The day is
          but a variation
          of the previous-
          much vexation

A second chance
      is an excuse
      the first chance
      one shouldn't refuse

Feelings'  depths
    none does know
    even the most acutely felt
    no true light does it show

It's not your religion
that makes you worthy
but rather that you are worthy
of your religion--this is the reality.

The eyes convey
the true message
of the heart

only that
I should know-
does she love me?
that I should never ask

for words
they pale away
in the light
of truth

silence makes
my day
no word
need be said

her eyes--
an invitation
she wears
no mask

how could
I love
if I can't trust?

Let love be the word
first and last
let our hearts be such girt
even after our life is past

Every thing
is an issue
the minutiae of living
affects me and you

if I were nothing
I'd suffer no blue
that would be an absurd thing
it couldn't ever be true!

There's a time
for everything
but such a blessing
to do nothing!

No place is perfect
but anyhow some
have a special meaning
  the heart has the final say

  South of the Border
  song and dance abound
  even up to latest hours
  there still ring many a happy sound

   love never falls asleep
   stars are happy to stay
   as lovers make their vows
   life's tedium falls away

   when you return to Melbourne
    bring your sweet juanita along
    I know she has sparkling eyes
    she will do you no wrong.

There's much
to be said
in favour
of what's unsaid

minds to agendas
are rigidly set
I'll fare better to cast away
my mental template

In primitive society
haberdasher there was none
everyone went about naked
life seemed to be such great fun!

Please don't advise me
I don't believe in short-cut
several I knew are in jail
others are in grievous rut.

Is life
but a preview?
what's the next chapter?
would your dreams come true?

futile it is
to assume
embrace the moment
live not in gloom

distance divides us
we can't see in full view
mirage deceives the eyes
clarity belongs to so few

let preview be as it is
yet my heart must pursue
love and beauty I'll not miss
I'll venture into the new.

We'll meet again
  There's sweetness in longing
  Never mind this winter-cold
  Soon it will be spring.

We'll meet again
Home is calling
No longer the battlefield
Love shall be our eternal keeping.

We'll meet again
Tears would cease falling
The flowers in our garden
  Will share our rejoicing.

We'll meet again, for sure
Love knows no forgetting
Those songs we long cherished
Once again we'll be singing

10.30 a.m. Melb time, Tuesday 5th March 2019

There'd be no one
around as to your heart
you speak-- each life
from others hangs apart-

the past still knocks
at the door-- it does demand
to be heard-- time slows down
the present pauses to understand-

the self stands alone
zig-saw puzzles they aggrieve
reason is a poor solver
only confusion it does give-

ah, the stricken heart
how little does it know of rest
chocked for words in doubt
by burden so heavily oppressed.

Even in the country of the blind
people can't see eye-to-eye
the perennial You, You, You
and I, I, I!

I love you
but you hate me
  no tango then
  what a pity!

If you love me
   I'll never hate you
   believe my words
   every word is true.

   Perhaps neither love
   nor hatred there is
   only our imagination
   then nothing hurts or is amiss.

   But why should we
  not pretend we're in love?
  even if it is make-believe
  a happy wonder it would serve!

All that once was
is now but a dream
life changes its colours
with its unpredictable scheme

we drift on unnoticed
in its mysterious stream
in our distant reverie
how unreal all things seem

I've no intention
to hold on to memory
it carries a whip
it won't set me free--

I've no desire
to hanker for more
to want is
to make me poor-

I've no ambition
honour to acquire
I escape the confusion
I avoid the raging fire.

I've no dream
only to savour the hour
when the last light fades
I'll gladly surrender to its power.

I float in your words
   in their mysterious sea
   my boat I travel
   propelled by such beauty.

  I swim in your words
  their water cleanses me
  under the smiling blue sky
  each ripple sings a tender melody.

I  drift in your words
towards an unknown territory
the chagrin of life I leave behind
my heart is set free.

I  am at one with your words
a note that fits the perfect symphony
when the world has come to an end
such words remain unblemished in my memory.

An ordinary morning
in October
no different
from another day's
people, time, place, space
all come together
in what we name:
existence

every moment
an enticement
how shall we grasp
the day, escape self-entrapment?
the world is an unending
playing field
what rewards
will it yield?

do we look away
in unreadiness or doubt?
look at the kids
how free, how happy
they sing, how they dance
frolic and shout!

let us live
life is fragile
the past is memory
the future is misty
but the present
is the prize
and the most worthwhile

time takes
no one's side
it's the lonely sentinel
to none and nothing allied

amidst this fragility
and contingency
to whom should I turn
what should I learn?

at this hour
the children
have left he field
for home
and silence begins
to descend
a sudden strange silence
sets in to reign
a deep feeling
wells in my heart
what it portends
is beyond my understanding
left alone to my thoughts
I have a sense of loss
as gone is this October morning

For the unreachable
I don't aspire
there's a limit
to what I desire

that which is
too much
will lose
its essential touch

add no more
to the rose in perfect blooming
even if you were a painter
or poet-- that would be blemishing

its beauty-- humility bids
a clear boundary I should draw
my distance I should know how to keep
not to venture for what's beyond my door.

