Category Archives: poetry

Morning Commute

Posted on by
Reply

My bus is late! My bus is late! It’s time to hyperventilate! 

Consult my watch and scan the phone, 

At least I’m not left here alone!

I see the trees! I see the stars!

I see the lights of passing cars!

My face is tingling! Vision blurred!

The ground is tilting – how absurd!

A face appears ‘midst flashing light,

And now I’m floating in the night!

I float right into private bus

And off we go! Oh, what a fuss!

Now there’s bright lights here and a crowd,

Pushing, pulling, shouting loud!

It seems I’m passing every test,

Then they declare I just need rest!

So, this will teach that nasty bus!

I mean – who can you really trust?

Buses, trains, they’re all the same!

At least I’ve got someone to blame!


Stephen Tomkins

23 March 2016

Sydney 

This Humble Bean

Posted on by
Reply

IMG_0742

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

You Just Never Know

Posted on by
Reply

First we’re happy, then we’re not,
And then we’re somewhere in between.
Start out well and then we turn,
And soon we are the colour green.
We think we’ll reach a blissful state
And there we will remain
But fail to realise, all the while,
It’s just a silly game.
The only thing that’s certain
Is that everything will change.
So relish where you are right now
Before it all turns strange.

Stephen Tomkins
15 January 2016
Sydney

I Just Know!

Posted on by
Reply

There’s many things I know I know,
And many things I know I don’t,
Many things one day I may know,
Then there’s those I probably won’t.

How can I know that what I know
Is something more than mere opinion?
Just ‘cause Google told me so,
Or am I culture’s servile minion?

Seems there are objective facts
And some things are just black and white.
Proven facts or artefacts?
Which is wrong and which is right?

Maybe it comes down to faith:
I have to trust that someone knows.
Prove all things myself? No way!
It’s easier to trust and doze!

Stephen Tomkins
17 January 2016
Sydney

A Collision of Kinds

Posted on by
Reply

A raindrop dives into the pond,
Merging there ‘neath leafy fronds.
The only trace he leaves behind
Is perfect circles so designed
To spread his impact ever wider,
Fruit of this one moist collider.
Losing self amidst his brothers,
A kind of freedom he discovers.
Ceasing focus on himself,
Contributes to the commonwealth.
Dying, then, he’s most alive,
It’s only then that he can thrive.

Stephen Tomkins
16 January 2016
Singapore

Adrift (On The Sea of Regret)

Posted on by
Reply

1419805001908

My stomach is full though I’ve not eaten yet;
I’ve just launched myself on the Sea of Regret.
I’m sickened and saddened and sorry to boot:
There’s no one to blame for this dark attribute.
And though I’m not sure how I followed this path,
I’m floating alone on this flimsy old raft.
The sea is unfriendly, the night is pitch black,
I really don’t know if I’ll find my way back.

Yet off in the distance, I glimpse a dim light –
It’s just what I need in my desperate plight.
For just when I felt like I might pull the plug,
I find myself wrapped in a comforting hug.
I suddenly find myself back on the shore,
The sea disappears with one last mighty roar.
I’m so undeserving of someone like you
But if your love sustains me, I might just pull through.

Stephen Tomkins
17 February 2016
Sydney

Photo credit:
www.smh.com.au

Check-Mate

Posted on by
Reply

I am a tradie-person, as cool as cool can be:
My plumber’s crack is round the back, just where a crack should be.
I jump into my tradie-ute, ‘cause bigger’s so much better,
(Despite the freezing cold outside, I’d never wear a sweater!)
Consult my phone and, all alone, reschedule everything.
I’m breaking all my promises. See? That’s the tradie-thing.

I’m racing down the highway now, ignoring all the signs,
‘Cause racing’s what we tradies do yet somehow get no fines.
“Yes, I can fix all that for you, the price is (quite outrageous)”.
Enthusiasm level now, for cash, is quite contagious!
“I’ll see you maybe late next week” and lucky you will be.
You’d better do the job yourself – I’ll tell you that for free!

Stephen Tomkins
22 March 2016
Sydney

Prison Bus

Posted on by
Reply

images-2

Off to work once again, the pre-dawn steely grey.
Off to work once again, like the rest, need my pay.
We Prison Bus inmates, united, we sway
As, to God-in-the-screen, those awake seem to pray.

The colourful ladies and dull, greyish men,
Our routine repeating all over again.
Brothers-in-arms and our Sisters here too,
We still have no clue just who’s who in the zoo.

The gun-metal sky has now melted away
As delicate blues and pinks welcome the day.
No bars on the windows, unnumbered my shirt,
It’s only my outlook I need to convert.

IMG_1571

The scene that inspired the poem, taken on my iPhone.

Stephen Tomkins
2 March 2016
Sydney

Prison bus photo credit:
istockphoto.com

Arise!

Posted on by
Reply

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

I’m Not Crazy!

Posted on by
Reply

Insanity runs in my family,

The author of constant calamity.

He sped to my sister

And tenderly kissed her,

And then rushed over to me.

 

Detected in me fertile ground

And smiled at the treasure he’d found.

As he messed with my head,

I retreated to bed –

To this day, that’s where I’ll be found.

 

Stephen Tomkins

15 February 2016

Perth