Though we try to understand,
The flowers say it best:
A life in full-bloom plucked away
And hastened to its rest.
Straining to articulate,
In vain we seek a voice.
So, we resort to hugs and tears,
As if we had a choice.
To void the Reaper’s deathly grin,
We focus on a life –
Thankful for a life well-lived,
It still cuts like a knife.
Stephen Tomkins
11 September 2018
Sydney
I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine –
Lived that way, life would be fine.
But sadly, that’s not how it works
Though that could be one of life’s sweet perks.
We view each other with grim suspicion,
Relying on some weird intuition.
Instead of giving each other a chance,
We engage in some kind of deadly dance.
You know, we might just be surprised,
Our neighbourly opinion might be revised.
We might find ourselves a brand-new friend –
One on whom we can depend.
And isn’t that what we truly seek,
As from behind our wall we peek?
Lower the drawbridge, the portcullis raise.
Watch the sun break through the haze.
Stephen Tomkins
26 July 2018
Sydney
When you’re down and feeling low,
When life deals you a savage blow,
You know you can depend on me –
My services are all for free.
Just call my name and I’ll be there.
So, you’ll never need despair.
But please don’t call when I’m at work –
My boss would simply go berserk!
And once I get the kids to bed,
(Their baths all done, their stories read)
As long as you live in my town,
You can be sure I’ll be around!
I’m sorry I can’t linger long.
For though your sorrow may be strong,
Tomorrow I’ve an early start –
Let’s quickly mend your broken heart.
And though I seem a part-time friend,
At least my selfie can attend.
Stephen Tomkins
2 April 2018
Perth
On New Year’s Eve
We celebrate,
Our vocal cords
We lubricate.
On New Year’s Day
We hibernate
And, when we rise,
We medicate.
And so begins
A brand-new year,
Awash with wine
And kegs of beer.
It’s like we want
To purge the stain
Of every previous
New Year’s pain.
Fireworks
There may well be,
Though if we
Could truly see,
We’d understand
A year’s not new
Unless there’s change
In me and you.
Stephen Tomkins
12 February 2018
Shanghai
“It’s just a book!” he spat at me,
Contempt dripped from his eyes.
Appalled I was as I looked back,
No words would come but sighs.
I wanted to explain to him
The pages and the binding
Are nothing but a neat disguise
For a universe in hiding.
Like a magic carpet, let the words
Convey you to a world
Unique to every reader
As its secrets are unfurled.
And at the end, if you
Should feel a tear or two descending,
Let no one else convince you
That your manhood here is ending.
If touched you’ve been or moved
Or felt some kind of revelation,
You’ll know your heart is still unharmed
By life’s great conflagration.
Stephen Tomkins
13 May 2017
Jakarta
“I think you’ve lost weight,”
Said Glitter to Gold,
Though she thought to herself,
“It’s just made you look old”.
“Why, thank you so much!”
Said the nugget to Glitter.
“I’ve been working out”.
She was clearly no quitter.
“Your sparkle is sparkling,
Now, brighter than ever”,
A quip that the Gold
Thought remarkably clever.
For Glitter had clearly
Been working out, too,
But Gold was too
Selfish to focus on you.
For even a cursory
Glance would have shown
That Glitter belonged now
On some crystal throne.
To Fairy Dust, Glitter
Had morphed while in bed
While Gold had transformed
Overnight into lead.
Stephen Tomkins
4 July 2017
Jakarta
They tell me that I am alive.
They tell me that I’m fit to drive,
That maybe I should send a text,
That in the phone queue I’ll be next.
They say that this is good for me,
That I should go and hug a tree,
That I should watch this TV show,
That, really, I should up and go.
This special will not last for long,
That I should buy this brand new song,
That nothing’s right and nothing’s wrong.
Ignore the weak and laud the strong.
They tell me all I ought to do:
‘But to your own self remain true.’
So who’d have thought I’d come to dread
The voices raging in my head?
For God’s sake turn the volume down
Lest the voices bid me drown!
So for myself, perhaps, I’ll think
And drag myself back from the brink.
Stephen Tomkins
20 October 2016
Sydney
“People make you happy” said the Wise Man once to me.
“Things create more problems, always was and thus shall be.”
Profound, prophetic words spoke he – at least that’s what I thought,
But as my life progressed, I found that wisdom came to nought.
Things are neither good nor bad, it’s what we use them for:
They can be used to kill or to relieve a tiresome chore.
People, on the other hand, are often good and bad
And very often people are the ones who make you sad.
Things will either work or not and sometimes seem capricious
And, though sometimes they’ll drive us mad, they never are malicious.
People kill and people steal and people lie and cheat,
And peoples sometimes treat you like you’re just a slab of meat.
Yet people are the ones who can give life its greatest meaning;
So confused am I that I’m not sure which way I’m leaning.
But if you have been blessed and found good people in your life,
Then look for nothing more, my friend, you’ll only find more strife.
Stephen Tomkins
6 March 2017
Perth
Photo credit: happy face AdobeStock_65597478 2017
When darkness falls
Although the sun shines brightly,
When troubles come
And weigh my spirit down,
Then I recall
You wait there in the silence.
I turn the tap
And watch relief rain down.
Your steaming jets
Will wash away my anger,
Your clouds of steam
Revive my weary dreams.
I linger long
Despite the drought impending
And my wife’s
Shrill icy shower screams.
I once was strong
But now am pleasant-smelling,
My hair was lank
And shines now like the sun.
If we could dwell
Forever in your torrents,
I guess our work
Would never be begun.
Your gentle rain
Lifts away my burdens,
Your soothing splash
Erases all my fears.
I need no more
To drink away my sorrows,
The water flows
Although I’m in arrears.
Stephen Tomkins
19 May 2017
Singapore
If desired, can also be sung to the tune of “You Raise Me Up”, sung by Josh Groban et al.
Photo credit: baychoicebariatrics.com
Seeing myself quite so dead on the bed
Has certainly changed my perspective.
“Take care of your health” is what I’d always said,
But it turns out my heart was defective.
It’s a little too late for such drastic resorts,
Still they zapped me with 10,000 volts.
Though I’m grateful they’re thinking such positive thoughts,
I’m now just a bucket of bolts.
“Death comes to us all” as old sayings contend
Though he shows us such open contempt.
Some struggle and fight making bitter their end
As if fighting will make them exempt.
Now, I must say farewell as I start to ascend –
I’ll soon have such stories to tell.
A cool summer breeze whispers, “Welcome, old friend”,
So I feel now that all will be well.
Stephen Tomkins
25 June 2017
Hong Kong
