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Pen Pusher Magazine and London WORD Festival bring you…

The Golden Fib Competition 2009

The Fib is a six-line, twenty syllable poem based on the classical Fibonacci sequence. Its strict formal structure means that the number of syllables on any given line must follow the classical sequence: starting with ‘0’ and ‘1’, the next number is made by adding the two previous ones together thus:

1
1
2
3
5
8

Poets Simon Barraclough, Ross Sutherland, Tim Wells, and other friends of London Word Festival, contributed their own Fibs (read them at: www.londonwordfestival.com), and then the general public was let loose!

The standard was extremely high and there were over 350 entries. But eventually, and after much deliberation, we narrowed it down to ten finalists. The results were announced at an illustrious party to mark the opening of the London Word Festival on 5th March, and Pen Pusher is proud to publish the winner and runners-up of the Golden Fib Competition 2009. Many congratulations to all the finalists.

Winner!

DEATH
BY
HOOVER,
papers said.
CLEANING ACCIDENT.
I knew better; he should have too.

– Ann Parry

Runners-up:
(in no particular order)

In
my
Bedroom;
a site for
incidences of
naked Adam yawning loudly

– Adam Loxley

Why
Cry,
Woolworths
Stalwarts, when
There is Poundstretcher
Selling just as much crap, cheaper?

– Mr Joseph Fassbinder

The
maths
lot tried
to unzip
it; the poets just
wanted to make the thing look nice.

– Ann Parry

Mam
died
Autumn.
stroke, they said,
as if an angel
misjudged the strength of their caress.

– Corrinne Frazzoni

Lack
of
moral
sentience
does not excuse the
acts of psychopaths or squirrels

– Bryn

Take
the
money
or open
the box containing
Schrödinger’s dead and not dead cat.

– Susan Grindley

‘Hef?’
‘mmm?’
‘Are you…?’
‘Awake? Yes.’
‘Ah, so you noticed…’
‘You stabbing me? Yes. Yes i did.’

– Kirsty Irving

I 
quite
like that
you have a
mushroom head, big feet.
It makes me think of toast and air.

– Horatio Bernez

No
need
to bind
the love stamp
to the valentine
bought early for my late husband.

– R Joyce Heon