Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.027 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.

Bugging Out

by Richard

−0.1830 + 0.6987i

Drawing the boundary…

The Bine

by Robert Stephen Hawker

−0.1563 + 0.7005i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Bugging Out

by Richard

I woke up one fine morning, feeling something strange,
Looked down at my new body, oh, this is quite the change,
Legs a-wiggle, shell a-shine, I’m not sure how to cope,
Living life as a giant bug, there’s really little hope.

I’m bugging out, bugging out, in this crazy human world,
With my antennae up, my plans unfurled,
I’m bugging out, bugging out, trying to get along,
Who knew an insect’s life could inspire a song?

The cat’s indifferent, the dog’s afraid, Mum’s clutching at her pearls,
Dad’s got the broom, and Grete’s fainting, it’s a rollercoaster whirl,
Tried to text my boss, told him I’d be late,
Ended up with pizza, oh, life’s a twist of fate.

I’m zooming through the chat rooms, looking for my kin,
Found a toaster transformation, but no one quite like me within,
Webcam call with colleagues, they’re laughing, can’t believe,
I might be a giant bug, but I still know how to grieve.

Scuttling ‘cross the floorboards, dodging every broom,
Avoiding all the sunlight, I prefer the darkened gloom,
Work’s a lost endeavour, my boss left quite a note,
But I’m adjusting to this new life, even if remote.

So here’s to metamorphosis, in this digital age,
Living life as a giant bug, on my very own stage,
I’m bugging out, bugging out, making my own way,
Learning to embrace this life, come what may.

The Bine

by Robert Stephen Hawker

Hearken! there is in old Morwenna's shrine
A lonely sanctuary of the Saxon days,
Reared by the Severn sea for prayer and praise,
Amid the carved work of the roof, a vine;
Its root is where the eastern sunbeams fall,
First in the chancel, then along the wall;
Slowly it travels on, a leafy line,
With here and there a cluster, and anon
More and more grapes, until the growth hath gone
Through arch and aisle. Hearken! and heed the sign.
See at the altar side the stedfast root,
Mark well the branches, count the summer fruit:
So let a meek and faithful heart be thine,
And gather from that tree a parable divine.

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