Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.016 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 Merchant's Tale

by Richard

0.2204 − 0.5313i

Drawing the boundary…

The Eviction

by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

0.2124 − 0.5447i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Merchant's Tale

by Richard

Old January, wealthy knight,
Thought he’d wed to his delight,
He chose a bride so young and fair,
A maiden named May, with golden hair.

Oh, January, don't you see,
Young May’s not what she seems to be,
With plans so bold and tricks so sly,
This tale will leave you wondering why!

They married in a grand affair,
With food and wine beyond compare,
But January was old and blind,
While May had something else in mind.

Young Damian, a squire sweet,
Caught May’s eye, oh what a treat,
They whispered secrets, planned their game,
While January, none the wiser, lame.

In the garden lush and green,
May and Damian were oft seen,
They climbed a tree, the game was set,
For a tryst that none would soon forget.

Blinded knight, he stood below,
While May and Damian’s love did grow,
Suddenly his sight returned anew,
Caught them in the act, it’s true!

May cried out, a clever dame,
“It’s for your sight, I’m not to blame,
I wrestled with the squire so dear,
To bring your vision back, my dear!”

So if you wed a maiden young,
And think your life will be so sung,
Remember January’s tale of woe,
And be wary, lest your sight you throw!

The Eviction

by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Unruly tenant of my heart,
Full fain would I be quit of thee.
I've played too long a losing part.
Thou bringest me neither gold nor fee.

'Tis time thou shouldst thy holding yield,
Thy will and mine no longer meet.
With cockle hast thou sowed my field,
With squanderings all the public street.

Thy presence doth disturb my pride.
Let me be owner of my own.
I fling thee with thy goods outside
And bar re--entry with a stone.

Begone and hide thee from my face.
I will not see thee chiding there.
Away, to live in my disgrace!
Away, to die in thy despair!

O impotence of human wit!
The law is mine, the fault in thee,
And yet in vain I serve the writ,
In vain I scourge thee with decree.

For lo, in stillness of the night,
O'erturning stone and guard and door,
Thou art come with thy lost tenant--right
And hast possession as before.

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