Mosaic

antonioorsoni

Painstakingly picking up colourful shards,
Inspecting, selecting, rejecting discards,
The artist methodically adds a piece here:
An image mosaic begins to appear.

Each piece on its own is a part of the story
But in solitude, none can exhibit its glory.
A masterpiece made up of thousands of parts;
Until it’s complete, it conceals its true art.

Life’s a mosaic of abstract extremes,
A collation of seemingly disparate themes.
Ironically, milestones that make up a life
Are quite often those most connected with strife

Or oftentimes episodes most unexpected
While, elsewhere, our energies are most directed.
Out of life’s refuse, by hindsight extruded,
One’s mosaic image is finally concluded.

Stephen Tomkins
17 January 2015

Frequent Flyer

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My suitcase and I appear joined at the hip;
He loyally follows me on every trip.
When I turn around, I find he’s always there;
A most faithful companion since I pay his fare.
He carefully stows and transports all my things
On four little wheels as if carried by wings.

He never complains about being too tired
And by his consistency, I’ve been inspired.
I started recounting the deeds of the day
Even though, clearly, he’d little to say.
But when I began to invite him to lunch
My sweet darling wife promptly gave me a punch!

All had been fine until this latest trip;
I started to feel I was losing my grip.
I was telling him red was much better than black,
It was then that I realised that I’d finally cracked!
He answered me back in a deep muffled voice
And fondly advised that I’d made a good choice!

My life was unravelling quickly from there –
At home, he would sit in my wife’s favourite chair.
Despite her entreaties, I thought her unfair –
My luggage obsession soon brought her despair.
I’m writing this now from my warm padded cell;
The doctors assure me that all will be well!

Stephen Tomkins
27 August 2014

I Just Wanted a Drink!

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Yet another busy morning
And the sun had finished dawning
When I started craving iced mocha frappe.
So I hurried down the street,
Looking forward to a treat
As I headed to a trendy local cafe.

So I went right on inside
And then managed to collide
With a waitress and a tray of hot coffee.
The coffee hit the ground,
In the cafe not a sound,
But the floor was now brown and kind of frothy.

“I’m so sorry!” is what I said,
With a face gone very red,
Adding, “Now please let me buy another round.”
The waitress rolled her eyes,
With accompanying sighs,
And her next few words were really quite profound:

“A Keira Knightley for the man,
Whoopi Goldberg and a flan
For the lady over there by the window.
Michael Jordan, Al Pacino
For the guys both wearing chinos,
And another for the guy who brought his pillow!”

I was stunned and in a daze,
Wilting underneath her gaze,
So whipped out my credit card to make the payment.
I quickly then sat down,
She approached me with a frown;
Of her time, you see, I’m now another claimant.

“Please upon me now take pity:
I’ve not understood the ditty
That you used just now to place the coffee order.”
She rolled her eyes again,
And with paper and a pen,
Tried to pacify my mind from its disorder.

“Skinny, flat white’s Keira Knightley,
And now hold on very tightly,
‘Cos a Michael Jordan’s clearly a long black.
Cappuccino is guess who?
Black, none’s easy, even you!
Whoopi Goldberg has the quick wit that you lack!”

To my senses, I came later,
And somehow managed to date her;
On her pretty face I sometimes see such pain.
‘Cos I guess by now you know
That my brain’s a little slow:
All her jokes she has to take time to explain!

Stephen Tomkins
3 January 2015

Mighty Otis!

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Mighty Otis! God of Lifts!
By your power, we skywards shift.
To office workers, you’re a gift!
Daily we give thanks!

Inside your halls, we press your numbers,
Lighting up, we still can slumber.
Without you, up the stairs we’d lumber,
Puffing, sweating ranks!

Once inside, we face your altar.
Auto-doors will never falter.
If they did, stay calm we oughta!
‘Long as we stay up!

