So Gourmet

Glutinous globules of glippity Glop

Slipped from the spoon with a slippity slop.

Sad-eyed and sorry, I sat there and looked

As I tried to decide if the Glop had been cooked.

 

Now, I’m not the type who is wont to complain,

Though I started to wonder if I’d gone insane.

The Glop on the plate simply sat there and stared

And asked to be eaten if I could be dared.

 

Revulsion and Hunger began to debate

The outcome of eating the Glop on the plate,

Which seemed to enjoy the whole querulous question,

In anticipation of my indigestion!

 

Finally, my hunger I just had to sate,

So, I started to pick at the Glop on the plate.

Now I must confess that it wasn’t so bad

Though I doubt it will ever become the next fad.

 

All through the night and right up to the dawn,

The Glop I had eaten fought hard to be reborn!

Somehow, my dinner I managed to keep down

But I swore that I’d never return to that town!

 

Stephen Tomkins

1 April 2017

Sydney (not where I ate the Glop!)

 

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Trumpet

In the house that’s built upon a hill,

There lives a

Man for whom the truth’s a bitter pill.

And so he

Blurts out every thought within his mind

And hopes that

All of us will be deaf, dumb and blind.

 

He wants to claim our very heart and soul,

That makes the

Mind so very easy to control.

He doesn’t

Care much for an objective truth

And hungers

Night and day for his eternal youth.

 

If the language doesn’t suit his needs,

He’ll simply

Switch across and use the Twitter feeds,

And if his

Spin should ever be confused with lies,

Then watch him

Hint the doubters may be foreign spies.

 

If you don’t like what he wants to do,

Then maybe

Next election vote for someone true.

Of course that’s

If such a person really wants to run

Or else we’re

Stuck with fools whose brains are underdone.

 

Stephen Tomkins
1 November 2017
Perth

The Gift

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A lottery ticket’s of no use to me
Though a million or two would be nice.
For were I to win, it just wouldn’t be fair
Since luck would have favoured me twice.

What had I done to deserve my first win?
Nothing I know of, it’s true.
Taken for granted for so many years,
My prize I’ll now point out to you.

Born in Australia, to parents sincere,
They clothed, fed and raised me in peace.
How could I perceive my good fortune so young
When granted by chance or caprice?

If born somewhere else, of a different race,
Perhaps I would not have survived.
Instead, though I whine, take for granted my time,
Grateful, I should be, I thrived.

And though I’m still wary of those diff’rent to me,
To prejudge them, I have no right.
For I could so easily be where they are
And day would be unending night.

Stephen Tomkins
8 June 2017
Melbourne

Photo credit: nhlottery.com

 

The Department of Truth

You don’t know we exist
But, I gently insist,
We can change your whole view of the world.
We have been here for years,
With your hopes and your fears,
While our spin on the news is unfurled.

Through social media too,
We have been here for you,
So you’ll be in no doubt what to think.
We don’t want you to stress,
There’s no need for duress,
We can update your views in a blink.

Though our opinions we spread,
Once they’re seen, heard, or read,
They’re accepted by most to be fact.
And if you should disagree,
You’ll get no help from me,
With the Truth, I’ve long made a pact.

Stephen Tomkins
20 January 2017
Singapore

Lest We Forget

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Row upon row, the crosses stand,
An army on parade,
Tended now by gentler hand
‘Neath verdant palisade.

Like silent sentinels, the trees
Stand guard here day and night
Though now only the bees
And vengeful magpies keep the fight.

No Sergeant-Major’s voice is heard,
No bugle call to battle.
The sound of leaves, by breezes stirred,
The call of distant cattle.

Baptised by mud and blood and sweat,
They heard their country’s call.
Waved off by crowds who then forget
And never see them fall.

From battle’s fertile fields, they’re borne
With honour to this place.
That we’ve not learned their lesson
Means yet more will meet their fate.

Though the lucky ones return,
It’s clear they’re never quite the same.
They, too, have paid a heavy price
Despite the victory claim.

Stephen Tomkins
3 April 2017
Sydney

Photo credit:
journalstar.com

Brothers in Harm

In peacetime, I wouldn’t be seen dead with these others;
In wartime, I’d lay down my life for these brothers.
Not that long ago, we were mere babes-in-arms
Of mothers who saw nothing but for our charms.

Wherein lies the fault between enemy and friend?
Who must I kill and who should I defend?
Hatred is something not innate but learned –
A paradox when claiming “For peace we all yearn.”

At Boot Camp, they mould a most disparate group
Into a bonded and brotherly troop.
So, were you here then, you’d now be on my side,
But since you were not, I should kill you with pride.

Is the answer in language or your uniform?
Or maybe appearance or where you were born?
I’d rather not do this but since you’ll kill me,
I’ll kill in a heartbeat to keep us all free.

Stephen Tomkins
22 November 2016
Sydney

Red Balloon

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I float through the world like a big red balloon –

Drifting and dreaming and bumping along,

Borne on the currents of breeze and monsoon,

Collecting experiences, none right nor wrong.

Behind and below me, there trails my long string,

If you want my attention, then give it a tug,

But don’t get excited, I don’t plan a thing

‘Cause I live for the moment, a kiss or a hug.

If I’m floating off, you can drag me your way

And I’ll happily follow along for a while

Till a zephyr distracts me and I’m borne away.

But don’t be upset, I’ll depart with a smile.

The winds are so fickle, I may soon return

From brand new adventures with tall tales to tell.

At some point, perhaps, for a home I may yearn:

Only love will entice me off this carousel.

 

Stephen Tomkins
19 October 2016
Sydney

Photo credit:
Pinterest

Production Line

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Life’s factory conveyor-belt never will stop.
It races along and then suddenly drops,
Rolls under and hurries right back to the start –
To all things indifferent and lacking a heart.
We start when we land on the belt with a thump,
Well may we cry since from then on we jump.
Following orders as soon as we wake,
It’s chaos and frantic – no wonder we ache

To stop that betrayer-belt just for a while,
To regain our sanity, pause for a smile.
If in denial we didn’t persist,
The shadows we’re chasing would cease and desist.
And though the assayer-belt rolls on apace,
Reaching the end, we drop off without trace.
We only arrive there when our time is done,
Resistance is futile – it can’t be outrun!

Stephen Tomkins
15 November 2015
Perth

Arise!

Taken for granted and filled with misgiving,
Life is for loving, for living, forgiving.
Though, through the years, the bright lights may be dimming
And, at the end, all those tears may be brimming,
We still, day by day, live a life worth the struggle
Till the Reaper appears and, with love, bursts our bubble.
The choice, then, is ours: to choose life or demise.
‘Tis human to weep, but love bids us arise.

Stephen Tomkins
29 February 2016
Sydney