. From that first post, a Fib movement began. Fibs are based on the Fibonacci sequence, according to this post from the Poetry Foundation. Writing a Fib requires a little counting. Each line is comprised of the total number of syllables in the preceding two lines.
- Thus, line one begins with one syllable, and
- line two also contains one syllable.
- Line three has two syllables (lines one and two syllabication combined).
- Line four has three syllables.
A Fib can be as long or short as the poet desires. The common six line Fib will follow this syllabication for each line: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8. Each number represents the number of syllables for each line.
I learned about the Fib from reading the wonderful poetry book Thanku: Poems of Gratitude (Millbrook Press, 2019), edited by Miranda Paul and illustrated by Marlena Myles. The collection includes poems from many poets, including the Fib “Constellation” by Ed DeCaria:
A preview of Thanku is available on Google books here, and it includes “Constellation.”
Process
- Choose an inspiration for a Fib. Since the form brings math and poetry together, consider writing a Fib focusing on art and math, such as geometry, or art and science. Find inspiration in a teaching moment.
- Cruise the internet for more Fib examples. I found lots of articles on the form while preparing this post.
- Play with form and syntax while constructing an image or figurative language, such as a metaphor.
- Be intentional about diction.
- Don’t forget to count those syllables! I’ll be counting on my fingers. Don’t judge me!
- Consider writing a series of Fibs on a common theme if your feeling inspired and have the time!
Mentor poem by Glenda
I took poetic license with my poem and identified the caterpillar as a worm, which technically it is not!
“Regeneration” Squirm worm, burst your larval home. Plump caterpillar, release baby butterfly wings. ©Glenda Funk
Post your writing any time today. If the prompt does not work for you today, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Below are some suggestions for commenting with care. Oh, and a note about edits: The comment feature of this blog (and many blogs) does not permit edits. Since we are writing in short bursts, we all are understanding (and even welcome) the typos that remind us we are human.
OK. Here it goes. First time writing a Fib poem. The ending doesn’t quite work, but maybe someone has a suggestion. TY!
Cold.
Snow.
All over.
On the ground.
On my cold face.
On the leaves of the evergreen trees.
I walk like a penguin digging my heels first; still I fall.
I scrape my bare hands – forgot to wear my mitts; seems I’ll never learn to accept when it’s winter.
Elisa, I think it’s okay to deviate from the form. Several of us here are self-confessed mathphobes! I like the repetition of “on” in your poem. It emphasizes the totality of snow coverage you’re experiencing. The penguin metaphor is fun. Winter garb can make us waddle like a penguin,
I don’t know how you all keep up with the writing AND the commenting. Kudos to you all.
My inspiration comes from a Wonderopolis article: Wonder of the Day #1868
Who Was Marie Curie?
How
strange
that she
was barred from
learning beside boys
Maria Sklodowska was bright.
Bright
star
shining
in secretschool for girls, learning
mathematics and sciences
to Sorbonne University.
One
day
she sees
new atoms–
poloniumand
radium. Stunning breakthroughs.
This
great
knowledge
discovered
cannot be ignored!
A Nobel Prize for Maria.
Who
does
not hide
this learning.
Now Madame Curie–
renown atomic physicist.
(c) Linda Mitchell
Linda, Marie Curie was one of my childhood heroes. I read a biography about her when I was ten. I love your tribute to her. The phrase “barred from learning” reminds me we still have far to go in terms of making all the world accessible to women. I also love the idea of a fib as a way to honor our heroes.
Linda – I really like this piece, especially in the relaxed movement of lines while it hails a remarkable woman and her contributions. This is a terrific way to blend history, science, women’s studies, poetry…all in the beauty of a “fib poem.” A wonderful interdisciplinary classroom tool and artistic moment here. When I look at the way these lines lay out on the page, I’m quite taken by the sets of steps it creates– quite apt for such a remarkable woman to have a lofty set of steps. Nicely done! Susie
Fibonacci Poem
Sleep
Socks,
Willow.
Two cat home
Three people fawn
Over two orange males
Who shed hair everywhere
And really belong outside.
