A Fibonacci Poem: Everywhere You Look

[tectak]

Everywhere You Look

There
they
are- in
tornadoes,
shells, and hurricanes-
spirals are everywhere you look.
Galaxies, whirlpools, and flowers-
the whole universe,
all of it,
spins like
a
top.

Do
these
spirals
purposely
appear in nature,
created with such precision,
so that we can’t help but wonder
what brilliant artist
must exist
to craft
each
one?

Hi mark,
Good that this is in Miscellaneous as there is probably more to argue on the "value" of this kind of cerebral perambulation than on anything even remotely connected with its poetic worth. Please note that I did not say "worthlessness" .
Once again you confront me with text. There is nothing IN the text that enlightens, inovates, enthralls or even surprises the average reader. That Fibonacci "had" a series is of limited import to the masses but the consequences of the "determined series" are far reaching enough to lay claim to some minor amazement when explained. Which you do not. To be told that we should "be surprised" and then be denied some revelation...worse...to end on a confession of ignorance, is a little disappointing.
As for the "form", one assumes that by some definition "concrete" poetry has (or had) value, it sadly is not within my powers of comprehension; so, sadly, nor my appreciation.
In this piece you write of a significant truth but one which is not unknown, studied, analysed, pontificated on and generally beaten to death by omni-presence. To make a point of no point at all you choose to "shape" the words, regardless, in to a couple of non-linear graphical representations of some arbitrary geometric progression...they could be logarithmic, parabolic, elliptic, quadratic....any thing. Because it doesn't matter and THAT is significantly the point.

So what have we got here?
 
There they are- in tornadoes, shells, and hurricanes-spirals are everywhere you look. Galaxies, whirlpools, and flowers-the whole universe, all of it, spins like a top. cliche, by the way Do these spirals purposely appear in nature, created with such precision,so that we can’t help but wonder what brilliant artist must exist to craft each one? Who knows? Do you? I don't...and I will tell you something else I don't know...no...forget it. There will always be another day. Amazing that. I wonder who planned it...yes. Those days keep right on coming. Hmmm.

Sorry if this sounds dismissive but you convinced me early on that I could expect great things. I am sure they will be forthcoming. In those immortal words, nearly. You have written a great poem...but this wasn't it.
Don't ever forget, all is opinion. Take it or leave it.
Best,
tectak