Tag Archives: appreciation

For Real

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“Please enter your password”
Said the words upon the screen,
Asking so politely, thus disguising
What they mean.

The goal? To induce panic
And to bring me close to stroke,
Neural paths collapsing
Causing me to start to choke!

Somehow, I type the right word
But the screen shows no compassion.
“Your password’s far too easy:
Passwords need upgraded fashion.

Create compliant password
Using letters, symbols, digits”.
So complex has it become,
I need those password widgets.

I start to breathe once more –
I feel a sense of great relief.
My password’s safe within the vault,
Or such was my belief.

To enter my new password,
I was horrified to learn,
I need another password,
As my brain begins to burn!

My online things are safe now,
Access so tightly controlled:
Even I cannot gain access.
I just feel so very old.

Stephen Tomkins
25 September 2025
Los Angeles

Aging Disgracefully

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First, I lost my wisdom teeth,
Thought that quite unfair.
Found I still could eat my lunch,
Guess I’d teeth to spare.

Next, my hair abandoned me,
Left me in despair,
Showed my head no loyalty,
Now my dome is bare.

Then, my waist expanded,
Or, perhaps, my belt had shrunk?
My pants joined the rebellion.
My resistance soon was sunk.

Quickly was the victory spread,
My few loyal hairs turned grey.
Restful sleep departed
As my bladder joined the fray.

Rising from a comfy chair
Became Olympic sport.
Sorry, I forgot your name,
My memory now is short.

My face tried to slide off my skull,
My chins applied the brakes.
Relief is mapped upon my face
In contours, roads, and lakes.

Where all this is headed,
I’m afraid I could not say.
So, I’ll get on with living,
Won’t let age get in my way!

Stephen Tomkins
Airborne (as a passenger) between Singapore and Sydney
16 August 2025

Recalibration

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Like leaves on the breeze,
The years rustle by
And a decade can pass
In the span of a sigh.
Seconds and minutes,
Licenceless, fly
And the passage of seasons
In the blink of an eye.

In a dense cloud of details
We all muddle through
And, despite good intentions,
Compelled to make do.
Immersed in our screens,
We will miss vital clues:
The Sun still illumines
Our Earth’s vibrant hues.

Then during our lunch break,
The years have passed by,
The kids have grown older
As friends say goodbye.
And those we love most,
Before they too fly,
Should be in no doubt
They’re the sun in our sky.

Stephen Tomkins
14 February 2025
Singapore

We Must Do Better

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Though a heart can feel full,
Sometimes it will ache.
Though a heart can seem strong,
At times it will break.
You check the news feed
And then shake your head:
For you life continues
But mine’s filled with dread.
You might join the protest,
Wave slogans and flags:
‘Midst words, bombs and bullets,
All hope for me sags.
You chat over lattes
About lame politicians,
While I do my best
To avoid demolition.
Self-righteousness rules,
It’s all us and them,
But unless hatred ends,
To repeat we’re condemned.

Stephen Tomkins
8 October 2024
Seoul

But It’s On Sale!

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Christmas may come
But once a year,
But, Oh my Lord!
It’s become very dear!
Though fiscally frugal
Right through the whole year
Yet, come Festive Season,
It’s all out the rear!

The plastic has melted
Through flagrant abuse.
The wallet’s been belted
By gross overuse.
The cash is depleted,
Though who uses cash?
All plans are unseated,
By purchases rash.

But it’s not yet December
And there’s friends to remember.
Though it’s years since you’ve seen them
So perhaps you don’t need them?
Still, Aunt Mary’s niece
Needs another nice piece
So, a Tiffany’s Breakfast
Is a financial Wreck Fest.

But when the Day’s here,
You can have a cold beer
And not think of the bill
‘Cause it will make you ill,
Since you’ve got a whole year
To escape from arrears
And your memory is short
Of the stuff that you’ve bought.