Debra, I’m a cat person, too, so I totally love the way you’ve described the family fawning over both cats. I’d love to see photos of Socks and Willow. We really are only allowed to live in the house w/ the critters, yes?
Glenda, our cats were both strays dropped off near our house. They both seemed to think they were fairly human and ought to be allowed the rights of humans. But they are both male and trying to take over, which means they’ve been spending a lot more time outside! Poor things!
BTW, did your husband teach junior English at Lewiston High School in the ’90s?
No! My husband spent his career in agriculture, first managing a fertilizer plant 30 years; then working for the Idaho Dept. Of Agriculture in the enforcement division.
Fibonacci Poem
I
don’t
claim to
understand
everything I teach.
Instead I wait and let the world
reveal itself like a lemon-juiced secret letter,
a little heat from my students’ questions gracing me with an extraordinary truth.
Katrien, this is a spectacular fib. Kudos for extending beyond the six lines typical of this form. Love the metaphor comparing the world to a “lemon-juiced secret letter.” Fun and original! I love the way student questions teach teachers, and I’m w/ you when it comes to not understanding “everything I teach.” I learned students respect teachers who admit they do t have all the answers.
I love this…the lemon-juiced secret letter is perfect.
Katrien — Oooo, the last two lines particularly are powerhouses. “the world/reveal itself like a lemon-juiced secret letter” is sensory loaded. The honoring of students’ questions is just a gift here. What a terrific recognition of students’ capacity. Neat! Susie
I have several poems started for all these months past, but, alas, time cut short my finished verse! So, today, I’m encouraged to write (and finish!) because of the brevity of this form. Here’s my poem inspired by the drab leafless bushes in my front yard:
Dry
branch
waving
in crisp wind
awaits the snowfall
to frost grey bark with pristine white.
Julie, This is a wonderful fib, and I’m thrilled the brief form worked well for you. December is hectic, so I wanted to offer forms that may be new, that take less time to write, and that offer some easy creative writing lessons for students antsy for winter break.
The diction in your bib is precise and crisp, creating a sense of fall chill moving into cold winter. “Waving wind awaits” create a briskness w/ the alliteration and consonance.
oooooooh, pretty and there is tone in there too.
Inspiration poem:
Kiss
me
again
tongue and lips
like Fibonacci’s
sequence, each movement a spiral,
enfold, unfold, a working through and against, again.
— by Athena Kildegaard, from Rare Momentum
Earth
Home
Dying
Dying home
Leaders screaming trash
Yet heroes inspire the masses
To rise up! Raise fists! Scream justice for the dying earth!
-Nora Coker
Nora, I love your inspiration poem, but it’s your poem that resonates w/ me. Heroes and poets inspire “ the masses / To rise up! Raise fists! / Scream justice for the dying earth!” Were you thinking of Greta Thunberg when you wrote this poem? It makes me think of her, and many of the witnesses during the recent impeachment hearings.
Yes, she was definitely the inspiration for what my poem was about. I shared the other poem because I used it to help me fully understand the structure of my Fib. It was beautiful I thought and worthy of also sharing.
Nora, I absolutely love the tribute to Greta. I’m simply seething about all of the criticism – and you are so right that heroes inspire the masses to rise up for justice. Beautiful!
Heroes do inspire the masses! Your line about leaders screaming trash is so powerful, not only because they do but because the words are a trashing.
Nora!
You model so well the power of a mentor text to scaffold content and form while making space for something new…and, well, powerful. the repetition of “dying” holds on to me visually and verbally. The screaming shows such urgency that The “To rise up” Raise fits!” is so needed, a necessary response.
Sarah
Nora — I really like both of these poems. The Fibonacci descriptors in the first one are graceful… the “each movement a spiral,/enfold, unfold….. working through and against, again” – so very Fibonacci!1! The loud voice in the second poem really hits hard, and I love it. That you call for raised fists fits so well the strength in the voice. “Leaders screaming” is the very frustration that I feel… and the tiny word “yet” shifts that frustration to action. Wonderful. Thanks, Susie
Love your poem and how it builds up to the last line. I hope you will share it with your students. I think they’ll be inspired to write one of their own on an issue that is important to them.
Fibonacci for Palmer Rose
Ms.
