Rain is falling, sky is grey.
Normally, I love the rain
But today the sky is crying
As it tries to ease my pain.
Respectfully, the sun remains
Discretely distant, as a friend.
The clouds descend and kiss the ground –
It’s raining in my soul again.
Taking refuge in my room,
There’s not much more I have to say.
The world continues unconcerned –
I think I’ll skip it for today.
Stephen Tomkins
12 June 2020
Sydney
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
The fragile petals now will fall.
The leaves, of course, fell first of all.
And through it all she sits there still,
Living yet, against her will.
Her husband bravely does his best,
Including now a feeble jest.
She cried and cried, her tears now dried,
Since the day her baby died.
If only this, if I’d done that,
The self-destructive mental chat
Continues on inside her head
And fills her husband with such dread.
He prays she simply needs more time
To learn to deal with such a crime.
For now, he mourns not one but two:
The baby’s one, his wife now too.
Stephen Tomkins
14 January 2017
Sydney
There once was a heart, a very fine heart
With ventricles, valves and vessels,
Suspended in air and securely held there
By membranes, magic and muscles.
Open to all, at their sweet beck and call,
Its loving dimensions immense.
Defenceless, unmoving, its beating so soothing,
Without the least shred if pretence.
The wolves were soon out, in their cruelty devout,
With gnashing and slashing at whim.
Bloodied and bruised, the heart feeling quite used,
With its luminous insight now dim.
It just goes to show, as the days come and go,
Why a good heart is so hard to find.
In spite of it all, and when you hit the wall,
Just remember it’s all in the mind.
Stephen Tomkins
9 January 2016
Singapore
Photo credit:
http://www.cmoney.tw
Arrive at airport, cap in hand.
My bags are packed, my travel planned.
“Oh! The glamour!” you may think
But I’ll be treated like I stink!
As airline staff on cheap staff travel,
All careful plans will now unravel.
So I approach the hallowed desk
Where staff may check-in at their risk.
Like an insect, I am viewed
And told to wait in voices rude.
In holding pen, we congregate
And hopefully await our fate.
In muted tones, we quiz each other
And try obliquely to discover
Just where we fit into the list –
My category must be higher than this!
At last they start to call some names,
And so begin the churlish games.
Those lucky few will get on board,
The rest of us will sit here, bored.
Like music to my weary ears,
I hear my name as chaos clears.
They take my bag, give me a pass,
And tell me, “Move your bloody arse!”
I sprint now to the Customs queue.
Amidst the throng, I wrestle through.
On my watch, I check the time –
My God! How long’s this frappin’ line!
Finally, I get on board,
Wedged between two giants! Lord!
So strong the scent of garlic is,
There’ll be no vampires here for years!
I’ll need no seatbelt come what may:
Restrained by blubber, I will stay.
Come meal-time, there’ll be nothing left.
Cheap travel is a wondrous gift!
Stephen Tomkins
7 January 2016
Sydney
Photo credits:
http://www.businessworldtravel.com
theegyptiantraveler.blogspot.com
acollectionofmusings.wordpress.com
You look into my haunted eyes
Which represent my failed disguise,
And, though you try to see inside,
I can’t let go my childish pride.
You sit and hold me for a while
As, desperately, I feign a smile.
But I’m a man! I don’t need you!
Even though I know that’s so untrue.
And so, each day I will resist
The help I need as I persist
To fabricate my mask anew –
The one I know that you see through.
At last I can’t hold back the tide,
As down my face the torrents slide.
And now I have to make a choice:
Succumb or give my fears a voice.
In seeking help, I gained relief
And learned there’s life beyond my grief.
But though the rain will sometimes fall,
It’s ceased to be a prison wall.
Stephen Tomkins
Perth
29 October 2015
Pondering Poet Pilot 