Sunday, November 26, 2006

I can't stop Fib Sunday

Art, or the arts, is the pinnacle of life and humanity. Of this, I have no doubt, not even a shadow. For proof, I'd point to high days, holidays, weddings, wakes and funerals. We sing songs, hymns, carols; we read poetry; we get a photographer in; we commission a portrait painter.

When we are at our lowest ebb, dear reader, we reach for something higher. The higher life, if we believe in all that, or something
highbrow. We reach. We are always reaching. Until we give up.

In order not to give up, I always reach for a favourite book of mine: 101 Poems That Could Save Your Life. J'adore them all, but two favourites are as follows:

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Perhaps I shouldn't say so, but Résumé by Dorothy Parker always brings a smile to my face. If I need to think, to consider, I turn to Fujiwara No Kiyosuke's I May Live On:

I may live on until
I long for this time
In which I am so unhappy,
And remember it fondly.

Why do we turn to a poetry anthology for inspiration, put pen to paper or wander an art gallery? Why are theatres obvious secular cathedrals? Why do we reach? Why are the arts, then, on a higher plane, above us, within reach of some, out of reach to others? And do we like it that way?

Now, dear reader, it's time to turn to Fib Sunday.

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:
One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.
Last week, Brian left us with the topic of The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe. My response:

So
Far
Inside
The closet.
(So glad we made it)
You are in fucking Narnia.

Next topic:

Killing

7 comments:

Brian said...

Tell
me
why Minge
comes up with
bizarre topics for
haiku and fibs of late. Killing?!

Next topic:

Highland Cows

Anonymous said...

Big
and
beefy
like my man
smelly, hairy, they
Used to be chocolate and tan.

(I'm getting worse at these rather than better...)

Next topic:

Boating Accident

kevin said...

Hi minge
Yes i sure am going to NYC. I cant wait. I see you are in Scotland. Bloody cold over there i reckon.

Nice photo's.
Kevin in New Zealand.

Minge said...

Hello, Kevin. Yes, it is cold. Bbbrrr!

The fib:

Sea,
Speed.
Dead calm.
Cozumel.
Happiness was found -
Equal and opposite, physics.

Next topic:

New England

Lex Ham Rand said...

Trees,
rocks,
rivers...
the New World!
Better to be here,
than rotting in debtor's prison!

Next topic:

Pens and paper

Ina said...

Nib,
Sheet,
Thinking.
Blank Paper.
What will I write now?
A Fib on Pens and paper.

Next topic

Why is it difficult to think of topics?

Ina

xxx

Brian said...

New
thoughts
are hard
to come by
when you're wondering:
Is Ina writing or is Minge?

Next topic:

Countdown to Christmas