Hoegh
teaches
algebra
recites poetry
invariably: my daughter.
Allison, this is a lovely tribute to your multitalented daughter. The colon is quite effective and somehow shows how proud you are of your daughter.
Allison, I agree w/ Mo’s comment about the colon. And I sense the pride in your daughter. I’m a tad jealous of teachers who get math and write poetry. I had a colleague years ago who taught math and English. I love the way the line “algebra” works w/ the line “recites poetry,” suggesting poetry is part of math class.
Allison!
So appreciate this honoring of your daughter in verse. The word “invariably” has a neat nuance to it as a “variation” of you yet completely her own self in names “Hoegh” and” daughter.”
Love,
Sarah
Thank you, Sarah. I was trying to play on algebraic “variables”…but whatever! I always enjoy pushing against syllable counts.
As both an algebra teacher and poetry teacher, I love this poem!
Wonderful! The best of both worlds!
invariably–impressive!
Allison — Ah, you are a teacher mom… I love that. And your daughter recites poetry and teaches math…isn’t that just perfect?! I am drawn to your word “invariably” in particular… witty word choice. Help me with Palmer Rose… I don’t know this reference. Roses have Fibonacci sequences in them, but I am wondering about this name. [ An aside: Did you get big snow today? I’m snowed in out of town…just a little ways out in the country from STL…at the home of friends. I’m grateful I have and internet connection!] Susie
I love that roses have Fibonacci sequences, but “Palmer Rose” is simply my daughter’s name! No hidden allusions :-). We only got a skiff of snow, a gentle dusting <3.
Today they’re saying up to 6″ are rolling in with awful road conditions. I’m staying put out in the country with friends and hoping that Tuesday the roads clear. Thank heavens I had taken my dog to stay with friends before I trekked off to do this little jaunt. A “gentle dusting” sounds lovely! Icy roads scare the daylights out of me when I have to get on I-44 — only about 40 minutes away from home, but those semi trucks are brutal barreling in on that highway. Eek!
Ah, it’s your daughter’s name AND with a rose as a Fibonacci…now there really is poetry in that. That’s a lovely name. It’s also a champagne brand I believe….wine and roses… pretty soon we’ll be singing! 🙂
Time to go see if I can make sense of the Day 3 poetry challenge.
Great poem leading up to your daughter. I like that it’s short and yet says so much and unexpectedly so! Algebra and poetry! Great combination.
Okay, Glenda. You’re asking for it! 🙂
Ready to Retire?
Quit?
Yes!
Quit work?
Yes, quit work!
Quit working right now?
But I love teaching. I can’t quit!
But I love learning. I can’t quit!
It’s now time to stop. Just retire.
Stop learning right now?
No. never.
Retire?
Learn?
Yes!
Anna — You have me chuckling here! That nagging temptation! I think the repeated “quit” is pretty powerful here! 😉 Susie
Anna, yes I think you’ve been spying on my brain! I love this. Speaks to me and my daily grind, struggles, and passion for teaching.
Wonderful! I’m approaching this feeling in real life. I soooooooo get this fib!
Love the emphatic comments. Going through this, myself, right now.
Anna, I love the internal conversation in that first verse. I’ve had that talk w/ myself many times. Of course, retirement isn’t an ending of learning but a shift in learning.
Anna, I am loving not just the message counting up and then counting down, but the concrete/visual element of wings if you look at the shape of your poem. That’s absolutely creative and genius!
Kim, you’ve pointed out one of the special characteristics of poetry: the appearance on the page. I had not noticed the visual “message” until you and Sarah pointed it out. If I wanted to claim this was on purpose, I could say the poem represents taking off, on a jet plane, to a new stage, place, or page in the book of life!
GLENDA, Oh what fun we’re having with this poem challenge!
SARAH, Thanks so much for inviting us to comment on the postings of participants. We’re still learning what we mean when we read what others see about what we say.
Anna,
I so love how this works visually and linguistically! The punctuation, especially the question marks, work symbolically, too. And then, on another level, there is the connotation of “quit,” that I feel, and it make me think about how, really, there is a reimagining of purpose .
