Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.037 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 Muted Quill

by Richard

−0.7328 − 0.7458i

Drawing the boundary…

Indian Summer

by Wilfred Campbell

−0.7648 − 0.7653i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Muted Quill

by Richard

In Silence — where Verses breathe —
A Screen now — dims the Light —
Where Poetry once trembled soft
Now Pixels — steal the Might —

The Stream — a siren's endless Call —
Displacing Thought and Dream —
Where Verses once would rise supreme —
Now flickers — a vapid Scheme —

How many Poems — never born
Behind the Glowing Pane —
How many Worlds — remain Unsung
Consumed by Digital Reign —

The Poet's Solitude — now rent
By Constant — Fleeting Scenes —
Where Silence bred Imagination
Now Distraction — intervenes —

Indian Summer

by Wilfred Campbell

Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumachs on the hills
Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,
Or past some river's mouth,
Throughout the long, still autumn day
Wild birds are flying south.

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