Safe at work, we do ignore you.
Secretly, we do adore you.
Come knock-off time, we do implore you:
Please to hurry up!

Down the shaft, we start to plummet,
Falling quickly from the summit,
Trying hard now not to vomit!
Where’d my stomach go?

Ensconced inside your cage we fall.
At every floor we seem to call.
There’s no room left here for you all!
A-waiting you must go!

Safe at ground, there’s disbelief:
Once more, we’ve avoided grief.
Thank you, Otis! Sweet relief!
Homeward we can go!

Mighty Otis! You’re the best!
Way ahead of all the rest!
Schindler’s lift can’t pass your test!
Daily we give thanks!

Stephen Tomkins
2 April 2014

(Note: To avoid confusion, Otis and Schindler are two manufacturers of elevators or lifts.)

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Ocean View

93. Heavy seas at dusk, Imperial Beach, CA-L

Wave after wave, the invasion continues,
Pounding the shore with ephemeral sinews.
Unceasing, the aqueous army advances;
Observing, it’s clear that the whole thing entrances.

The beach battles on in it’s own unique way,
Seemingly letting the sea win the day.
An unlikely defence is so expertly mounted
By armies of sand, in their legions uncounted.

Invaders advance and retreat once again;
The battle continues, a war without end.
A paradox of tumult that somehow brings peace,
A meeting of foes world-renowned for caprice.

Much has been said about maritime moods:
One day she sleeps and the next day she broods.
Perpetual motion, a palette unbounded,
Don’t turn your back or you may just get pounded!

All through the day and then late at night
The sea’s roar continues, but now out of sight.
At some point, the wind’s airy music crescendoes,
Battering huts with tin roofs and small windows.

Transient humans, the sea will remain
Completely unmoved by our joy and our pain.
Her riches we harvest but never can tame
Poseidon unchanging but never the same.

Some say she’s moody but I disagree:
There’s never been artwork that’s quite like the sea!
With every whitecap and every hue,
A masterful canvas no human could do!

Stephen Tomkins
18 December 2014

The Duck

In the widow, hanging down
Was a duck: crisp, golden brown,
With the others hanging round.
How’s your day today?

No more trouble, no more strife,
No more toil and no more wife,
No more family, no more life,
How’s your day today?

On the farm where pigs were suckling,
He was then a fuzzy duckling.
Life was sweet, his Mama’s darling.
How’s your day today?

Fuzz now gone, his fine new down,
Like a stunning regal gown,
Cloaked the king without a crown.
How’s your day today?

He worked hard and built a nest.
His new wife thought him the best.
Three fine eggs were soon their guest.
How’s your day today?

Swiftly, summer days were gone.
Ducklings, too, were moving on.
Youth’s bright beams no longer shone.
How’s your day today?

Sadly nothing but illusion,
All this just a sweet delusion,
‘Midst hunting season’s raw confusion,
Life just ebbs away.

“Why?” you ask. “Why tell this tale?”
Swiftly through this earthly vale
Life sweeps past so fine and frail, so
Cherish your day today.

Stephen Tomkins
26 June 2014

My Digital World

All through the day and then the night
I downloaded a megabyte.
“A megabyte?” I hear you say
And shake your head in sad dismay.
“You must have gotten more than that!”
And so I would but for my cat.

She frequently attacks the mouse
And drags my Mac around the house,
Through the halls and down the stairs,
Over books and under chairs.

Despite the damage caused by this,
The keyboard is her place of bliss,
And there she likes to sleep and purr
While excess downloads, I incur.

I scratch my head and then disable
Wifi modem and the cable.
Sadly, though, I soon forget
The 3G network and my pet.

In haste, I call my ISP,
With phone in hand and cup of tea.
Naturally, though, I’m put on hold
And sitting there, it soon grows cold.

I start to laugh and soon feel better
And decide I’d rather send a letter.

Stephen Tomkins
3 March 2014

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My cat, Mia. She’s not as innocent as she looks!