Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.017 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.

Pauline's Air Fryer Blues

by Richard

−0.2749 − 0.1965i

Drawing the boundary…

Matin Song

by Thomas Heywood

−0.2589 − 0.1922i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Pauline's Air Fryer Blues

by Richard

Pauline's got a gadget but she ain't impressed
Got an air fryer sittin and it gives her no rest
Eighty-five years and she's seen it all
But this contraption's the bane of her hall

Every recipe's a mystery wrapped in smoke
She's got no patience for this modern bloke
Knobs and buttons makin' her feel weak
She misses her stove that's genuine antique

Pauline’s air fryer givin her strife
Stirrin up trouble in her peaceful life
She’s a classic lady in a techy world
Old-fashioned ways make her feel like a girl

Rememberin the days of a trusty old pan
Long before machines made meals so bland
With every beep she rolls her eyes
Wishing for simpler times under the skies

Neighbors rave about this modern might
But Pauline keeps waging her personal fight
She's got no love for this fancy toy
Her fried chicken now brings no joy

Broken recipes and burnt mistakes
Every air fryer meal her heart it breaks
She's a culinary queen from back in the day
Now this gizmo makes her kitchen a fray

Matin Song

by Thomas Heywood

Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft
To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow:
Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!
To give my Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow
Notes from them all I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!
And from each bill let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cocksparrow,
You pretty elves, among yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow!
To give my Love good-morrow!
Sing, birds, in every furrow!

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