Reflective Evening

This is Golden time for water-folk. Water calm and glassy; beckoning with undulating ripples. Time to feel the Jasmine air of evening light upon skin Immersed,  in the flesh or the mind’s eye. Time to drift. To imagine breathing underwater, gliding with eyes open. Through a portal bedecked with green finery, To a of perpetual, … More Reflective Evening

Yearning on the beach, when I was Sixteen

Salt-flecked skin, bronzed and quivering. Slenderly fastened swimwear, straining Mid sea jump. Seductive water highlighting Achingly beautiful contours. Breasts rising- falling on the offbeat. So defined in the twilight. Sloe-eyed stares from beneath sun-bleached hair. Glimpsing elegant, arcing, casual sunbather stretches. As nothing to them, but so, so intense to me. In the yearning burn … More Yearning on the beach, when I was Sixteen

Sails of Silver

It is a very valuable experience to watch a person engaging with their passions. It is a privilege to observe, and one that I always value greatly. A person may embrace their chosen field with grace and serenity, or hurl themselves at it with full force.  However it manifests itself, it is always mesmerising. What … More Sails of Silver

The clouds know

I was thinking a lot about what has happened in Italy last night. During and after the earthquake. All of the bravery and sadness, and seeing the best and worst that can happen. The worst tragedy, but the most courageous best when people work together to repair and rescue. I looked up, and saw that … More The clouds know

Tom Tide

Today I had a transformative experience. I have felt like Tom Tide inside my head for some time now. I always write at night, and there is an intoxicating freedom to diving in to words and ideas and emotions. When I write, I feel that I know my voice, and to a certain extent how … More Tom Tide


The whole world washes up here. Everything, from the Romans up. Heaven only knows who came before. Drifting in with the tide, or spinning downriver. Mingling, stirring the melting pot. Beachcomb: hold a palatte within your palm Crafted from earth, spun briefly then returned. To drift, lovingly enrobed by shifting sands.   © Tom Tide … More Mosaic

All Cylinders

The writer part of my brain is a boiler Set to the playful timer of my muse. No spark all day, then on a whim WHUMP! Fires burn cogs turn never stopping heat and words All a furnace, melting pot At fever pitch flowing out to paper Penned. Then all is cooling and ticking; Expansion … More All Cylinders


I trod these boards as a boy. Or crept, I should say. The deep carpets still make my toes skitter. Three steps down to the living room. Still exciting, somehow. So much to look at. Everywhere. A crescent within a crescent: rooms arcing to left and right. Embracing warmly, as warmly as the homemaker’s arms. … More Crescent

Days like this

Some things are  to be. I bought a battered, broken and dirty writing desk today, for a song. Once repaired and oiled, it looks beautiful. As fate would have it, my age old writing box fits the shelf perfectly. I am one very happy aspirant writer x © Tom Tide 2016