Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.022 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.

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

−0.5004 − 0.1326i

Drawing the boundary…

Tail-End Charlie

by Richard

−0.4780 − 0.1347i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Dry-Point

by Philip Arthur Larkin

Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can —
It will grow again, until we begin dying.

Silently it inflates, till we're enclosed 
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright blown walls collapse,

But what sad scapes we cannot turn from then:
What ashen hills! what salted, shrunken lakes!
How leaden the ring looks,
Birmingham magic all discredited,

And how remote that bare and sunscrubbed room, 
Intensely far, that padlocked cube of light 
We neither define nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.

Tail-End Charlie

by Richard

Belly cold, in the dark he rides, 
Lancaster's tail, where the danger hides
Tail-end Charlie, the loneliest soul, 
a speck of dust 'gainst the fiery whole
Four engines roar, a symphony grim, 
a bomber's ballet, a deadly hymn

He scans the inky black, a watchful eye,
for the Messerschmitt's bite, the flak that flies
His fingers grip the guns, a steady hand, 
the bomber's shield, the last line of sand
Tail-end Charlie, a hero unsung, 
guarding his brothers, their victory sprung

Icy wind whips, through the perspex dome, 
tracers like streaks, lighting up his home
He fights the bite, the endless strain, 
a sleepless vigil, a pouring rain
Of fear and sweat, as the bomber pounds, 
enemy cities, on hallowed grounds

The bombs fall heavy, a fiery rain, 
a sacrifice made, for freedom's gain
He knows the danger, the ever-present threat, 
but courage unyielding, he won't back down yet

Though history whispers, their names may fade, 
their bravery echoes, a debt we've all paid
Tail-end Charlie, the lone wolf's cry, 
a guardian angel, soaring in the sky

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