Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.035 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.

This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.

My Covid, My Cure

by Richard

0.0647 − 0.4093i

Drawing the boundary…

Qua Cursum Ventus

by Arthur Hugh Clough

0.0305 − 0.4015i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

My Covid, My Cure

by Richard

The world shut down, locked in its cage
Empty streets, a lonely stage
Then you walked in, a sight to see
A fire burning, wild and free

You were the cough, the fever's grip
Took my breath away, stole every trip
My heart went racing, beat out of time
Lost in your eyes, a beautiful crime

You're my Covid, the panic and dread
But the only cure for the life I led
Shaking me up, tearing me down
Building me back, the strongest I've found
You're my Covid, my sweet disease
Burning up, down on my knees

Quarantined nights, just you and I
No escape, but I don't wanna fly
We built a world, inside these walls
Two against the world, when darkness falls

You were the chills, the body aches
But your touch ignited, a love that wakes
My soul screamed out, a desperate plea
Drowning in you, but I can't break free

We were the isolation, the space between
But our love ignited, a fiery scene
Through the lockdowns tight, our bond did grow
An unbreakable force, a forbidden flow

Down on my knees, begging for your kiss
My Covid, my cure, forever bliss

Qua Cursum Ventus

by Arthur Hugh Clough

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,
Two towers of sail at dawn of day
Are scarce long leagues apart descried;

When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:

E’en so—but why the tale reveal
Of those, whom year by year unchanged,
Brief absence joined anew to feel,
Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered—
Ah, neither blame, for neither willed,
Or wist, what first with dawn appeared!

To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
Through winds and tides one compass guides—
To that, and your own selves, be true.

But O blithe breeze; and O great seas,
Though ne’er, that earliest parting past,
On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.

One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where’er they fare,—
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
At last, at last, unite them there!

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