I do believe so. Mine is locked deep. Germinating. Coming slowly, slowly to fruition. To arrive when good and ready. Fully formed and full-bodied. Aged. All the more potent for it. Copyright Tom Tide 2017
Every weave and stitch a pigment. All hues, above and within water. Some colours warm- lapping Others chilled and dark. Even hints of the pallete of a Summer sky. Rippling like waves, Conducted by the tide of my hands, as I search for something to quench, no drench my heat. © Tom Tide 2017
Voices carry through the night. Amplified by still-warm walls. Ironic: humans outside and cats in. Every window door vent thrown wide, As the moths have a jamboree. No breeze to ruffle my book leaves tonight, only the tap of winged things, scampering over mottled ink. All dry, everything dry, save my sweat. Tonight, England has … More Solstice
Such are rivers at dusk. Profound serenity. A beauty rippled with sadness, as if Ophelia had just swept around the bend; Robes flowing underwater. Fading as the Sun. Copyright Tom Tide 2017
I sweltered in my car. A metal box, arid and non-living. Then with a click, she emerged. Cradling a watering can wearing a top blue as an April sky. To revive a beloved garden of England. Or perhaps Japan: so lovingly fed and swept in to place by delicate hands. All ferns and fronds. … More Watering can soothe
When I found you, you were ragged. So dusty. Sleeveless in the cold of your neglect. Though metal-rimmed. Built to last. Bumping through the decades, from storage to storage. But what did you mean? You were and are a demo. So: Did you spark a tryst? Give words to some unspoken love? Why didn’t … More What did you mean?
A momentary glow. Warm evening embers. Tender shoots blessed with hazy radience. Others by purple shadows. Air-formed dew already in the air. Grass seed on my damp shoes. and my mind full of nothing but the colours… Yet with this child’s-eye view come a throng of memories unbidden yet welcome. The beading of dew held fast … More Luminescence of a Summer evening.
Floating in pale sunlight: Leaves pivot above my rocking hips; Reminiscent of al fresco wildness. Copyright Tom Tide 2017
Clouds hang low as smog. Cars complain; the hiss of watered tyres: Damp seeps through my jacket. Copyright Tom Tide 2017.
Beyond the frame, there are the answers. Hidden explanations of tantalising scenes. Those ‘what’s down there’ queries. The curiosity of ‘who’s that, and why him’? The seductive, inky details that fill in the blanks on my imagination’s map. Those fleeting blinks of spaces and places that make my pupils dilate. These secret places that … More Beyond the frame of favourite movies