Even love is the unreachable
let us love, but just the possible
its beauty doesn't lean on the negotiable
it lays a feast for the faithful on its generous table.

The unreachable is an ideal--we can't reach, that's true
but a benchmark is set and we are inspired to be better than we are

Words are cheap
only deeds run deep

Happiness is not something imposed on the self--
it must come from the liberated self.

Happiness pedlars there are too many
but even these, in reality, are not happy

I choose no route
only that which helps
me to find the truth

It's in your mind
     the dark and the bright
     once the right path you find
     there's the light even at midnight.

What have I to measure?
I was never any treasure.

I need no mirror
it says the same
over and over-
' you are an error!'

What would we be
      without memory?

The leap
     that did hurt deep

I was blind
        to my wrongs, oblivious
        revisiting past scenes
        now released I was so odious

Tears become my life-story
I need write no autobiography

Life knows
no perfect fit
I don't try
just do my bit-

others fit well
with their wit
I might be square
but I love it!

It doesn't change
if it's truth
it doesn't depend
on your mood

They don't add up
   the sums of life
   the arithmetic changes
   by the minute- as long as you are alive

Beauty has more to lose
     than ugliness
     the latter is what it is
     the former can't bear nothingness

There's a limit
even to something new
it becomes tedium
the proponents over-do

the old I still savour
have it moulded anew
it has served me well
my faith remains true

pride is multiplied when
something new has come about
the latter might just be
a gloss-over---despite the shout about

on the old I'll build
with heart and not glue
beauty is not about patching
it holds  infinitely more value.

All that we humans need
is the heart of a dog
we have lost ours indeed
despite of the best things we talk

Long ago my friends
were sweet and nice
time has gone by
they are now cold as ice

they thought then
I could offer them some prize
but I had always been poor- thus
they were too quick to bid me goodbyes.

Old age is poor in wisdom
rich in tedium and boredom

I don't wish
to be identified
don't seek my presence
that's denied

and you now ask
why?
I've joined the monastery
to the world I die

troubled neither
joy or sorrow by
no more desire
at all have I

it's midnight
no star in the sky
I'll meditate
peace will draw nigh

Cast out
by them?
you are no outcast!

without doubt
you are blessed
them you'll outlast

life is all about
what you are
yourself you must trust!

take out your pen
write and shout aloud
sharpen your brush!

they some day
will be cast out
while you last!

I went to post a letter
in Lake Rapid
applied too much postage
the sales-girl said: You' re  stupid!

I gave her a smile
and replied: read I could not
she gave me an ugly look
and retorted: 'You're more stupid than I thought!

When I am dead
let this be said:
'some tears he had shed
of death he was unafraid'.

Mel Dare
​

Mel Dare is an Australian visual artist and educator based in Perth, Western Australia. Her work explores the construction of personal narrative specifically in regards to it's relationship with how meaning is created.  This has led her to investigate different but interrelated subjects such as subjectivity, psychology, neurology, biology, identity, time and perspective.
​
During the last 16 years the artist has produced 9 solos, 3 duos and her work has been selected for numerous group exhibitions including Steal (2016), Scene (2016), Pure Contemplation Without Knowledge (2015, 2016), Dot on the Run (2015, 2016), Bankwest Art Prize (2015), Painting as an Artform (2015), Albany Art Prize (2014), Midwest Art Prize (2014), Waterhouse Natural Science Art Prize (2014) and Florid (2014, Turner Galleries and 45 Downstairs). It has been acquired by City of Joondalup, St John of God, Princess Margaret Hospital, Old Swan Brewery and many other national and international collections.

Dare lectures in drawing at Central Tafe and has taught art at Curtin University of Technology, Bandyup and Nyandi Prisons, Applecross Gifted & Talented Program, Nascha Inc (disabilities services) and various other private and public organisations. In addition she has undertaken various curatorial projects including Darlington Open Art Awards 2016, 12 Days and Gotham Returns (with Andrew Nicholls). Dare has been a resident artist at Gotham Studios since 2008.

FOR MD
    
     Cast into the unknown of time
     staying with the moment I begin to see
     the hidden is the most sublime
     the ultimate grandeur and beauty-

     into the depth of my being I delve
     to draw out in art my inner mystery
     I am defined by what's inside myself
     I create to find meaning which sets me free

I like the absurd
much it does teach me
without doubt
where could  clarity be?

I walk away from those
who claim certainty
they are on the point
of no return--such tragedy!

Only now
does the dust settle
memory left behind
the heart has resigned
to what has been
peace returns to the mind

life -
the perennial contingency
the chequered route
(weak is the human will)--
the desiring
and hankering
after will-o'-the wisp
the restless dream
the feverish delirium
the self struggling to be-
a lonely leaf drifting
on a nameless stream

the more
sought of glory
that but leads
to misery
the self is lost
in its exiled monastery

and now
does the dust settle
to be empty
is to be free