This Humble Bean

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This humble little Bean, untouched by human hands,
Growing unmolested in the soil of distant lands.
Valued more than dollars, pounds and even life itself,
It doesn’t linger long upon the tree or café shelf.

Its devotees may contemplate the meaning of the Bean
In sample-selling salons here and there and in between.
A life spent in such contemplation, surely, is well spent.
Ten dollars for a cup of Joe? Yep! It’s worth every cent!

Pulling, pressing, percolating – don’t care how it’s done!
I need a double shot right now – I’ll take it on the run!
Who cares about the price of oil or gold or other things?
What matters is the warming buzz and joy that coffee brings!

Stephen Tomkins
22 March 2016
Sydney

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With a View To Breakfast

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Motionless ships set on sparkling jewels,
Brilliant-cut diamonds in deep azure pools.
Closer to shore, the worshippers bathe
As the Sun-God ascends over white sand and wave.
And framing it all, as if by design,
A towering pair of lush Norfolk Pines,
Their branches and finger-like leaves reach above,
Beseeching the Sun-God for life-giving love.
Removed from it all, by a clear glassy wall,
Sit I, like a scientist, cold yet in thrall
Of a view unexpected and perfect, serene,
Hypnotic reliever of stress, evergreen.

Stephen Tomkins
21 January 2016
Wollongong

Photo credits:
retaillawadvisor.com.au
secrets magazine.com.au

 

Sorry For Being Born

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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!

JHJ

Stephen Tomkins
7 January 2016
Sydney

Photo credits:

http://www.businessworldtravel.com
theegyptiantraveler.blogspot.com
acollectionofmusings.wordpress.com

Holiday Cheer (or The Throne of Regret)

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Last week (don’t you see?) at a quarter past three,
A solemn fridge-opening took place.
He stood there and looked, at the things raw and cooked,
With the blankest of looks on his face.

His arms stretched out wide, open doors at his side,
Silent, expectant, oblivious.
And yet, all the while, despite “MAX” on the dial,
The temperature crept up – quite insidious!

Having waited some time, in this unmoving mime,
Hoping something’d jump out for his meal,
He started to cough, as the food – it went off,
And his fate, in the end, he did seal.

Though the food tasted weird, and congealed on his beard,
His hunger outvoted his sense.
As the Holidays went, he began his descent,
In the bathroom, he made recompense!

Stephen Tomkins
3 January 2016
Sydney