So, How Are You?

 

She sat alone on a seat at the bar,

Her legs crossed and rhythmically swinging.

She glanced one more time her watch and then jumped,

As the phone in her hand started ringing.

 

The radiant smile on her face lit the room,

A snapshot of ecstasy captured.

But nothing remains the same for too long,

Especially a moment enraptured.

 

Her face then fell with an audible crack,

The phone became quite unstable.

The tears welled up and spilled down her crushed face

And formed a small pool on the table.

 

How quickly a world can change for someone,

Without warning or solace or season.

The fool who now seems a bit short on the phone

May just have a very good reason.

 

Stephen Tomkins
21 June 2016
Sydney

photo credit: 2.bp.blogspot.com

Hail the King!

He knows what is what

And he knows who is who

And, if you’re not careful,

He’ll do who to you!

‘Cos by putting you down

He can build himself up

So he’ll offer a refill

From his poisoned cup.

 

He walks down the hallway

All strutty and cool.

It’s clear to all passing

He’s nobody’s fool.

Opinions don’t matter

When he is around –

Each word that he utters

Is clearly profound.

 

But past castle parapet

And his thick walls,

Behind the array

Of his huge cannon balls,

Enter the Throne room

And you’ll find the King –

He’s just a lost boy

And not wearing a thing!

 

Stephen Tomkins
5 October 2016
Perth

Bourbon Dolphin

bourbon-dolphin5

Mum said when I turned fourteen years,
She’d put aside maternal fears
And I could go to work with Dad –
My dream, a dream so long I’ve had.
My Dad’s the Captain of a ship,
And I’m to go on his next trip.
Excited? Yes! You bet I am!
At last I feel just like a man!

Dad’s ship supports the North Sea rigs:
Supplies them, moves them, helps them dig.
He shows me the survival suits,
All in one piece, complete with boots.
We check the vests and radio;
The lines are in! Away we go!
I’m so excited I could burst;
Mum always seems to fear the worst!

Soon a massive chain’s aboard
And, on the bridge, no one is bored!
The work continues through the night.
By late next day something’s not right.
The ship tilts sharply to the left,
Then rights itself –  we all draw breath.
Suddenly, it’s on its side,
I’m on my back and terrified.

The ship continues over now,
We’re on the bridge but upside down!
Dad pulls me close and hugs me tight
And says it all will be alright.
The water takes my breath away –
It has such force, we can but pray.
The last thing that I ever hear
Is Dad’s love whispered in my ear.

Stephen Tomkins
23 December 2016
Perth

Author’s note: On April 12, 2007, the Bourbon Dolphin, an Anchor Handling Tug Supply Vessel, capsized while working in the North Sea. The ship sank three days later. Aboard were Captain Oddne Remøy and his fourteen-year-old son, David, who was on work experience. They were among the eight persons who lost their lives that day.

While based on media coverage of the event and the official accident report, the above is a fictitious account of what may have happened. Above all, this poem is a tribute to those who lost their lives.

Ocean Voyage

Buoyant and beautiful, fragile and fraught,

A life floats on by, it’s yours to be caught.

Focus we can on disasters in store

And stay tied up tight still secure on the shore.

Or venture instead on the unyielding sea

And batten the hatches, but just as needs be

Lest on bright sunny days when there’s nary a swell,

We, in our imaginings, live still in hell.

Storms we’ll encounter, we know that for sure,

But wipe off the salt and then come back for more.

The storms are essential: they help us to see

The days in between for the joy they can be.

 

Stephen Tomkins
24 August 2016
Melbourne

Was I Ever Really Here?

I fixed up the mess that’s my side of the bed,
Including the dent that was left by my head.
But when she wakes up, it will seem just as though
No one had slept there.

In the food court, I sat down and ate
And when I was done, I then packed up my plate.
So when I walked out it was really as though
No one had been there.

From what was my desk, I cleaned out my stuff
Even wiping off the dust and the fluff.
Come Monday, it will be just as though
No one had worked there.

So, one day, when cross the river I go,
And though for a few, it may be a blow,
But when they look back, will it be as though
I’d never been there?

Stephen Tomkins
23 June 2016
Sydney

Carpe Diem (Seize the Day)

Take some time now while you can,
As living woman, living man,
Because a life is all too brief,
And left unsaid, we, in our grief,
Cling on to things that were not meant
And said in haste before they went.