Thank you,
Sarah
Anna, I love how you show working and learning as mirror images of each other – and that you show that “quitting” isn’t the same as “retiring” – and it doesn’t mean giving up on learning.
My sentiments exactly! The learning never stops. Thanks for sharing.
Dad – A Fibonacci poem
My
Dad
Taught math.
Teasing teen
Minds, challenging each.
‘What is this, Amy?’ He pointed
with a smile, at the small white mark on the black chalkboard
‘A point’ said Amy with clear confidence as the class nodded their heads in agreement
‘No Amy, it’s a piece of chalk that represents a point,’ Dad said. We laughed and enjoyed the order from chaos of math in his loving hands.
Debbie — How cool is that!? It made me giggle… “it’s a piece of chalk that represents a point”! LOL! The idea of “order from chaos of math in his loving hands” is totally lovely. Very loving poem! Your dad was a good teacher with that humor, the gentle “teasing” and “a smile.” Mr. Fibonacci would be proud. 🙂 Susie
Debbie, this is exactly what my students and I need, a teacher who can bring “order from chaos of math” and perhaps we would all feel so much better. I love this poem.
I’ll bet his students loved him as he changed the chaos to order…
Debbie, this is a wonderful tribute to your father. I love the “Taught math / teasing / teen minds” alliteration. I can envision your father at a chalk board questioning Amy. Creating “order from chaos” takes a teacher w/ a special gift.
That chalk is the mathematical equivalent of figurative language in ELA! Chalk symbolism. Love it!
The line, “teasing teen minds,” is so beautiful – it’s just what a good teacher does. And it’s a job that enjoys order from chaos, much like math.
Debbie, I concur with other comments on the power of your lines
Teasing teen
Minds, challenging each.
When they think we’re teasing our students, especially teens, we’re really challenging them to think. And, it goes both ways. When they tease us, it makes us think, too.
Both make for good teaching/learning/teaching relationships.
[I decided to run up the numbers and then back down. Fibonacci x 2. 😉 ]
ROUND ‘N ROUND WITH MR. FIBONACCI: I DO PROTEST
Lie?!
Truth
to tell,
‘tis no fib:
numbers run like ice,
slice veins, my vessels meant for words.
Profess I must, no digits please;
loose leaves on water,
cipher not;
exit;
count
naught.
©Susie Morice
Susie, I’m right there w/ you! Love these lines: “numbers run like ice,
slice veins, my vessels meant for words.”
Math hurts! Numbers often feel like breathing things working against me.
Also love your playfulness w/ the form.
Susie, your writing lines
“numbers run like ice,
slice veins, my vessels meant for words.”
supports and refutes the claim that one is just either be a numbers person or a words person, but your poem shows you can do both! In fact, so much of poetry, music, and art is mathematical that we forget “we can’t do math!”
Thanks for being a double agent!
Susie, how brave you are running those numbers up and down! Your vessels truly are meant for words, but I sense that you’re pretty good with numbers, too. I just saw that Anna called you a double agent- I LOVE that!
So much beauty in “my vessels meant for words.” I love the image of loose leaves on water as well. I have much the same relationship with words and numbers.
We are kindred spirits, Susie. I, too, protest numbers and all things math. I love “slice veins, my vessels meant for words.” I think that’s why I breathe better when I’m surrounded by my word people. We understand. I see the concrete element of shape in your poem as well, just like in Anna’s – – kind of like a moth with wings. I like the way you ran the numbers up and then back down, because it adds a whole new dimension to the poetry.
I am GRINNING! I love your multiple (x!) plays on words, combined with the water metaphor. Your clever playfulness inspires me!
Oh, this makes me want to argue with you about numbers, heal your sliced veins–in other words you’ve done the magic of creating an emotional response with nothing but words on paper. Well done!
Glenda, as a lover of butterflies, your poem made me smile and giggle. I love “squirm worm” regardless of its reference to a worm. It’s still lovely and sweet. This was a fun form to try.
New Old Math
Kids’
Math
Fourth Grade
Algebra!
Regrouping nightmares!
Please Excuse My Dear Able Students
Who count on fingers, make tally marks, and still miscount!
Stacey, You Have described me perfectly, although I could manage math through elementary school. I love that you capitalize “My Dear Able Students” as though to acknowledge students who struggle w/ math and say they, too, are important.
