Homelands Far From Home

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

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

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

Time is a State of Mind

Though it may seem Spring’s taken hold,
Late Autumn’s in disguise,
Betrayed by flakes of falling gold,
All borne on gentle sighs.

Indifferent, now, the trees may seem,
Still wrapped in gold and red.
Stoic, untold winters seen,
Their wisdom left unsaid.

And though the darkness soon may reign
As faithless Sun retreats,
Stone-like sentinels remain,
Another year completes.

Seasons fly like autumn leaves,
And as my autumn calls,
Summer memories fill my heart,
As Spring peeps round the walls.

Stephen Tomkins
4 January 2023
Tokyo

I Saw The Sea

Another wave
Dies on the shore
But still they’ll come,
Forevermore.
Distant breezes
Grant them birth,
Far-flung shores
Then test their worth.

They live each moment,
Come what may,
Foaming, leaping,
Drenched in spray.
By tomorrow,
Undeterred,
Yesterday,
A foreign word.

At first glance,
They’re all the same,
No mother there
To grant them name.
Yet each unique
As each can be,
Still in communion
With the sea.

Stephen Tomkins
22 February 2020
Los Angeles

Serenity

Grooving along to the song of the bar fridge,

Humming the tune of the mower.

The truck out the front is inhaling the garbage,

The bloke down the back’s on the blower.

Over the road, she’s still trimming the hedges,

Concrete has conquered the weeds.

While down in the nets, they’re inventing new sledges,

‘Cause cricket’s the colour they bleed.

Serenity’s not quite the word I would use

But I feel right at home just the same.

My wife’s busy getting her fix of the news,

Somewhere, somebody’s calling my name.

I’m waiting for peace to descend from on high,

But, somehow, life just gets in the way.

So, it’s rain that falls out of the hole in the sky

And I just get on with my day.

Stephen Tomkins

26 September 2022

Sydney

The World is Way Too Much

Silhouette trees close ranks to shield

The now-departed sun,

The chill advances by degrees

Then breaks into a run.

Incandescent suns on poles

Shed cold mid-winter light,

Holding back, at least for now,

A brash mid-winter night.

Here in the fortress nation,

Largely, we can feel secure –

Just keep those borders welded shut

Until there is a cure.

Yet in the throes of vaccine woes

We choose to close our eyes,

Pretending COVID’s gone away,

Denial justifies.

While in the mall, behind the wall,

The spending knows no peer,

As long as over there remains

Away from over here.

Stephen Tomkins
24 May 2021
Sydney

Life Diminished

Where commuters once would surge,
Driven by a common urge,
Uneasy silence reigns instead,
Bound by an unspoken dread.

Deep within their fortress homes,
Guarded by their garden gnomes,
The people sit in disbelief,
United in a sudden grief.

All the plans and all the goals,
Shipwrecked on unbidden shoals,
And as the next wave hits the shore,
They’re broken up a little more.

In an outer ring of Hell,
The people, mostly, are all well,
And though he wishes no one ill,
It seems Death’s not yet had his fill.

So, they remain in limbo yet,
A vaccine not an even bet.
Authorities are clueless still
With re-election to fulfil.

Stephen Tomkins
28 October 2020
Sydney

Life in a Minor Key

We speak of life just like the weather,
Act as if we’ll live forever,
Judge by looks and bold pretence,
Consider wealth our best defence.

We hold our life within our hands,
While it slips through like silken sands,
And focussed through a camera’s portal,
Part of us becomes immortal.

Life’s finest crystal, softly wrought,
Only once it’s gone is sought.
Passing through just like a thought,
Life can be sold but can’t be bought.

And as life turns another page,
We tango with advancing age,
And pay again our yearly wage,
Until it’s time to leave the stage.

Stephen Tomkins
21 September 2020
Sydney

Grey

Rain is falling, sky is grey.

Normally, I love the rain

But today the sky is crying

As it tries to ease my pain.

 

Respectfully, the sun remains

Discretely distant, as a friend.

The clouds descend and kiss the ground –

It’s raining in my soul again.

 

Taking refuge in my room,

There’s not much more I have to say.

The world continues unconcerned –

I think I’ll skip it for today.

 

Stephen Tomkins
12 June 2020
Sydney