More fibs

   Over at Brightweavings there is a little contest going on. The challenge is to write fibonacci poetry based on or related to the work of Guy Gavriel Kay. Here are a few I have come up with.


A
Death.
Simple.
Offered up.
A weft to the warp
Of the weaver's thundering call.
In the end there is more to abjure than simply life.


What's
In
A name?
(So I steal)
Is my label me?
My nation my identity?
If you could take from me all I am, what would I be?


Death
Swirls
Among
Broken stalks
Cold mud underfoot
Inevitable, like winter


Cold
Wind
A horse
Is missing
So he has been told
When they find it they will burn it
On the funeral barge of the former governor
Until that happens, the market will not open, and he shivers underneath his silk


Hot
Dry
Summer
Parched grasslands
Force the Dalrei north
Until fiery talons stretch forth
To grasp at the throat of beleaguered Fionavar

   Many more, and better ones are to be found in the contest thread over at Brightweavings.com.