Thanks Glenda. By the way, I tried to post yesterday’s poem and Sarah tried also but it just doesn’t want to be posted I guess. It’s weird, the comments posted just fine, and the poem will not post. It just gets stuck in the sending process. I tried again this morning and still no luck. I’ll try later.
Could you post it here in the comments? I never want to miss a poem from you!
Hi, Stacey — I was feeling that math pain…regrouping… oh gosh. I know that kid who “count on fingers, make tally marks, and still miscount”… I chat with her every day in the mirror. Ha! The exclamation mark after algebra and fourth grade…wow, really?! Gee whiz. You’re a saint! Susie
Please excuse your verse community friend (me) who does the same thing with finger counting and miscounts. I don’t function in numbers – – only in words. I love the way you ask for the excuse for those students – – I, too, have always needed mercy and grace when it comes to math.
Stacey, I love the play on My Dear Aunt Sally with My Dear Able Students. Multiply Divide Add Subtract.
I’m glad you picked up that overt hint! ??Lol! Not something we ever did when we were in 4th grade but it’s definitely required now.
Hips
sway.
Beyond
iliac
crest, ilium curves
distend barren. Decanted verse.
I felt myself moving with this poem. I am envious of the flow and rhythm in this poem.
Sarah, this is gorgeous and sensual. “Iliac” and “ilium curves” move beyond biology to suggest physical movement is itself poetry in motion. I long to make my hips move w/ such grace. Lovely poem.
Sarah – I agree with Gayle…even before I read her comment I actually did a little sway in my chair…”iliac” and “ilium curves” held sway, if you will. 🙂 The last line, though, was a show-stopper for me…”decanted verse” and “distend barren” … the sway moves to a more complex image… a sense of loss … like the something let loose. Very weighty word choices! This one deserves several readings! You have a knack of pushing images and words to a taut point. I love that. Thank you, Susie
I think emphasizing the word sway followed by the anatomical terms is a clever way of incorporating figurative language with science terms. And your summary of the process in “decanted verse”, wow!! So clever! I felt this poem and love the symbolism. Thank you for sharing.
I, too, am envious of the sensual sway and movement of the hips and the poem. My iliac and ilium do more of a jostle – they don’t sway. I’m still reading and rereading this one and thinking about each word – and looking also at the shapes of these poems today. The word “beyond” in the middle of the others forms a shape of hips.
Sarah, thank you for this poem. My reading took me to infertility at that fertile crescent–which may have been way off (but I’m always curious to see what people sip off my poems). I’ve murmured “decanted verse” again and again: a pouring out? I sense a pouring out of sensual imagery, those swaying hips, and an emptiness: barren/decant. Thank you for a poem that in so few words took me to lots of thinking.
Sarah,
I had to look up iliac and ilium as my curiosity was peaked in reading your poem. It draws me in to wonder about the meaning of this short poem. I feel the positive feminity of “hips sway”, but somehow, the words, “distend barren” seem to reflect longing. Thank you for sharing your poem, my friend.
Julie
Glenda, From the initial “squirm worm” – a command to such a tiny being – followed by another “burst from,” I feel like a participant in the process. The internal rhyme in the first two lines and the alliteration in “baby butterfly” add depth, mimicking the depth that underlies the transformation of the caterpillar.
Fibonacci Family
One
Me
Then two
gayle and jim
All so easy, but
I wanted more (than just us) so
we reproduced and made a girl and she was perfect
but I wanted more but then wehadtwins and wewerefull, so no infinity.
I appreciate that the poem’s movement from simple to more complex mimics your life. Running the words “wehadtwins and wewerefull” shows the fullness. The nod to the mathematical term “infinity” and the scientific “reproduced” reflect the title.
Gayle, I love the humor you employ by crowding words together in “wehadtwins” and “wewerefull” to show how love grows and fills a house.
Me too! Playful and ACCURATE! 🙂
How cute is this! I had a little anxiety on “wehadtwins” just imagining it all. Love your creative explanation in poetry of your family.
Thanks to all who write Golden Shovel poems yesterday. I loved reading your inspired poems and seeing the poems that inspired your thinking.
