Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.019 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.

Murmerings in a Field Hospital

by Carl Sandburg

−0.5130 + 0.2666i

Drawing the boundary…

Atlantis

by Gordon Bottomley

−0.4945 + 0.2693i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Murmerings in a Field Hospital

by Carl Sandburg

Come to me only with playthings now 
A picture of a singing woman with blue eyes 
Standing at a fence of hollyhocks, poppies and sunflowers 
Or an old man I remember sitting with children telling stories 
Of days that never happened anywhere in the world 

No more iron cold and real to handle, 
Shaped for a drive straight ahead 
Bring me only beautiful useless things 
Only old home things touched at sunset in the quiet 
And at the window one day in summer 
Yellow of the new crock of butter 
Stood against the red of new climbing roses 
And the world was all playthings 

Atlantis

by Gordon Bottomley

What poets sang in Atlantis? Who can tell
The epics of Atlantis or their names?
The sea hath its own murmurs, and sounds not
The secrets of its silences beneath,
And knows not any cadences enfolded
When the last bubbles of Atlantis broke
Among the quieting of its heaving floor.

O, years and tides and leagues and all their billows
Can alter not man's knowledge of men's hearts —
While trees and rocks and clouds include our being
We know the epics of Atlantis still:
A hero gave himself to lesser men,
Who first misunderstood and murdered him,
And then misunderstood and worshipped him;
A woman was lovely and men fought for her,
Towns burnt for her, and men put men in bondage,
But she put lengthier bondage on them all;
A wanderer toiled among all the isles
That fleck this turning star of shifting sea,
Or lonely purgatories of the mind,
In longing for his home or his lost love.

Poetry is founded on the hearts of men:
Though in Nirvana or the Heavenly courts
The principle of beauty shall persist,
Its body of poetry, as the body of man,
Is but a terrene form, a terrene use,
That swifter being will not loiter with;
And, when mankind is dead and the world cold,
Poetry's immortality will pass.

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