I Just Know!

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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

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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)

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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

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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

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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!

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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!

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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

Unintended Consequences

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candlestick

Jack not so nimble,

Jack not so quick.

Jack failed to clear the lit candlestick.

Awake and unconscious,

They both took their turns,

A most tender place for those third degree burns.

He’s now held together with pieces of wire

And sings boy soprano for St Michael’s choir.

 

Stephen Tomkins
2 March 2016
Sydney

 With apologies to children everywhere…

Photo credit:
http://www.buzzle.com
kizaz.com

bull-leaping

God Bless This Little Boat!

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Like ships, we’re launched into the world

Before we’re really ready.

The ground that we seek solace from

Is never truly steady.

And so we float as best we can

And try to make our way,

And even have a little fun

Before we’re drenched in spray.

Stephen Tomkins
19 January 2016
Sydney

Photo credit:
societbyofsponsorsofusn.org
http://www.photosearch.com

Resistance Is Futile

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sleep-deprived-workers

Slumber wakes inside her room,
Her soothing Siren song seducing,
Drawing me into the gloom,
The sweetest nothingness inducing.

Down into the void I fall,
Weightless in the inky dark.
It doesn’t frighten me at all –
Waiting for a dream to spark.

Once aflame, it rages on,
Sweeping me just where it will.
Abruptly, the inferno’s gone,
And, once again, the world is still.

Just how can sleep be so seductive,
Even when I do resist?
Succumb, I must, lest she’s destructive,
Ruling me with silken fist.

Stephen Tomkins
16 January 2016
Sydney

Photo credit:
lucien.uchicago.edu
sharperiron.org