We had some late arrivals, so do circle back to day one and dig into the poems of those who posted late and to read new comments for your poems, too. For me the commenting is what made me fall in love w/ this community.
I plan on making the golden shovel poem part of my curriculum! As an aside, I read the prompt for today, then fell asleep. I had the “haven’t attended class all semester” dream about a college math class. They were teaching Fibonacci numbers in the class. Thanks, I think!!
That’s hilarious. If I were to dream about math it would be a nightmare!
Identity
To
be
Yourself
in a world
defining you as them
is the greatest journey of all.
Jennifer, Amen! That “world defining you as them” is so hard to transcend. Love that you acknowledge the struggle in this concise form.
Jennifer,
Thank you for this reminder of
in this space where people try to hold up a distorted mirror, of
as we are just trying to our best on our own journey. Yes, we need others to guide us, but on “our” journey — not theirs.
Sarah
Yes!!! And what a great message to bring to children. And finding our identity is a journey truly worth taking. Thank you for sharing your words.
Jennifer, I just want to frame this one. What a great message. Nora wrote today about Greta, and I sense a little Greta here as well. It is too confining to ever be held in silent agreement, and your poem certainly carries this message so clearly.
“5:00 AM”
Cough.
Splat!
Gurgle.
Repeat. The
morning wake-up call
of the sick dog. After I plod
near, we groan in tandem as I wipe up the start of our day.
**This poem was inspired by real-life events**
Been there, done that! I love wiping up the start of the day. Your poem made me say, “Ew! Gross!” and laugh out loud at the same time, so well done, I guess! ?
It is the month for dog splatter! Ours did the same three days ago. Those first three lines! I feel you here (and for the dog as well).
Britt, “Cough, splat, gurgle” are familiar sounds to humans owned by dogs! Sometimes the cat awakens me w/ her hacking. Sometimes we play detective investigating which animal has suffered through a vomiting fit. Sending empathy from Idaho.
Britt!
Thank you for the astersisks at the end — they are a lovely peri-test to your verse! Sorry about the “Splat!” What a “gift” you are to care for your pup in the early morning!
Sarah
A true picture of pet ownership! I like the tandem groaning bit!!
Britt — Well, girl, this is very real. As a critter person, I’ve certainly done my share of “wipe up.” “Real-life” indeed. Susie
Aww, the things we do for the love of our dogs. Funny way to use onomatopoeia. P.S. I hope your puppy is okay.
Britt, as an avid dog lover, I adore your succinct capturing of the sick dog in the morning – – the heaves, the knowing it’s going to be one of those wipe-up kind of mornings. Those real-life events are the reason you got it so accurate and put us right there with you. There’s simply no substitute for experience!
It is so good to see you here again today, Britt! I appreciate the “groan in tandem” to show the shared misery. To “wipe up the start of the day” is so good. Here we go…swipe.
This poem was inspired by my visiting grandson.
Time
flies
swiftly
genes pass down,
those smiles, giggles
are everything. Life is good.
Giggles are truly everything. I can hear them as I read this. Thanks for this little glimpse of happiness this morning.
Mo, my heart is melting thinking about the love between grandmother and grandson captured in this fib. It all goes by so fast. Enjoy this time, which I know you will.
Mo — First, I want to say that I love seeing your picturs on Facebook! You are really embracing and making the most of “Time” as it “flies/swiiftly.” Indeed, your sweet “genes” in your grandson show the joyful smiles I have come to enjoy seeing in your pics. (Sorry if this sounds staker-ish.)
Sarah
You are so sweet, and not stalker-ish at all! This fall at the IRC someone shouted at me, “Hey! It’s Nathan’s grandma!” She proceeded to compliment my photos and the love that she saw in them, truly making me blush. I composed myself and said, “And you are….?” She is my daughter-in-law’s coworker. She said she felt like she knew me. What a compliment!
I’ve always said there is nothing more joyous and pure than children smiling and laughing. I adore your Fib Poem and thank you for sharing the sweet innocence of what makes life good.
