About The Pondering Poet Pilot

My name is Stephen Tomkins, an A330 Captain for an Australia-based airline. I am married with kids. Interests: music, guitars, poetry, reading, psychology, and learning. I suspect all of this makes me an atypical pilot. For many years, I had been creating silly rhymes and songs for my children. As they grew up, and found my creations embarrassing (ah teenagers!), I felt drawn to write poetry of a different kind - some humourous, some less so, on whatever topic grabs my attention. It's strange how the mind works at times! All posts are my own original work. If you would like to share them, you are most welcome to do so provided that you attribute authorship to me. Thank you for your support. I hope you enjoy my creations.

In Paper We Trust

A book has a cover

And pages between,

Though now for a cover,

The pages, a screen.

The words will not change

Nor the screen fade away.

The words rearrange

But the meaning won’t stray.

How does this transpire?

Some magic perhaps.

To me paper’s higher –

For books and for maps.

 

Stephen Tomkins
18 April 2019
Singapore

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Hong Kong Style

Skyscrapers eagerly reach for the cloud,

Each new one trying to puncture the shroud –

Precariously perched on the side of a hill,

A balancing act of spectacular skill.

 

Inside the glittering towers of glass,

They labour in hope that their dreams come to pass.

Lower on down in the shimmering shops,

Luxury brands flaunt their exclusive chops.

 

Ubiquitous red and gold, gaudy to some,

Signals to all that the new year has come.

Clearly a festival bigger than big –

This year announcing the Year of the Pig.

 

Everyone seeking their own pot of gold

They hope comes their way before they’re too old.

Unique to Hong Kong? I see you now smile.

The answer is “no”, but they have their own style!

 

Stephen Tomkins
1 February 2019
Hong Kong

 

 

 

 

A Heart

How easily the head can drown out a heart

And, certainly, life likes to play its own part.

Bills to be paid and things to be done –

No time to play nor walk in the sun.

 

Weeks can dissolve and months fade away

While, down in the trenches, we battle with days.

New Year, then Easter, then Christmas arrive,

While all we can do is fight to survive.

 

The heart is forgotten, but still it beats on

And, sometimes, we wonder just where we went wrong.

But this is all part of the fabric of life –

A heart’s done its job when you know you’re alive.

 

Stephen Tomkins
10 February 2019
Osaka

 

 

Too Soon

Trees still as statues

On carpets of grass.

Air barely moving

And flowers like glass.

 

A world scarcely breathing,

A moment serene.

In the silence, a healing,

An unceasing dream.

 

Then out of the aching

Blue dome up above,

The city descends

Like the slap of a glove,

 

Shoving the statues

And breaking the glass

And, far too soon,

This Eden must pass.

 

Stephen Tomkins
19/2/19
Perth

 

 

Music on the Radio

Highway traffic, moving slow.

No way round it, don’tcha know?

Music on the radio,

Won’t you make the traffic go?

 

Interrupting urgent ads,

Saving me from useless fads,

Music on the radio,

Can’t you make the traffic flow?

 

Fervent preaching sermonising,

Commentators patronising.

Music on the radio –

I know, I know, I know.

 

In the mornings, afternoons,

Endless talk by paid buffoons.

Music on the radio,

Please just make the workday go.

 

Stephen Tomkins
15 March 2019
Singapore

Uploaded

A torrent of memories

Falls from my mind,

Like a forest of leaves

By late-autumn defined.

They flash on the screen

Of my mind’s inner eye,

Evoking emotion,

A tear or a sigh.

 

Just why they appear

At this moment in time,

I cannot explain –

There’s no reason nor rhyme.

All I can say is:

I wish you were here.

This never occurs

When I know you are near.

 

Stephen Tomkins
26 January 2019
Auckland

People Services

Thank you for your call today

(Oh, won’t you please just go away?)

Your colleagues, we are serving now

(So please applaud while we all bow!)

Important your call really is

(Or some such other silly fizz!)

Just go ahead and join the queue

(We’ve more exciting things to do).

 

You may think there are people here

(But that is a mistake, I fear)

Our name implies there’s service too

(Perhaps there is, but not for you!)

So please complete our online form

(Well, hasn’t that become the norm?)

To speed your query straight on through

(The options will be wrong for you!)

 

Surely you must know we care?

(As long as quickly you despair)

We’ll contact who you really need

(Our task is really to impede)

So just sit back and do relax

(Make contact by email or fax)

You could be waiting quite a while

(Efficiency is not our style!)

 

Stephen Tomkins
19 January 2019
Sydney

 

Guns

Check your egos at the door,

Leave your guns and, furthermore,

Make your way onto the floor –

There’s always room for just one more.

 

The gangsters and the rappers too

Will likely have more bling than you

But that won’t stop the funky beat

From whipping up a tasty treat.

 

‘Cause, in the end, who really cares

Just who submits to stupid dares?

We’re all here to have some fun –

For that, you will not need a gun.

 

Stephen Tomkins
18 January 2019
Sydney

Unkind

He wakes in the morning and opens the blinds,

Hoping for answers that he never finds.

Yet, deep down, he knows that it’s all in his mind,

In spite of the pain to which he’s resigned.

 

If he could but count the well-meaning advice

That unfailingly makes him feel worse in a trice,

He’d have run out of numbers a long time ago,

So, he smiles and continues to fight on alone.

 

He knows he has much to feel grateful about –

A black hole of nothingness sucks it all out.

To feel like a human, he desperately tries,

But all he can summon is deep, heartfelt sighs.

 

Still, life motors on and he knows this will pass –

Tears and pain and wounded feelings won’t last.

If, somehow, he can only bear these few hours,

He’ll rise from the mud and emerge from the showers.

 

Stephen Tomkins
1 January 2019
Osaka

I Wonder

A quorum of quarrelsome clouds has convened,

Disrupting a day that had dawned quite serene.

Sparking an argument, rumbling away,

It’s clear that they all will have plenty to say.

 

For those of us earthlings stuck here on the ground,

It’s time to seek shelter, if some can be found.

For while the big boys are all roaring their rage,

One never can find a free Faraday cage.

 

Lit up with rage and all venting their spleens,

Like indulged children, they conquer the scene.

And, in the end, when they go on their way,

I’ll still be here wondering what they tried to say.

 

Stephen Tomkins

26 November 2018

Sydney