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
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
There once was a heart, a very fine heart
With ventricles, valves and vessels,
Suspended in air and securely held there
By membranes, magic and muscles.
Open to all, at their sweet beck and call,
Its loving dimensions immense.
Defenceless, unmoving, its beating so soothing,
Without the least shred if pretence.
The wolves were soon out, in their cruelty devout,
With gnashing and slashing at whim.
Bloodied and bruised, the heart feeling quite used,
With its luminous insight now dim.
It just goes to show, as the days come and go,
Why a good heart is so hard to find.
In spite of it all, and when you hit the wall,
Just remember it’s all in the mind.
Stephen Tomkins
9 January 2016
Singapore
Photo credit:
http://www.cmoney.tw
Motionless ships set on sparkling jewels,
Brilliant-cut diamonds in deep azure pools.
Closer to shore, the worshippers bathe
As the Sun-God ascends over white sand and wave.
And framing it all, as if by design,
A towering pair of lush Norfolk Pines,
Their branches and finger-like leaves reach above,
Beseeching the Sun-God for life-giving love.
Removed from it all, by a clear glassy wall,
Sit I, like a scientist, cold yet in thrall
Of a view unexpected and perfect, serene,
Hypnotic reliever of stress, evergreen.
Stephen Tomkins
21 January 2016
Wollongong
Photo credits:
retaillawadvisor.com.au
secrets magazine.com.au
Arrive at airport, cap in hand.
My bags are packed, my travel planned.
“Oh! The glamour!” you may think
But I’ll be treated like I stink!
As airline staff on cheap staff travel,
All careful plans will now unravel.
So I approach the hallowed desk
Where staff may check-in at their risk.
Like an insect, I am viewed
And told to wait in voices rude.
In holding pen, we congregate
And hopefully await our fate.
In muted tones, we quiz each other
And try obliquely to discover
Just where we fit into the list –
My category must be higher than this!
At last they start to call some names,
And so begin the churlish games.
Those lucky few will get on board,
The rest of us will sit here, bored.
Like music to my weary ears,
I hear my name as chaos clears.
They take my bag, give me a pass,
And tell me, “Move your bloody arse!”
I sprint now to the Customs queue.
Amidst the throng, I wrestle through.
On my watch, I check the time –
My God! How long’s this frappin’ line!
Finally, I get on board,
Wedged between two giants! Lord!
So strong the scent of garlic is,
There’ll be no vampires here for years!
I’ll need no seatbelt come what may:
Restrained by blubber, I will stay.
Come meal-time, there’ll be nothing left.
Cheap travel is a wondrous gift!
Stephen Tomkins
7 January 2016
Sydney
Photo credits:
http://www.businessworldtravel.com
theegyptiantraveler.blogspot.com
acollectionofmusings.wordpress.com
Doubters may just doubt and the haters may just hate,
But if you don’t get this right, I may have to litigate.
Excuses can be made and those waivers may be signed,
And legal advocation I may even have declined.
But now I have a lawyer and a famous one at that,
So if you don’t settle soon, we’ll do more than have a chat.
The High Court’s now the venue and it shouldn’t take too long:
You see, it really doesn’t matter whether you’ve been in the wrong,
‘Cos my lawyer’s a performer and she charges by the minute
So I may just be the loser even if my side should win it!
Stephen Tomkins
22 December 2015
Sydney
Photo Credits:
http://www.jobdescription101.com
www.criminallawyers.com.au
Last week (don’t you see?) at a quarter past three,
A solemn fridge-opening took place.
He stood there and looked, at the things raw and cooked,
With the blankest of looks on his face.
His arms stretched out wide, open doors at his side,
Silent, expectant, oblivious.
And yet, all the while, despite “MAX” on the dial,
The temperature crept up – quite insidious!
Having waited some time, in this unmoving mime,
Hoping something’d jump out for his meal,
He started to cough, as the food – it went off,
And his fate, in the end, he did seal.
Though the food tasted weird, and congealed on his beard,
His hunger outvoted his sense.
As the Holidays went, he began his descent,
In the bathroom, he made recompense!
Stephen Tomkins
3 January 2016
Sydney
You look into my haunted eyes
Which represent my failed disguise,
And, though you try to see inside,
I can’t let go my childish pride.
You sit and hold me for a while
As, desperately, I feign a smile.
But I’m a man! I don’t need you!
Even though I know that’s so untrue.
And so, each day I will resist
The help I need as I persist
To fabricate my mask anew –
The one I know that you see through.
At last I can’t hold back the tide,
As down my face the torrents slide.
And now I have to make a choice:
Succumb or give my fears a voice.
In seeking help, I gained relief
And learned there’s life beyond my grief.
But though the rain will sometimes fall,
It’s ceased to be a prison wall.
Stephen Tomkins
Perth
29 October 2015
The Webmaster spends all day in his web
And lingers there still when he heads off to bed.
He’s constantly adding or fixing up strands –
Incredible what he can do without hands!
Like moths to a flame, we’re all drawn to his skill
But when we get stuck, he moves in for the kill.
Go near to one link and all will be fine,
Go near to another, and then, by design,
After the Webmaster hacks you to shreds,
He’ll leave you to hang there on old webbish threads.
And though you may think that he’s there to assist,
There’s really no point in attempts to resist.
The Server’s another who plays his own games:
Impassive, unreachable, serves us, he claims.
Protocols, scripts and his own endless jargon,
If allowed to logon we must think it’s a bargain!
All pretence of freedom is just a sick joke:
Make the wrong move and your cash turns to smoke!
The Webmaster, though, is the one we must heed
And live by his opaque and meaningless creed.
With eight bulbous eyes and his striped, hairy legs,
He’ll have you for breakfast and savour the dregs.
You never know when he’ll get more hunger pangs,
So I suggest you stay alert for his fangs!
Stephen Tomkins
7 November 2015
Shanghai
“Down among the dead men,” droned the song.
How could they get it so terribly wrong?
So sexist and so morbid too!
It clearly needs a whole redo!
We all know people will pass away,
And sometimes they get led astray,
But female persons all need inclusion –
“PerSONS! Don’t need that confusion!
People of the female kind?
Yes, that’s better, I think you’ll find.
“Down” – that word will never do!
There’s implication there, quite taboo!
“Down” suggests there must be “up”,
So please don’t drink that poisoned cup!
Paternalistic condescension!
No! Level playing field by convention!
“Dead” is clearly too judgemental.
It seems to me more incremental.
So, how would I rewrite that line?
It took some time to redefine:
“People of the non-female kind
Communing in peace and harmony
In a state inconsistent with being fully alive,
While affirming the choice of each
To abandon hierarchical stereotypes.”
(With apologies to Flash and the Pan)
Stephen Tomkins
Perth
29 October 2015
Pondering Poet Pilot 