So, come next Festive Season,
You’ll find a good reason
‘Cause your heart may be leaning
To remember the meaning
And escape all the sadness
And the monetary madness
To enjoy Christmas cheer
With another cold beer!

What a Question!

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“Do you prefer flying at night or in the day?” the young Flight Attendant asked.

What a question!

“Definitely day. I prefer to sleep at night,” I promptly replied.

But there are consolations to flying at night. Constellations too.

The ancients must have had better eyes, better imaginations, to be able to form those figures in the sky. I can pick out Orion’s belt but the rest of him is obscure. The Southern Cross is pretty easy. Perhaps we have too many distractions.

What never fails to captivate me, though, is the full moon shining down on a carpet of indigo sea, shedding a trail of pewter below; visions of cities like sparkling gems strewn across an ebony blanket; picking my way through ghostly towers of cumulonimbus, lit from within and without by  daggers of brilliant platinum, piercing the darkness; entering some sort of time warp on moonless nights when we seem to sit motionless with only the changing cockpit displays to suggest any progress; and the gradual retreat of darkness as the sun emerges, boldly victorious, to herald a new day.

So perhaps I do prefer flying at night after all.

Stephen Tomkins
Hong Kong
13 March 2024

Keep It Real

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Despite wings and feathers,
Not all birds can fly.
And even in Springtime,
Warm breezes will sigh.
In our dreams, we can all
Swoop and soar way up high.
In our dreams, we can all
Tell the sweetest of lies.

But soon we will find
Our feet flat on the ground, and
A moment of insight
Can feel quite profound.
It’s then that we face
A most critical choice:
Return to our dreams
Or, in real life, rejoice.

Stephen Tomkins
21 June 2024
Hong Kong

Homelands Far From Home

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Young were they then.
Boys no more
But not yet men
When the drums of war,
Like Sirens’ song,
Swept up yearning hearts,
And the fear of missing out
Was all they feared
From homelands far from home.

Steeped in the lore
Of their fathers’ wars,
They could not fail
Their country’s call,
As over there and over here,
They sailed away on mothers’ tears
To homelands far from home.

A rugged game,
Or so it seemed,
Until their friends
Beside them fell,
And innocence
Was shed like blood
In the muck and mud
Of homelands far from home.

Those at home
The same remained,
And “over there”,
A glorious war reigned.
While in the trenches,
The boys, forever changed,
Still in their prime,
Old men became,
As endless ranks began
Their endless slumber
In homelands far from home.

And every year,
On that one day,
With pipes and drums,
We honour they
Who homeward came
But found no home.
And never will their hearts forget
Their comrades who still slumber yet
In homelands far from home.

Stephen Tomkins
Seoul
18 January 2024

In The Moment

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Bathed in the feeble light of dawn,
As night’s pervasive cloak is torn,
I surface from the sleepy deep,
Allow my consciousness to steep.

And in this tranquil, twilight state,
Where even Time seems forced to wait,
Content to know I simply am,
The world outside seems but a sham.

I know this peacefulness can’t last
And nets of everyday soon cast,
But in this moment, I am free
And nothing’s all I need to see.

Stephen Tomkins
Seoul
1 September 2023

Legal Spender

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With deep regret, I must advise –
Though tears still cloud my mournful eyes –
A friend we all hold close and dear
Has met untimely end, I fear.

Her wardrobe has no earthly equal –
Sad it seems, there’ll be no sequel –
Gold and silver, purples, browns,
Bold designs and regal crowns.

As legal tender, she may reign –
Though she’s been called by many names –
But who among us carries cash
(Though some still like to make a splash)?

A wave of plastic deems us flush –
Enough to make a tycoon blush –
We spend as if there’s no tomorrow,
But come month’s end, we’ll need to borrow.

And as rates rise beyond the skies –
And statements viewed with anxious sighs –
We may well rue the painful day
We changed the way we chose to pay.

Stephen Tomkins
6 October 2022
Perth