A quiet notice V2Melody closes at midnight on , Spanish time.

Closes

A note from Richard

V2Melody will close at midnight on 20 January 2028

This site has been a retirement project in musical poetry: poems chosen with care and set to music, offered freely for as long as it felt right to keep the garden open.

The work no longer holds the place it once did in my life. I have gone as far with it as I wish to go. Like a sand mandala, it was made to be completed and then released. I am not attached to its permanence, and I do not believe any of it needs to last beyond the time it was given.

I want a simpler life, without the hassle of being online. The work of maintaining a server, the monitoring, and the residual obligations that come with keeping a site alive no longer fit the life I want.

From 4 November 2026 I will not be adding new poems or musical poems to the site.

Until midnight on 20 January 2028, Spanish time, everything remains available exactly as it is. That is when my VPS server contract comes to an end, and it will not be renewed. After that, the server will be switched off and the site will disappear.

Thank you to anyone who found a poem, a track, or a quiet moment here.

The pleasure was in the making.

Richard



Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.047 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.

Falsehood

by William Cartwright

−0.4571 − 0.2268i

Drawing the boundary…

Tartarus

by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

−0.4120 − 0.2134i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Falsehood

by William Cartwright

Still do the Stars impart their Light
To those that travell in the Night;
Still Time runs on, nor doth the Hand
Or Shadow on the Diall stand;
The Streames still glide and constant are:
Only thy Mind
Untrue I find,
Which carelessly
Neglects to be
Like Stream, or Shadow, Hand, or Star.

Fool that I am; I do recall
My words, and swear thou'rt like them all:
Thou seemst like Stars to nourish fire,
But O how cold is thy desire?
And like the Hand upon the Brass,
Thou point'st at me
In mockery,
If I come nigh,
Shade-like thou'lt fly,
And as the Stream with Murmur pass.

Thrice didst thou vow, thrice didst thou swear,
Whisp'ring those Oaths into mine Eare,
And t'ween each one, as Seal of Bliss,
Didst interpose a sweeter kiss:
Alas that also came from Art,
For it did smell
So fresh and wel,
That I presume
'Twas thy Perfume
That made thee swear, and not thy Heart.

Tell me who taught thy subtile Eyes
To cheat true hearts with fallacies?
Who did instruct thy Sighs to Lie?
Who taught thy kisses Sophistry?
Believe't 'tis far from honest Rigour;
O how I loath
A tutor'd Oath!
I'll ne'r come nigh
A learned Sigh,
Nor credit Vows in Mood and Figure.

'Twas Venus to me whisper'd this,
Swear and embrace, protest and kiss,
Such Oaths and Vows are fickle things,
My wanton Son does lend them wings:
The kiss must stay, the Oath must fly:
Heav'n is the Schoole
That gives this Rule:
I cann't prove true
To that and you,
The Goddess is in fault, not I.

Who for any wrong would thus much do,
For my Revenge may something too;
She, O She make thee true to all,
Marry an Army, and then fall
Through scornfull Hatred and disdain:
But mayst thou be
Still false to me;
For if thy mind
Once more prove kind
Thou'lt swear thine Oathes all o'r again.

Tartarus

by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

While in my simple gospel creed
That "God is Love" so plain I read,
Shall dreams of heathen birth affright
My pathway through the coming night?
Ah, Lord of life, though spectres pale
Fill with their threats the shadowy vale,
With Thee my faltering steps to aid,
How can I dare to be afraid?

Shall mouldering page or fading scroll
Outface the charter of the soul?
Shall priesthood's palsied arm protect
The wrong our human hearts reject,
And smite the lips whose shuddering cry
Proclaims a cruel creed a lie?
The wizard's rope we disallow
Was justice once,—is murder now!

Is there a world of blank despair,
And dwells the Omnipresent there?
Does He behold with smile serene
The shows of that unending scene,
Where sleepless, hopeless anguish lies,
And, ever dying, never dies?
Say, does He hear the sufferer's groan,
And is that child of wrath his own?

O mortal, wavering in thy trust,
Lift thy pale forehead from the dust!
The mists that cloud thy darkened eyes
Fade ere they reach the o'erarching skies
When the blind heralds of despair
Would bid thee doubt a Father's care,
Look up from earth, and read above
On heaven's blue tablet, GOD IS LOVE!

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