Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.026 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.

The Mariner's Curse

by Richard

−0.2265 − 0.4387i

Drawing the boundary…

Ceol-Sidhe

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.2197 − 0.4636i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Mariner's Curse

by Richard

Out on the ocean, we set our sails,
A mariner's tale through the stormy gales,
An albatross soaring, a symbol of grace,
We cheered and we hailed, in that desolate place.

But oh, the mariner's hand,
Struck down the bird that graced our land,
Now a curse upon our fate,
In this vast and empty expanse.

The winds they did die, the sun stood still,
A silent sea, a foreboding chill,
With heavy hearts and parched dry throats,
We paid the price for what we wrote.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink,
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

The dead men stood with vacant eyes,
As the mariner faced his solemn cries,
A life of penance, a tale to tell,
To wander the earth, a living shell.

A lesson learned through endless strife,
To cherish all that shares our life,
The albatross, a spirit's guide,
In every heart, the truth does bide.

Now hear the mariner's call,
Respect the life that binds us all,
For every action bears its weight,
In the web of our shared fate.

Ceol-Sidhe

by Nora Hopper Chesson

There never was any music 
In the golden throat of a bird, 
More fine and clear than the piping 
That in dreams I heard 
Cry through the Heart Lake's rushes, 
And falter and fade away, 
Like odours of thyme one crushes 
In the heat of the day. 

There never was any piping 
So sweet and tender and gay, 
It came like the wind, and lightly 
It blew away — 
It laughed and it grew not weary, 
It sighed and was sweeter yet, 
It sang for the hope of Eri 
And her heavy fret. 

There never was any piping 
So merry and none so sad, 
For it sang of a far green island 
Where, scarlet-clad, 
All under the druid quicken, 
Wild dancers gather and go, 
And under the oaks, unstricken, 
Feeds Saav, the doe. 

And when silence took the piping, 
"It's O to be there," I cried, 
"To dance with no thought of grieving 
For joy that died — 
To dance, and be never weary 
For night or day, 
With the kindliest folk of Eri 
Till the dew's away. 
Sweet, sweet is the twilight dancing, 
Not sweet is the homespun day." 
But the dawn through the rushes glancing 
Drove my dream away. 

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content