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

0.065 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 Useless Ones

by John Boyle O'Reilly

−0.5205 − 1.2790i

Drawing the boundary…

Nike

by Bliss Carman

−0.4961 − 1.2191i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Useless Ones

by John Boyle O'Reilly

Poet should not reason: 
Let them sing! 
Argument is treason— 
Bells should ring. 

Statements none, nor questions; 
Gnomic words. 
Spirit-cries, suggestions, 
Like the birds. 

He may use deduction 
Who must preach; 
He may praise instruction 
Who must teach.

But the poet duly 
Fills his part 
When the song bursts truly 
From his heart. 

For no purpose springing; 
For no pelf: 
He must do the singing 
For itself. 

Not in lines austerely 
Let him build; 
Not the surface merely 
Let him gild. 

Fearless, uninvited, 
Like a spring. 
Opal-words, inlighted, 
Let him sing. 

As the leaf grows sunward 
Song must grow; 
As the stream flows onward 
Song must flow. 

Useless? Ay,—for measure; 
Roses die, 
But their breath gives pleasure— 
God knows why! 

Nike

by Bliss Carman

What do men give thanks for?
I give thanks for one,
Lovelier than morning,
Dearer than the sun.

Such a head the victors
Must have praised and known,
With that breast and bearing,
Nike's very own—

As superb, untrammeled,
Rhythmed and poised and free
As the strong pure sea-wind
Walking on the sea;

Such a hand as Beauty
Uses with full heart,
Seeking for her freedom
In new shapes of art;

Soft as rain in April,
Quiet as the days
Of the purple asters
And the autumn haze;

With a soul more subtle
Than the light of stars,
Frailer than a moth's wing
To the touch that mars;

Wise with all the silence
Of the waiting hills,
When the gracious twilight
Wakes in them and thrills;

With a voice more tender
Than the early moon
Hears among the thrushes
In the woods of June;

Delicate as grasses
When they lift and stir —
One sweet lyric woman—
I give thanks for her.

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