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

0.037 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.

Time's Song

by Winthrop Mackworth Praed

0.1834 + 0.5882i

Drawing the boundary…

Am I a prisoner?

by Anna Hempstead Branch

0.1465 + 0.5945i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Time's Song

by Winthrop Mackworth Praed

O'er the level plains, where mountains greet me as I go,
O'er the desert waste, where fountains at my bidding flow,
On the boundless beam by day, on the cloud by night,
I am riding hence away: who will chain my flight?

War his weary watch was keeping,—I have crushed his spear;
Grief within her bower was weeping,—I have dried her tear;
Pleasure caught a minute's hold,—then I hurried by,
Leaving all her banquet cold, and her goblet dry.

Power had won a throne of glory: where is now his fame?
Genius said, "I live in story:" who hath heard his name?
Love beneath a myrtle bough whispered "Why so fast?"
And the roses on his brow withered as I past.

I have heard the heifer lowing o'er the wild wave's bed;
I have seen the billow flowing where the cattle fed;
Where began my wandering? Memory will not say!
Where will rest my weary wings? Science turns away!

Am I a prisoner?

by Anna Hempstead Branch

Am I a prisoner? What have I done?…
What is this silence and this heavy door?
Suppose 'tis bolted and I go out no more?
I sweat all over and I seem like one
Hid in a dungeon by some cruel king.
There is an evil in this atmosphere.
Here is the sudden thrust of swordlike fear.
The air seems full of subtle reasoning.
What web of craft here weaves its rich design!
With sighs of men forgotten! What prayers are these!
Some whispering of things strange and malign
Masters my will with cruel images!
Now fierce magnetic energies constrain
My flesh to shake and all but freeze my brain.

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