Rather, choose now, while you may,
To say all that you need, I pray.
Defer not till tomorrow since
(And though I fear I’ll make you wince)
For you, tomorrow may not come
But time to rue things left undone.

Stephen Tomkins
22 July 2016
Hong Kong

 

 

 

Winter Is Cool

large_img_0101

Cutting his losses, the Sun quits the fight
As his silvery glow soon gives way to black Night.
Mercury sinks to his bulb and hides there
And wintery Cold, now, her triumph declares.

Yet born of the harshness of this icy void,
Like debris from the death of some meteoroid,
The delicate crystals drift down from the Sky
Though she’s no longer seen by the sensitive eye.

The tentative Snowflakes send down a few scouts
Then an increasing flood as if pouring from spouts.
They all look the same but, on examination,
Are each one unique and a fine revelation.

Though we complain, we seem drawn to the Snow,
Maybe, deep down, it’s because we all know
That outward appearance is pleasant enough,
But oftentimes that can be merely a bluff.

Stephen Tomkins
4 June 2016
Singapore

 A strange place to be thinking about snow!

Photo credit:
http://www.travellerspoint.com

I Love Traffic

In silken threads of silver hue,
The clouds drift by as if to view
The chaos raging here below
As to and fro we madly go,
Changing lanes with gritted teeth
And miss by inches sudden grief
To save a second, maybe two
And meet again just down the queue.
Perhaps we should just take a breath?
It’s better than an on-time death.

Stephen Tomkins
21 June 2016
Sydney

Freshly Squeezed

Squeeze an orange, leave behind
A fragrant shell of pulp and rind.
Life’s pulping plant achieves the same
As juice pours swiftly down the drain.
It seems there is no fragrance left,
This cheerless world is life bereft.
And, sucked inside our vacuum phones,
Together, we’re all here alone.

Stephen Tomkins
20 May 2016
Sydney

Play Nicely with the Other Children

A new preschool recently opened across the road from me. Thinking about enrolling my youngest child, I asked if I could sit in for a morning to see if I would be comfortable leaving my son there. “Sure”, came the ready reply from the professional-looking Principal.

Over the next hour or so, the place filled up quickly with bright-eyed two- to five-year-olds. The first formal activity was Show and Tell. This will be illuminating, thought I.

Maria was the first to stand. “I brought in a set of Daddy’s old knuckles”, she said, proudly displaying a worn set of knuckle-dusters.

“Aren’t they illegal?” I murmured to the teacher.

“No. They’re ok in this State,” she replied. “She’s not going to use them anyway….”

Next was Alphonse. I thought my surprise for the day had passed. I was wrong. Three-year-old Alphonse whipped out a hunting knife, beaming from ear to ear.

“Isn’t that…..” I began.

“No. It’s ok in this State. He’s hardly likely to use it on anyone, though, is he?” she countered.

I gave her a very doubtful look which she happily ignored.

Miriam now took centre stage with her Grandfather’s Luger which, she proudly informed us, he had taken from a dead German officer during the war.

I cautiously rose to my feet.

“Don’t worry”, said the teacher, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “It’s so old I doubt it even works. In any case, guns don’t kill, people do. And Miriam doesn’t look like a killer, does she?”

Miriam gave me a disarming smile.

“I suppose…”

“That’s nothing,” boomed little Joshua, as he staggered to the front, desperately trying to carry an M-16 assault rifle.

“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed.

The teacher could see where I was heading and cut me off. “They are perfectly legal in this State!” she pronounced. “And we do insist on the standard magazines rather than the oversize ones. Anyway, guns don’t…”

“I know, I know,” I replied.

For some reason, I was not feeling particularly comfortable at the thought of my three-year-old immersed in such a culture.

I lay awake that night trying to make sense of it all. Suddenly, it was all crystal clear: fists don’t punch – people do. Knives don’t stab – people do. Guns don’t kill – people do. Nuclear weapons don’t destroy the planet for centuries to come – people do. The solution is simple – ban people!

Not me, of course, I’m perfectly rational. If you disagree with that, then you clearly have a problem. So, I’m afraid, you will be banned.

 

Stephen Tomkins

19 July 2016

Sydney