Hi, Mo — This is downright sweet. I particularly enjoy that in so few words you’ve passed down genes and a strong sense of love and connection emerges. “Life is good” indeed. Susie
Mo, what a sweet sentiment – sharing the familiar realizations of strong grandchild genes in the simple moments of expressions and mannerisms. Thank you for sharing – – you make me smile!
Glenda, I’m loving these new forms you are sharing with us this month. As a Literacy Coach, I see great potential for Fib poems in math classes as a literacy tool. Thank you *a Fibonacci Sequence number of times* for this great form today! (Is that exponential? Because I don’t know math.)
I took a poem I wrote while I was my hotel room in Baltimore at NCTE early one morning and wrote it as a Fib poem (I still detest my Chanticleer, but I was feeling the need to stand up for his rights):
Doodle Doo
A
rooster
is too loud
in the city where
gunshots, fire trucks, sirens, and trains
don’t want to be wakened so early to do their jobs?
The original poem:
In the City
Airplanes are awhoosh in the sky overhead
Demolitionists gong blocks with wrecking balls
Construction crews clang chains and tools
Hotel elevators drone and ding…..all…damned….night….long
People clatter and clamor on the chaotic streets below my window
Trains thunder past on the tracks
Music blares like an unbridled banshee
Buses brake to screeching halts
Traffic trills, engines revving
Horns honk the rumblings of road rage
Fire trucks scream past flashing red flames across my wall
Gunshots pierce the silence
Police sirens wail out like victims
blue lights pulsing through the veins of city streets
somewhere between life and death
in the city
where roosters
are against the rules.
-Kim Johnson
You have beautiful lines in both pieces. I feel that the brevity of the Fib poem brings sharp focus. The words become more powerful, each one holding its own. The sounds become sharper, more significant. I’m glad you shared both!
Kim, I’m so happy you like the poetry forms and see how they can be used in the classroom. That was my hope as I prepared the posts.
Your rewrite of your NCTE poem inspires me to think about how a fib can be used to assess students understanding of other poems through composing fibs and talking about their thinking for the rewrite.
As for both your poems, they are both wonderful. I like the way both capture how a rooster doesn’t really fit in w/ city life. “Clatter, clamor, chaotic” alliteration does a spectacular job replicating city sounds, as do “Traffic trills,” and “Horns honk, and “rumbling of road rage.” It’s ironic, for sure, to deny a rooster residence in such a noisy place!
Kim!
I am so glad I was able to see you in person and give you a hug at NCTE. It warms my heart to see the pictures you sent of our Verse Love community here!
Thank you for these poems. I love the rooster alongside airports and construction and horns — the contrasts of geography and the music of place is moving. The last lines “in the city/where roosters/are against the rules.” You now have me thinking about the roosters in my life. On one hand, I want to appreciate their song, and on the other hand, I want to silence their noise!
Peace,
Sarah
Kim — Aah, the juxtaposition of noises from the blaring cityscape with the lovely hymn of a rooster…dang, I like that bit of sass. The kicker “to do their jobs” at the end of the short poem is also good stuff… as if they did their jobs in silence…Heck no! Folks are noisy and that dutiful, sweet rooster is just singing an anthem. I really loved both of these. My favorite line is “where roosters are against the rules” … isn’t that just crazy?! My nieces have chickens, and we all just love these sweet creatures…they are so utterly interesting… true characters. Thanks for starting my Sunday with a cock-a-doodle-doo! Susie
Kim, I love both versions of your poem. They have very different feels and yet both create a clear sense of juxtaposition between city vs country life.
Kim,
Two words hit me when I read your poem – roosters and banshees. As for roosters, I was once in Zambia on a mission trip in a very rural area where the early rising roosters began to crow at 3:00 a.m., followed by later risers at 4:00 a.m., and then the last at 5:00 a.m. I started to miss my “city where roosters are against the rules”! And as for banshees, when I was young and would get wound up with my siblings running crazy through the house, my mother called us “banshees”! What are banshees anyway??! Thank you for the words that stirred my memories.
Julie
I love the directness of the Fib poem; it reminds me of Sarah Cleghorn’s “The Golf Links Lie So Near the Mill.” Your poem is just as scathing and precise in targeting its attack. I also love the surprise ending in the second (original) version of the poem.