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. The poems were already here before I arrived and began to experiment with them. They will still be here when these musical experiments, and indeed myself, have been swept away, like the sand of a mandala. Nothing has been lost.

I want a simpler end to my life, days of simple love and enjoyment with my wonderful wife of 20 years. The work of maintaining a server, the monitoring, and the residual obligations that come with keeping a site alive no longer fit that life.

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.

The Mandala Is Finished explains this more fully.

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

0.017 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.

The Owl

by Edward Thomas

−0.2652 − 0.1008i

Drawing the boundary…

Life

by T. E. Brown

−0.2577 − 0.0859i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Owl

by Edward Thomas

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.

Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.
All of the night was quite barred out except
An owl's cry, a most melancholy cry

Shaken out long and clear upon the hill,
No merry note, nor cause of merriment,
But one telling me plain what I escaped
And others could not, that night, as in I went.

And salted was my food, and my repose,
Salted and sobered, too, by the bird's voice
Speaking for all who lay under the stars,
Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.

Life

by T. E. Brown

O life of man, if life 'tis meet to call
This rolling with a rolling ball
Some seventy periods round the sun—
O life, that only art to have begun
A life, then straight art not a life at all.

O rigid curve mechanical,
If thou wert only absolute,
If all our energies were summed in thee,
If one great pathos thrilled the iron ring,
If, points upon the circle, fixed and mute
We felt the dominant spring
And strain of power, then were it blest to be!—

Not death would all be death, if, truly free,
We had the motion of the sphere,
If no quick atom jarred
Oblique, and crossed the act divine,
And vexed the loyal round with idiot cheer
Of self, and scrabbled all the line
With zigzags of the will, and kindly oneness marred.

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